A/N: I took a break recently, and now I'm uploading this, which I did mostly in the beginning of my break. Two more chapters unless this becomes more popular.

I stretched and yawned. I was still weary from the stress of the Rimgar, but the night had refreshed me. Although the sleep I had been getting recently couldn't be considered satisfactory, it was far better than my fitful nights in prison.

"Oomph!" I gasped, as a compact, heavy object smashed into my abdomen. The dragon had come out of nowhere, hurtling into my stomach and knocking the breath out of me. A vague apologetic feeling came, along with an image of him sleeping in a tree, and one of later trying to fly.

I picked him up and put him down next to me. Looking around, I realized, with a small amount of surprise, that I had been the first to awaken. Istalir and Elrun were still sitting.

I shrugged, and began to pick up our supplies. I erased what tracks I could, but I was a novice at that sort of thing, and when I finished even I could have seen people had been there.

Remembering the instructions Elrun had given the night before, I began the Rimgar. Palms at my sides, I breathed deeply, calming myself. Slowly, I extended my arms above my head. I brought my hands together, and held that pose for a few seconds. Then, I reached down towards my toes. I still could not reach them, which I found frustrating. It was certainly an improvement over last night, though.

Composing my thoughts again, I leapt backward.

"You need to bend your knees and start to lean back before the actual jump. What you're doing now is more of a small hop straight up," came Elrun's voice.

I nearly fell over in surprise. "You startled me,"

"My apologies." He looked around. "Did you try to cover our tracks?"

"Yes," I said proudly.

"Oh. Not very good, although that is to be expected on your first try. I'll teach you how, after you complete the Rimgar."

Obediently, I began again. It was not as hard as it had been, but I still had much difficulty meeting Elrun's polite demands. Soon, even muscles I never knew I had had all been stretched to their limit, and Elrun still insisted that I try harder. He eventually realized I could do no better, and began to teach me to evade trackers.

"You have to make it look natural," he said. "You made it too orderly. The small branches and other such things cannot be spread evenly. Most of the branches should be near trees—most! Not all. The rocks can be spread a bit more evenly, I suppose. Try not to move things around too much. Only get rid of the remainder of our fire for now. I shall take care of the rest."

I finished my task quickly, and watched carefully as he walked about, removing signs I'd never thought of. Broken branches, from the mock fight. Gouges high in a tree, caused by the dragon. Most of them would be unnoticeable, I knew, but we did not know how good the king's trackers were.

As Elrun worked, Istalir woke up. He looked towards the sun, then turned towards me, startled.

"I should not have rested so long. Now we will not leave the forest as soon as I had planned." He paused, briefly in thought. "In the future, if I am still dreaming when you awake, please rouse me."

"Okay," I replied.

Elrun finished his work, and grabbed a bundle of roots. He greeted Istalir and looked about our camp.

"The ashes of the fire must be spread better," he said. I had completely forgot to scatter them. "And the remnants of our firewood shouldn't be spread about the clearing. Toss it into the woods, in different directions, after removing the blackest areas. I would usually be far more careful, but being in a hurry restricts our time."

He quickly erased all signs of a fire. The dragon leapt into my arms, sensing we were about to leave. We all had the few remaining bites of last night's dinner, and began to jog.

The day's travel was much the same as that of the previous day. We stopped for a brief lunch in a copse of evergreen trees. Once the sun had set, we found a nice flat area to sleep in. Elrun began to make a stew, and Istalir found a few rocks for us to sit upon. My instruction in the use of magic began.

"First, tell me what you know about magic," Istalir said.

"Magic can be used to affect things through the use of the object's true name. It is usually quicker than physically doing something, but things still require the same amount of energy as they would normally."

"Pretty good, I suppose. What happens when you use more energy than you have?"

"I sort of thought you just couldn't."

"No. You die. An important ability for magicians is to know their limits."

I pondered this for a moment.

"Now, we shall test your defenses," Istalir continued, immediately beginning a mental assault. A wall of force slammed into me.

Frantically, I raised my shields. I focused on the first thing I saw: a small twig on the ground.

Twig, I thought, filling my head with the image. Nothing else entered my mind.

Suddenly, the twig twitched.

What the...an insect! No, focus! Twig! I scrambled to block Istalir out. He changed tactics then, coming at me as a spear instead of a wall. I was not sure how that worked—No! Focus!

I employed every trick I knew—which wasn't many—to slow his progress. Finally, I found a random image in my head of my home. My farm. A great wave of sadness washed through me. Would I ever see my family again? Were they ever still alive? What if Galbatorix had captured him? The feeling consumed me, creating and insurmountable defense. In some far off corner of my mind, I noticed that Istalir was smashing against my mind, but the fleeting thought quickly disappeared. Then, he tapped me on the knee, the signal that it was over.

I lowered my barriers, still thinking of my home. How could I have forgotten them, these past months? At least while I was in prison I had an excuse; my mind had been so addled I barely remembered who I was. But after I escaped...

"That was pretty good," Istalir said, breaking me out of my reverie. "Next time, try something more familiar to focus on. Your family was a good idea. You could also do things like a bag, or some part of your sword, or perhaps your fingernail."

I nodded.

"Alright. Now I shall attempt to teach you offensive magic." He considered for a moment, muttering to himself. "Hmm...magic...or attacking mentally..."

Elrun, who had finished cooking, brought some soup over to us. As I drank mine, Istalir began a discussion with him.

"What do you think is more difficult: reaching out with your mind, or using magic? I don't know which I should teach him first."

"Perhaps you could begin with the basics of the Ancient Language, and then teach him to extend his consciousness."

Istalir nodded slowly. "Good idea."

He turned to me. "Do you know of the Ancient Language?"

"No."

"It was the language of the Gray Folk. Inexplicably, they bound it with magic so-Agh. We do not have time for this. The true name of an object is its name in the Ancient Language. I assume you do not know your letters?"

"My father found it of little use. He claimed it was only important to officials who needed to sign documents and such."

"Most farmers would agree. I shall arrange for you to be taught once we reach the Varden. For now, name an object, and I shall tell you its true name."

I looked around.

"Flame," I said, looking at our campfire.

"Istalrí," he responded. "My given name was taken from that word."

I carefully archived this new knowledge. "Dragon."

"Skulblaka, meaning 'scale flapper.'"

"Earth."

"Deloi."

"Lightning."

"Kveykva."

"Sword."

"Sverd."

"Burn."

"Eldrvarya."

"Fly."

"Flauga."

We continued this for half an hour, stopping every five minutes or so for me to review. Then, we went to sleep.

A/N: Sadly, I am unable to conveniently contact my beta-thingy at the moment, so I shall have to improvise a sucky paragraph begging for reviewers.

O glorious reader, I beg of thee, please revieweth this story by pressing the sacred, forlorn button which is located below this speech, and typeth a review, convincing me to continueth my typing of the epic which I am creating solely for thy enjoyment, and, if thou do as I plead, I shall continue this story, which shalt soon die without your aid. So please, I beseech thou, press the button and end its loneliness! If such a thing would happeneth(?), I, your humble author, would even go as far as to attempt an epic speech, such as this one, with every chapter I shall addeth! Listen to the message, O Magnificent One.

Hmm. I would prefer something better than that, but I want to make this chapter available to my wonderful reader(please review so I can add an 's' here!) now, rather than waiting for my beta.