Chapter 6
The next week or so passed quickly. Murtagh's nightmares continued, regularly jolting him from sleep. Falcon remained as mysterious as ever about her past, but she was otherwise very helpful to Murtagh and Thorn.
Falcon pointed out to Murtagh that, rather than having one large door covering the mouth of the cave, wouldn't it be easier to have two smaller double doors instead? She also reinforced his smokehouse so that it didn't fall over whenever a strong wind blew, and built a contraption by an icy stream to keep meat cool. Not that they really needed to- there was plenty of snow around- but perhaps they would when the short summer came.
She showed Murtagh how to find the fatty deposits on a deer's carcass behind its eyes and in the marrow, and Murtagh began to recover almost at once. He was still weak, but he grew stronger by the day.
When Murtagh voiced his regret that there was nothing but meat to be had one evening, Falcon provided him with seeds and a small shovel. However, she refused to help with the planting of a garden; she hated dirt and digging and all things related.
Thorn soon agreed that Murtagh had done the right thing in allowing Falcon to join them. She had helped repair and build structures with an enthusiasm Murtagh lacked, and on the few rare times she was happy she spread life and cheer to them both with her excited joy in everything that surrounded her.
However, Thorn was adamant that Murtagh should not tell Falcon of the dragon egg hidden in Thorn's saddlebags, at least until they knew some more about her and whether or not she was trustworthy.
Murtagh had tried asking Falcon about her past so many times that he had lost count, but he had also lost count of the number of times she had said it was none of his business, and he knew very little more about her than he had after their first conversation in the cave.
Falcon was very intelligent, he could tell that much, and seemed to have an almost unlimited store of knowledge on an enormous number of subjects.
She did not sleep much at all, but would spend the majority of the night sitting outside, swathed in blankets, clutching one of her knives and staring at the fire, and had dark purple bruises under her eyes to rival Murtagh's own because of her lack of sleep.
Falcon was more than a little strange and as mysterious as the stars. Mostly she was simply quiet and serious, though with a very quick temper, but sometimes she was happy and laughing and energetic, while at other times she would fall into a brooding, mournful silence and a lethargy so extreme that she could spend hours at a time sitting in one place, staring at the same object without the slightest sign of boredom.
Falcon was human, Murtagh thought, but she was unlike any of the humans he knew.
Eight days after meeting her, Murtagh was out hunting with Falcon, and was again staring at her bow. It looked like the ones Galbatorix had had, those of elvish make. The limbs had the same graceful curves and the whole thing looked as though it had grown straight out of a tree and had hardly been carved at all. But where would an ordinary human girl get hold of an elven bow?
"Your bow..." the words came out without Murtagh really intending to say them.
"What about it?" Falcon sounded wary.
"I've been thinking about it for a while... it looks elven. Is it?"
"It might be." There was a definite note of pride in the girl's voice this time.
Murtagh was astounded.
"Where on earth did you get hold of an elven bow, Falcon?"
"I suppose it originally came from Du Weldenvarden, didn't it?"
"But where did you get it?"
"I'm not telling you," Falcon said firmly.
"Tell me."
"It'll create more questions than it'll answer, if I know you. From what I've heard, your half-brother's the same. Always asking questions."
Discarding the fact that this girl seemed to know of his precise relation to the renowned Eragon Shadeslayer, Murtagh pressed on.
"I would still like to know how you got an elven bow, Falcon."
Falcon regarded Murtagh for a moment, as though deciding whether to answer him or not. Evidently she decided to tell him the truth, for she said, "Urû'baen. I acquired it in Urû'baen."
Stunned, Murtagh said, "How-?"
Falcon cut him off.
"I'm not telling you that. I won't be persuaded on this one."
Knowing a hopeless cause when he saw one, Murtagh gave up, and he and Falcon returned to hunting.
Later that night, Murtagh awoke from yet another nightmare to notice that Falcon was, for once, sound asleep, no doubt tired out by the day's hunting.
He was going outside for a walk when he heard a distinctly human sob from the back of the cave. Murtagh paused for a moment, unsure if he should intrude if Falcon was crying, even in her sleep.
He crept slightly closer and whispered the girl's name, but received no response.
Murtagh waited a minute or so, and was about to leave when he heard Falcon begin to weep in earnest, her thin shoulders trembling. He hesitated for a moment more, then walked quickly to Falcon's side to make sure she was alright.
As Murtagh got closer, he could make out disjointed words among the sobs. How could... mother... Eldunarí... father... why... dragons...
How, by the lost kings, could she know about Eldunarí? Murtagh thought.
Still, whatever else, it sounded as though Falcon was suffering from nightmares similar to Murtagh's own. Suddenly her reluctance to rest, her brooding silences and the bruises under her eyes all made sense. She was as afraid of sleep as Murtagh was himself, but unlike him, she had no partner of her life to draw comfort from in her sleep.
What terrible events in her past did she dream about? Murtagh could not help but wonder. How much pain had she gone through?
But whatever else, Murtagh could not, in good conscience, allow another person to suffer so much if he could help it, so he reached out and gently shook Falcon's shoulder and whispered her name. She stirred but did not wake, so Murtagh shook her again, slightly harder, and said her name right in her ear.
Falcon jerked awake very suddenly, holding back a yell in a way that was all too familiar to Murtagh. The knife she had been holding hissed through the air less than an inch in front of Murtagh's nose, and for a moment cold, angry fire burned in her eyes.
Falcon looked around wildly for an instant, then seemed to realise where and when she was, and relaxed into her blankets.
"Are you alright?" Murtagh asked, "You were having a nightmare."
Falcon seemed to notice him for the first time. She murmured, "Yes, indeed I was. Was it you who woke me? Thank you."
"You were talking in your sleep. Crying, too."
Falcon looked scared. "What did I say?"
"Something about mother and father, and dragons, and..." Murtagh trailed off, unsure whether he should continue.
"And?" Falcon prompted.
"And... Eldunarí." Murtagh said finally.
"Oh. That," Falcon muttered uncomfortably.
"How do you know about them?"
"It's none-"
"Of my business. I know. But you have to tell me all the same. It's one of Alagaësia's best kept secrets. Only a few elves, Eragon, Nasuada and a few others know of them. Probably five-and-ten at the most. How could you know? Who told you?"
"No one told me. I found out for myself. Eavesdropping on private conversations is as good a way as any to find out what nobody sees fit to tell you."
"Whose conversations, though, Falcon?"
"Why, who else but Galbatorix?"
Again, any theories you have about Falcon or anything else. I really, really want to see if anyone can figure anything out ahead of time. I just love it when that happens. Please, please, please, even if you think it's unlikely.
Thank you for reading!