Whoa, Murtagh's version of the story is, like, four hundred words longer than the previous one! By the way, I own nothing. I'm getting tired of having to write "Disclaimer:" all the time. Anyway, I digress. Enjoy!
Murtagh glanced forward, eyes fixed on the still camp, with only a few moving figures. He smiled with satisfaction. The Varden would be totally unprepared for his attack.
Thorn! Are you ready? he called out to his dragon, hidden quite far away. Thorn gave him a mental growl of anticipation. I am ready, partner-of-my-heart-and-mind. Let us venture forth!
Murtagh shifted as he heard Thorn's distant roar. The few figures still present in the camp froze, expressions of incredulity and fear on their faces, then the camp exploded into a mass of activity.
Murtagh saw Eragon and Arya hurry out of a tent, presumably Eragon's. He noticed that they were tottering slightly, and wondered if they had been drinking. He shook off the thought as Saphira soared off towards the sky to battle Thorn, and he charged into the battle, where the soldiers he had brought were already engaging the Varden in a fierce fight.
He slew the many men who were fool enough to try to block his way, heading for the largest and most obvious tent - Nasuada's. The Nighthawks were gathered around the pavilion, fending off attacks from the soldiers. They noticed him, and a dwarf with a braided red beard shouted a word, lost in the clamour of battle. The decrease in Murtagh's strength as his wards deflected the spell caused him to flinch. Smiling tightly, he swerved towards the culprit, whose strength was being drained by the spell he had just cast, and slew him with a quick flick of the wrist. An Urgal charged him, thrusting a spear at his abdomen, and Murtagh twisted, avoiding the blow. He then cut at the Urgal with Zar'roc twice, stabbing him in the gut, and the warrior fell to rise no more. Murtagh quickly dispatched the rest of the guards, then ripped aside the flap of the tent.
Nasuada stood at the back of the pavilion, her ebony skin tinted red by the light discoloured by the tent's skin, her brown eyes fearful. She was clothed in a short chemise. Murtagh felt his heart leap as he gazed at her. The tight nature of her shift caused his stomach to squirm with a mix of embarrassment and strange pleasure. She took a step back, and the light reflected off a small jewelled dagger she held in her grip. Oh ho, thought Murtagh. She intends to fight me? Ha! He smiled, then flicked his wrist dismissively, saying the Ancient Language word for up, and the dagger hurtled out of her hand. It landed on the rug that lay between them with an ominous thud.
Nasuada pulled herself up, regaining her usual poise, and smiled coolly. "So. You're here to kill me, I suppose?"
Sarcastically, he said,"Close enough. I'm here to capture you. How wise you are, Lady Nightstalker."
"Wise I may be, but apparently not wise enough to see you as the monster you were. I should never have convinced my father to let you fight in the Battle of Farthen Dur." Her voice was as soft and persuasive as ever, and carried a mixture of pity, sadness and disgust.
He lifted one eyebrow in surprise."So that was why Ajihad allowed me to battle. Well, My Lady, I did not choose to be Morzan's son." Sorrow and rage welled up in those beautiful brown eyes of hers. She took a step forward and cupped his cheek with long, slim fingers. He flinched at the pleasurable feeling of her cool flesh against his own, but she did not notice his movement.
"I wasn't talking about that. The deeds of the parents are not the deeds of the children,"she whispered tenderly.
Murtagh sighed, feeling exhaustion overcome him."I'm sorry, Nasuada. My oaths bind me to Galbatorix. He knows my true name, and I cannot disobey him. I'm sorry."
He grasped hold of her and dragged her out of the tent. She screamed shrilly, involuntarily, as he pulled her out. Nasuada kicked at his leg, but her own rebounded off a ward he had cast. He struck her with the pommel of Zar'roc, then, as he saw Eragon rushing towards them, he slung his burden over one shoulder and climbed onto Thorn, who had descended from the skies. The crimson dragon took off. Saphira soared round the corner and attacked Thorn. Then, Murtagh saw a dark object flying towards him. It was the elf Arya!
Thorn swerved, trying to avoid her, but she thrust a spear with a glowing nimbus of light into his side. Murtagh grimaced as he felt his dragon's pain.
Thorn roared, and spun around, whacking the elf with his tail. She went whizzing away, pain etched on her beautiful features. His dragon quickly flapped away, leaving the destruction behind. Murtagh breathed deeply and nearly choked as the freezing air stabbed at his lungs.
Thorn was silent for a while, flying over the great plains, then he swung his head around and looked at the limp form of Nasuada.Is this the woman of whom you spend most of your free time mooning over? he asked slyly.
Murtagh's cheeks reddened. Thorn!
Thorn laughed, a deep, booming sound. She is beautiful, he said, smiling and showing his long, sharp teeth.
That she is... replied Murtagh softly. He stroked her hair, feeling protective, yet guilty for the ordeal he was about to put her through.
Oh, Nasuada. I loved you since the day you visited me in my cell. I wish you felt the same.
Amusement vibrated through his and Thorn's bond, and Murtagh blushed again as he realised that the dragon had been listening.Thorn... I convinced Galbatorix not to kill her, but she'll endure far more pain in Urû'baen. Was that all selfishness on my part?
Thorn smothered him in warm waves of comfort. I'll support you no matter what, little one. You'll always have me by your side.
So. This is finally done! Please review! By the way, can dragons smile? Hmm...
I didn't check the book while I was writing the story, so I might've
gotten the facts of the battle wrong. Like I care. I wanted to get it
over and done with so I could get to the "Thorn was silent for a
while... have me by your side"sentimental i.e. mushy part. Hey... I
like Thorn! He SO should've been Saphira's mate instead of Fírnen! ! !