Alagaesia High
Chapter 5
Here are some responses to my faithful reviewers. Ya'll are awesome!
Lost Grey Wolf: Many thanks for reviewing. It means a lot to me. And yes, I do think it is good. Hoorah!
Ghost who Walks: I'm slowing down. And check out the Faolin POV! You will appreciate it. And NxM may not have a place in this story. I think Eragon may end up competing with Murty for Arya. Once Faolin's dead or something. (Kidding.) And that was how I picture Firnen, so probably.
49: Angela is the best character, straight up. And yes, she should teach chemistry. Because she will teach them useful things. (Like how to make a nine-volt bomb. Funny how often that comes in handy…)
I know I'm a troll about these "author's notes" at the beginning, I just really like them. Anyways, this chappie will be the best chapter in the story, most likely, and the one most different from others. In other words, Murtagh and Eragon have their Confrontation on the Burning Plains, Outsiders style! That's right, we're talking a street fight. And some insight into Faolin's character (no, he's not a jerk), mixed with some Eragon and Arya time. Do remember the whole point of this story. Which is a romantic little fic for Arya and Eragon. However, the ExA time will be much better, and related to NMRRPG (which makes everything better.) So hold on to your virtual hats (Hopefully fedoras), and read!
Eragon stumbled into the courtyard, swept along by the inexorable flow of students from the school. He glanced around for his older brother Roran, also known as his ride home. Just as he began to resign himself to the dismal fate of walking to the ranch, a loud honk alerted him to the presence of Roran's truck. To Eragon's surprise (Heaven knows why), Katrina was in the passenger's seat of the worn down white pickup.
A blue blur flashed past him, delivering a brisk slap to the back of his head as it sped towards Roran's truck. Ah, Saphira, Eragon thought wryly, Queen of the Gibbs Slap. He hitched his backpack up and made after her.
Roran shot Eragon a mischievous grin, and flew out of the parking lot. "No, wait!" Eragon cried vainly after the retreating form of the beat-up vehicle. He sighed and prepared for the two mile trek back to the ranch.
The trip was uneventful (if tiring) for a some odd hour and forty-five minutes, but that sort of thing seems to be rather fragile. And indeed the peaceful state of this trip was shattered, as they are wont to be. Eragon passed by an alley, when a certain black-clad figure stepped out of it.
Eragon turned his head just as the figure crashed into him, flinging him against the wall. Eragon, who was no pushover, quickly regained his feet, blinking away the stars that sprang to his eyes. He ducked under a savage swing. CRAP! He thought, backing away from the figure. There was something familiar about him, but Eragon had no time to ponder. The mystery man, who appeared to be a high-schooler, swung at him again.
Eragon continued to backpedal, furiously trying to recall his practice sessions with the Varden over fist weapons. He backed into a wall, encouraging his adversary to charge. Eragon dove to the side, narrowly avoiding a vicious kick. Fortunately, the man let up and swore, holding his foot that had slammed into the wall.
Must be one of that gang, the Forsworn, Eragon thought, his mind furiously tried to work out the identity of the man.
He seized the opportunity that the man's toe injury presented and enveloped his foe in a crushing bear hug, swinging him about. They crashed into walls, bruising Eragon's ribs and shoulder.
Suddenly, a tall red-haired man began pounding towards them, only to be intercepted by Saphira, who savagely kicked his knee, flying out of an adjoining alley. He was tall, but she was towering. They began their own mini-brawl, with Saphira clearly being the superior. The black-clad combatant's fist connected with Eragon's gut, sending him reeling backwards. The man followed, kicked him, hard, in the fork of the legs, brining Eragon down.
However, it is commonly considered deeply unwise to injure Eragon if Saphira is not well contained. This proved true, as Saphira rammed the ginger into a wall and pounded out the distance between her and the man. He was too focused kicking Eragon in the ribs to notice her bearing down on him and was flung into the alley like a broken marionette. As he crashed into the ground, his hood flew off his face, revealing his identity: Murtagh.
Murtagh had been Eragon's friend, but had left him in favor of the Forsworn. Eragon had been unaware of his joining of the Forsworn, but was acutely aware of his acceptance into the Empire. He had known that Murtagh had abandoned him, but this was a cold hard reality.
"Thorn! Get her!" Murtagh barked, then gesturing towards Saphira. The man headed off doggedly, but Saphira shook him off. Murtagh rose, very slowly, and dusted his legs off.
"Surrender…" Eragon pleaded from his point on the ground.
Saphira growled aggressively, sending the two into defensive stances, but then grudgingly spat "Fine. I submit." Murtagh began to laugh when Saphira screamed "SCREW OFF!" and hurled a rock, which crashed into his forehead. Murtagh and Thorn then beat a retreat, fully aware that they had won.
WOOOOHOOOO! There's a street fight if I ever saw one. Which I haven't. Just to clarify, that represented the Battle of the Burning Plains. MMMMHHMMMM. I'm sorry, no battle scene for Hrothgar, he dies of a heart attack. :( And the twins, unbeknownst to Eragon, were OWNED by Roran Stronghammer! And now, we go to looking into Fay's (Faolin's) POV!
Faolin absently spun around in his revolving chair, pondering something of, to him, paramount importance. He had known Arya since, what, first grade? Yeah, that seemed right. They had drunk cider and eaten cookies together for years. It wasn't very easy to figure out where to go from there.
He could still remember dueling with sticks, despite the bitter cold that bit to their bones. Then they would go in for hot chocolate, courtesy of Mrs. Drottningu. After that they would play chess. He chuckled to himself. Arya always went easy on him. He had been friends with her for over a decade, now.
But this new feeling he had towards her, he wasn't used too. He had dated girls, yeah, and liked them, but his was different. "God, I sound like frickin' Stephanie Meyers." He muttered under his breath. "Wouldn't Arya be proud." He snorted.
Arya had burned more than one copy of the Twilight series. Then buried the ashes. Faolin might be able to find them, given time. And a shovel. Though he most definitely wouldn't be able to tell the difference between Breaking Noon and Twilight. Or whatever they're called.
His cell phone began ringing loudly, playing the opening notes to "I am The Doctor", startling him out of his reverie. He snapped open the LG, and asked "Hello?" To his surprise, (and joy), it was Arya that answered on the other end.
"HEY! GUESS WHAT?" She hollered, clearly very excited.
"What?" He asked, mimicking her excited tone.
"I have a new phone! I will dance!" She declared, and some rustling came through to Faolin. He erupted into gales of merriment, falling out of his chair.
"You are the craziest girl I have ever met!" he guffawed, still rolling about.
"Aw hecks yes!" she replied, then bellowed "I will dance some more!" Faolin continued to laugh, but somewhere in his subconscious he wondered why she was so quiet around others when she acted like this on occasion.
If you don't like crazy Arya, leave me the heck alone, because she ain't changing. EVAH. Sorry to all you who liked Twilight, it just doesn't seem Arya's cup of tea. To be mild. And yes, that was a Doctor Who reference you spotted back there, you clever clever readers! That so needs to be my ringtone. FOR RIZZLEZ. Is it good? I think so. Faolin is a nice guy. Not what you thought, eh?
Arya was acting goofy, as she usually did around people she knew, and talking to Faolin, when her phone honked.
"The heck?" Faolin's disembodied voice floated out of the home.
"Oh!" Arya slapped her forehead, and then continued "That's one of the alarms I set to remind me when some stuff will be going down!" A loud slap resonated through the phone as Faolin remembered that he had NMRRPG practice in a few minutes.
"NMRRPG practice, right?" he confirmed, with a satisfactory reply of "Yep."
She grinned, and declared "For the elves!" eliciting the expected response of "And for the Queen!" from Faolin. She snapped the phone shut and reached for her shin straps.
She chuckled. She was like an 18th century woman, wearing seven layers under her outer layer. She strapped on her PVC shoulder pads.
A thought struck her. Her sword clattered to the ground. Both Eragon and Faolin would be there for this spar. On opposite teams. Oh boy.
Once Eragon arrived home, Garrow wordlessly bandaged him and iced his bruises. Only once Eragon was mended to his liking did he inquire as to the origins of the injuries.
"I got in a fight." Eragon replied curtly.
Garrow shot him a glare and snapped "Don't. You're going to explain why the hell you're so bashed up, and you're not leaving this room until I say you've explained." Eragon opened his mouth to protest, but settled for a sigh.
"I was walking home, and a dude in black ambushed me. We fought for a while, and then that new kid Thorn came and started beating on me, but Saphy stepped in and thrashed him, and then the hood on the weird dude fell off, and it was Murtagh." He babbled, letting it all flow out. Garrow sucked in a breath, recalling all that bad business with Murtagh. Murtagh had begun to bully Eragon, and then Garrow had met Murtagh in an alley and "suggested" he stop.
"Let's forget this happened-" Garrow began to suggest, but Eragon cried "What?" Garrow shot him a glare of poison and continued "until we can ambush him ourselves." Eragon grinned conspiratorially. His foster father could be rather vindictive.
"What time is it?" Garrow asked, twisting around for a glimpse at the clock. "Ah crap, I got to go!" Eragon yelped and dashed to his room to gather his NMRRPG materials.
A few minutes later, Eragon emerged; armored in a helmet, shin pads, shoulder pads, gauntlets, a shield crafted from a large board of plywood, screws, and an old thrift store belt. And, of course, his hand-made longsword Brisingr.
He dashed out of the house and hopped onto his dented bike, which had been redecorated to resemble a dragon. Eragon had a habit of showing up to duels like these with advantages no one ever thought of. He would be the first mounted NMRRPG warrior! EVER!
Arya glanced around the practice field, viewing with apprehension the size of the Varden. She silently sent a prayer of thanks that they would be on the same team when the tournaments came. What she really looked for, however, was either Faolin or Eragon.
A massive shaped loomed in the corner of her eye, and she whirled around to see Eragon mounted on a bike, decorated like a dragon! Saphira was close behind on a plain bike, which she hopped of off the moment she was on the field. Eragon seemed to show no such inclination.
The field went silent as Nasuada and Izlanzadi met, no doubt determining the legality of his improvisation. Eragon was shooting his friends triumphant looks, as if he'd already won.
She growled. In your dreams, Bike Boy, she silently, but fiercely, snarled.
Faolin jogged to her side and muttered "That will be a pain in the-"
"grass" Arya finished, reenacting one of their many inside jokes. They shot each other grins, and Arya whispered "He can't duel anyone like that, it's too unwieldy. No doubt he's going to dash past us, swinging as he goes." she turned to Faolin and inquired shrewdly "Do you think that'll work?"
"We may lose a few soldiers, but I think an archer can pick him off before he causes too much damage. To be safe, though," he turned to the thick woods behind them, "we may want to set up in there."
Arya quickly attempted to change the subject, asking "Did you notice his shield? I thought the rules were only the AC could use them."
Faolin grimaced and growled "I think he is the AC this round." She turned to him and nodded. She had guessed as much.
Nasuada strode into the center of her warriors and declared "We have elected to train in one on one duels before the larger conflict. I will inform you that the Acting Captains of this round are Arya Drottning, and Eragon Shadeslayer!" Eragon grinned as she referred to his title gained when he defeated the legendary Durza Shade in a duel. Arya stumbled backwards as if struck physically.
Faolin wordlessly caught her, then muttered "You okay?" She shook her head and firmly replied "Yes."
Then she turned to her warriors and announced "Pick a warrior you have rarely or never defeated!" She allowed a small grin to split her face. Only three warriors moved. Her warriors were far more skilled than the rank-and-file of the Varden.
She turned back to Faolin to see him making his way to Eragon. Saphira squared herself as Glenwing, a good friend of Faolin's approached her. Eragon slowly dismounted and drew his custom-made blade. And finally, the last warrior that was mightier than an elf drew his weapon.
Roran Stronghammer, the one that wielded a small PVC hammer, and yet had defeated most of the elves at least once. He snarled at Izlanzadi, expecting to lose, but never going to accept it.
The first clang of weapons rang out over the battlefield. Arya stared avidly at Eragon dueling Faolin.
The first time had ever noticed the former, when he was late for the bus, she had observed that he moved with the easy strength and grace of a lion. Or a warrior. From that moment on she had suspected that he was a skilled NMRRPG soldier.
Here, her suspicions were proven beyond a doubt. He twirled around Faolin, locked in a dance, blades whirling, shields clashing. Their expressions were fierce, their only attention on each other. To them, the world was nothing but each other, action, reaction, offense, defense.
It soon became clear that Faolin would win out. Their blades clashed three more times, and then Eragon cast his aside and seized Faolin by the shoulders and began spinning. A blur of motion and Faolin fell, Eragon triumphantly holding up his dagger!
You know you love it! Was it sufficient? I thought it was good, and it's the longest chappie I've ever written. By far. Some good all around fun. And now, a verse from "Goodbye Black Ops". "I still remember the first game I ever did play. M16 class, Domination, Array. Couldn't get home fast enough from GameStop. Dolphin divin' when I meant to drop shot! HEY!" Mhmm. Well, there will be more ExA time later, but I realized something. I am finding it hard to keep these two together. I think Murtagh is destined to be the loser, along with Eragon, and Faolin gets her, but I will fight destiny to the bitter end.