Right... sorry it's so short but I have a couple other projects that are demanding my attention. :D
***
Eliana was not pleased with this turn of events, and as the army marched past her fallen figure she decided she was sure of one thing—she would prove her worth, on her own if necessary, and show the Queen that she too could fight as well as any other elf.
She stood with a calm, quiet dignity and waited for the rest of the army to pass by. Some things you just had to do for yourself.
***
Even if Eragon had only been on this path once, he felt as though he had been walking down it ever since he was a little child. He knew he was going the right way, his sixth sense told him that, and he was pondering the conflict of a certain "Eliana" and the Queen. He had been about to request that the Queen allow her on the mission, but then the Queen had snatched up the lass, and Eragon had dared not interfere after that. He sensed there was a deeper argument there, but he could tell the Queen was in no mood for his petty questions. There was no way that he could see a question from himself getting past the angry state of the Queen, so he kept all of his countless questions to his own mind, and began to drown himself in them.
It had been three hours since Eliana had first appeared that Eragon first noticed it. T'was lurking shadow just outside his range of vision, almost mimicking his movement.
He turned his head slightly to get a better view, but the shadow was not to be seen in detail, and stayed on the fringes of his vision. Without a sort of identification Eragon could not tell whether it meant him good or ill. He knew that perhaps he ought to take some more precautions, but decided against it upon considering the fact that perhaps this shadow was the maiden by the river.
And in fact that was the greatest mystery of all, the maiden—who was she? How did she know?
Perhaps she was a hoax?
Whenever the lady came up in his mind, what she had said clouded Eragon's mind. And whenever what she said came up, the lady clouded his mind.
And that led to another piddling thought that had been slightly bothering Eragon as he rode.
Eragon always had been, and probably always would be an avid reader. And every good reader knew that a good story has a conflict. And those conflicts were usually always simple good versus evil.
But it seemed that in the real life it was never like that. It was always more complicated than just that, good and evil. The war, for example… elves were good, but it did not seem conceivable to Eragon that the dragons weren't capable of goodness too. So it was not simply good versus evil.
For him these thoughts became obsolete as the shadow moved further into his range of vision. His eyes flicked over to where it was moving and verified his hypothesis that it was some sort of elvish figure. It was clad in a black armor with a rounded helm that bore no markings.
The fact that three weren't any markings both comforted and bothered Eragon. He decided to cease his botherings and get on with it in the end, and they continued on their journey.
The next morning the forest had thinned and they were nearing the foothills. Eragon halted the company and took short council on how best to navigate through the hills. It was concluded that they would wait till nightfall before attempting to cross the plains. It was also decided that magicians would accompany Eragon to the passageway to the top, and would light a torch that would be visible only to elves so that they might come in spurts across the fields.
What was more amazing than the structure itself though were the thousands of dragons in its surroundings. Huge dragons of all shapes, sizes, colors ages, if you could imagine a dragon you could probably find one similar to the one in you imagination. From this distance, if you didn't look closely, the rock looked like it was painted with a multicolored pen or many paintbrushes, always rustling and moving about.
It was so amazing and breathtaking that Eragon contemplated forgetting the whole venture, but then images of loved ones presented themselves in front of his eyes, and he knew he would have justice done to them.
Night came, and Eragon and a pair of magicians ran quickly to the area Eragon had previously marked out. He handed each of them long sticks, and with a quick spell the branches were brightly illuminated. Eragon stationed the elves on either side of the doorway, and he himself marched resolutely through.
Five minutes later a regiment came pouring through. Eragon whispered directions to them, and they silently marched up the pathway. Eragon ushered soldiers on for about an hour before the Queen and Vladime came, and then, with an enchanted whistle that, again, only elves could hear, the army charged forth into the night to take back the lives stolen from them.
"They will never forget tonight. They may not survive tonight." Eragon's chest contracted with a sense of guilt that the dragons might be wiped out, but he pushed it aside and stood straighter than before.
He would not fail the lost.
The whole time in the tunnel Eragon had been wondering what the mysterious figure would be up to. He had kept a close eye out for the signature helmet in the fray, but he had seen nothing but the pointed masks that the warrior elves wore.
"Perhaps he found a more effective way of getting up," Eragon mused as he followed Vladime up the incline. He loosened his sword in his sheath and put on a pair of gloves. He then grabbed his own mask from his bag and put it on over his face.
He was going to war.