The Path Least Chosen

by Wolfyman123

Two hundred years ago, Vrael commanded Eragon Shadeslayer and Saphira Brightscales to leave Alagaësia on a mysterious mission. Now they have returned, only to find that the world they left behind is not the same one they remember. The Order is gone, decimated by a Rider called Galbatorix, and Eragon must fight for his home and face a past he once though he left behind.

57. Chapter 57 - The Calm

Chapter 57 - The Calm

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When Eragon finally woke from his dreams, the first thing he recognized was Arya's familiar presence next to his. Their limbs were a tangled mess, telling of their mutual exhaustion from the prior day's events; generally, the two of them rarely moved during the night, except when an odd limb or two went numb from trying to squeeze two adults onto a cot that had only been made for one.

The next observation that his still-waking mind noticed was that the sun was peeking over the tree lines in their humble clearing. Generally, Arya was the first to rise when the sun crested the horizon, waking Eragon with whispered words and soft hands. That she was still deep in her waking dreams was another blatant sign of their draining experiences these past few days.

Finally, when his eyes adjusted to the rising sun's bright light and moved about the clearing, Eragon spotted his half-brother standing beside Saphira and Fírnen. Murtagh's large grin as he peered at Eragon and Arya contrasted sharply with his prior mood yesterday, the mirthful gaze making Eragon suddenly miss Glenwing's familiar presence.

Shaking his head at Murtagh's silent laughter, Eragon slowly extracted himself from Arya's firm grip on his body, gently taking her hand and untwining it from his tunic. She did not stir from his movements, surprising considering Arya's general alertness to her surroundings.

Letting her rest, Eragon moved over to his half-brother, trying to ignore the smirking Red Rider. Saphira, who had been watching Eragon the whole time, blinked a sapphire eye at him in greeting, their minds touching.

Good morning little one, Saphira hummed.

Eragon, still ignoring Murtagh, returned her greeting by running his hands over the soft scales on her snout. He pressed his forehead to her and breathed in her familiar smell, basking in the warmth Saphira extruded. Morning. How are you feeling?

Rejuvenated and ready to rejoin the Varden, she replied. Before he could respond, Saphira lifted her snout slightly, nudging Eragon over towards Murtagh with a gentle push that belayed her size. Go, and speak to Murtagh. We must figure out how we are to proceed.

"Alright, alright," Eragon said, keeping his words low to avoid waking Arya. He held up his hands and moved over to his half-brother, finally nodding at Murtagh in greeting.

He moved to stand beside Murtagh, following his half-brother's gaze to Arya's sleeping form.

Enjoy your rest?" Murtagh remarked, turning to face Eragon with his grin still firmly in place.

Eragon sighed and ran his hand over his face. "I get enough teasing already, please don't try to follow in Glenwings footsteps."

Murtagh raised a brow, a questioning look coming over his face before realization stepped in. "Ah, you mean the elf that I've seen you with before. He's certainly… different than the other elves."

"That's one way of putting it," Eragon muttered lowly, shaking his head and pushing away the sudden longing he had to see his friend. He swept his gaze away from Murtagh and the tempting form of Arya, settling on the large red-scaled form of Thorn resting not too far away. Gesturing at Thorn, Eragon asked carefully, "How is he?"

Murtagh's face twisted, the multitude of emotions flashing nearly faster than Eragon could recognize. "Better," Murtagh finally stated, "he was awake for a whole hour last night."

Eragon nodded, watching the soft rising and falling of the red dragon's chest. That Thorn was whole again was a plain victory to Eragon, but he was not sure that Thorn would be able to participate in the battle awaiting them.

Something prodded at the back of his mind, and Eragon glanced around, aware that he was missing something crucial. Blinking, Eragon realized that Thorn's Eldunarí was nowhere to be found. "Murtagh," Eragon questioned lowly, "Where is Thorn's Eldunarí?"

"Ah," Murtagh stilled, before reaching up and running a hand through his long hair. "I'm not sure?"

"You're not-"

Thorn's Eldunarí was returned to its rightful place, Umaroth stated, surprising Eragon and making him jump slightly. For a brief moment, he had forgotten that the Eldunarí was behind him in the dimensional fold in space.

"How is that possible?" Eragon gaped.

Thorn's plight moved a great number of us during the battle, Umaroth explained. And it was, according to the minds of some of the older dragons, also a necessary step in reuniting Thorn's mind with his body. That we could call upon our racial ability in our time of need was advantageous.

"Amazing," he shook his head, astounded. Sometimes what dragons were able to accomplish simply amazed him; they could, at a whim, shape the world to exactly how they wanted, regardless of the constraints of the physical world.

"Murtagh," Eragon began, but his words trailed off as soft footsteps padded over to the pair. Turning, Eragon smiled at Oromis, greeting the Rider, and was surprised when Murtagh offered the elf a nod as well.

"Forgive my interruption," Oromis stated, his gaze moving to the slumbering Thorn. "But we should be discussing our next steps; Eragon and Arya have been away from the Varden for far too long, and the elves close in on Urû'baen as we speak."

"Aye," Eragon agreed. He paused, turning his gaze back to Arya's sleeping figure. "Excuse me for a moment, but I would be remiss if I did not awaken Arya for this conversation." The others gave him a nod in understanding, even if Murtagh's accompanying smirk made Eragon shake his head as he walked away.

When he reached Arya, Eragon took a moment to admire the sight of her peacefully resting; Arya was on her side, one of her arms outstretched to his side of their combined bed roll as though searching for his presence. Her hair, normally kept bound by a leather strap, was down and cascaded around her features. The mass of raven hair covered her pointed ear and angular cheekbones, and Eragon knelt by her side to gently brush away the strands from her face.

Arya startled beneath his soft touch, emerald eyes flying open and her body tensing as though prepared for a fight. She relaxed when her gaze met his after a brief moment, her features softening as a beautiful, if small, smile bloomed across her lips.

It was in that moment, their gazes locked, that Eragon felt his love for her surfacing.

She was, at that moment, the most precious thing to him in the whole world –save of course Saphira– and the intensity of his emotions nearly overwhelmed him. The warmth in his chest blossomed and spread throughout his veins, as it always did whenever he was within her vicinity.

Arya's beauty was near absolute to Eragon, but he knew his feelings for her extended beyond the material world; her looks may have stunned Eragon when he first beheld her beneath the tunnels of Farthen Dûr, but the months spent traveling together only cemented in Eragon that it was her mind and soul that kept him enraptured. She was duty-bound to a fault and was nearly as headstrong as he was –even if she would never admit it. She was also exceedingly kind, especially to those she believed deserved it most of all. Yet, she was often outspoken in a way that few elves were, preferring firm words and action to the rest of her kin. All of it endeared Eragon to her, and he knew that she had burrowed deeply into the core of who he was now – her place in his True Name was evidence enough of his love for her.

As he gazed down at her, silent in his ruminations, Eragon felt something else stirring inside of him.

He wanted her.

Arya must have sensed his desire, for her emerald eyes darkened as the smile slipped from her face. Tension began to build between them, locked in what felt like an eternal–

Enough!

Startled, the two of them jumped in unison, the tension evaporating immediately. Blinking away the remnants of lust, Eragon tore his gaze away from Arya's and glanced over at his partner-of-mind, who had so rudely interrupted them.

Unless you wish to mate here, out in the open for all to see, I suggest you control yourselves, Saphira chided the two of them, though her words were tinted with amusement. Saphira remained in her previous position, with her head resting atop her large paws, not giving away the fact that she had just admonished them. Luckily, Murtagh and Oromis had moved away from her, the two Riders speaking softly together near Glaedr.

Unfortunately, however, Fírnen had caught on, and the green dragon let out a soft rumble in amusement. It has been a few days since their last coupling, Fírnen remarked, perhaps the two-legged mating ritual is more drawn out than we thought and requires multiple attempts.

Saphira made to respond to Fírnen, but Eragon closed his mind off from the musings of the two dragons. Clearing his throat and pushing down the overwhelming desire, Eragon stood and offered his hand out to Arya. "Come, the others are waiting."

Arya grasped his hand and Eragon pulled her to her feet, her slight weight barely noticeable with his enhanced strength. She gave him a slight smile as she stood, releasing his hand and moving about their campsite as she readied herself. It took no time before Arya was ready, and the two Riders joined Oromis and Murtagh next to their respective dragons.

Oromis greeted Arya with a kind smile, while Murtagh merely grunted and inclined his head in her direction. The muscles on Arya's face twitched at the Red Rider's greeting, so minuscule that Eragon doubted Murtagh even noticed. She merely nodded in return, her hand moving briefly to the side of her hip where her sword usually was found. After a moment of contemplation Arya relaxed, though her emerald eyes never strayed far from the Red Rider.

Eragon was not sure he could blame her; after all, Arya had spent nearly the entire century of her life wary of Murtagh, her time spent working with the Varden forcing her to keep a weathered eye on the horizon for Thorn's imposing figure. Though the elves knew that Murtagh and Thorn were only Name slaves, even they could not stop the instinctual rush of fear whenever Thorn was spotted flying overhead.

Shaking himself from his thoughts, Eragon caught Saphira's eye and shared a silent conversation with her.

Nodding, Eragon turned back to the others. "Saphira and the others are rested enough for us to return, though I am afraid the same cannot be said for Thorn."

The concerned look on Murtagh's face nearly made him unrecognizable to Eragon. "The recent months have taken a toll on Thorn." His half-brother turned his gaze towards the red dragon, shifting around on his feet as though eager to return to his partner's side. "I had hoped that he would have been well enough to face Galbatorix, but-" Murtagh sighed, shaking his head. "I do not think he will be recovered in time."

"Thorn has undergone something no other being has," Oromis kindly stated, placing a hand on Murtagh's shoulder. Murtagh stiffened briefly but did not dissuade the older Rider. "Though his mind was held in a deep slumber, the trauma of the situation cannot be understated."

If Thorn cannot recover before the battle, then he would only be a liability in the fight. He would better serve our cause if he remained behind, both for his safety and ours, Umaroth said, his mind brushing against the others as he made his opinion known. Murtagh's fist tightened at the Eldunarí's words, but he offered no protest to them.

I agree, Glaedr rumbled, lifting his giant golden head and peering over at the slumbering Thorn. He would need an entire lunar cycle before he would be recovered enough to offer us any support.

"The Varden and dwarves would not be welcoming of Thorn's presence," Arya added. "Though the elves will hold no malice towards him, the same cannot be said of the other races."

"Aye," Eragon nodded, letting out a sigh and running his hand over his face. As glad as he was that Murtagh and Thorn were free of Galbatorix's control, it made the situation unbearably complicated. Especially before the battle, where things would already be tense enough once he returned to the other leaders. "Then we agree that Thorn should remain here."

The others agreed, even the reluctant Murtagh.

"Thorn would have wanted to question the bastard King himself," Murtagh murmured, "but he is too weak at the moment to even stay awake for more than a few minutes."

Galbatorix will be made to answer for all his crimes, Saphira growled, the furious rumbling shaking the ground and causing the nearby Thorn to shift lightly. The Oath-breaker has taken far too much from our race, and he will feel our wrath.

Placing a hand against her scales, Eragon sent soothing sensations through their bond. "He will, Saphira. He will face justice for his actions. But we are getting off track; Thorn will remain behind, but what of Murtagh?" Turning to face his half-brother, Eragon asked, "What do you wish, brother?"

Murtagh raised an eyebrow at him, his face falling flat. "Am I not still your prisoner? Will you not command me to fight, O' Leader?"

Eragon's brow twitched, the familiar frustration at his half-brother rising. "I am not your master, Murtagh. Though you will remain my prisoner until we convene the tribunal, I will not force you to fight a battle you do not wish to participate in. Especially with Thorn in his weakened state."

"Why not hold the tribunal here and now?" Murtagh stated, spreading his hands and gesturing at the dragons around them, as well as the Eldunarí floating in their dimension behind Eragon. "You have the necessary amount of Elders, especially with this lot returning from the grave."

Tribunals are held to determine one's fate, and so that they may face justice for their actions, Umaroth remarked, ignoring the slight in Murtagh's words. To hold one before a major battle such as the one looming before us would be… unwise. Our emotions run hot with the thought of sinking our teeth into Galbatorix's throat, and we would be pressed to issue you a ruling that would force you into a battle you may not wish to fight, simply to improve our chances at victory. Eragon, as our Leader, we will defer to your judgment in this, but I urge you to consider my words carefully.

Eragon glanced at Saphira, her agreement with Umaroth's words plain to feel in her mind. A glance at Arya beside him told Eragon that she likewise thought the same.

Fírnen, it seemed, cared little for politics, for the green dragon had fallen asleep beside Saphira.

Holding back a chuckle at Fírnen's light snoring, Eragon turned towards his half-brother and asked him once more, "What do you wish to do, Murtagh?"

Murtagh's face twitched, a variety of emotions filtering across. A glance at the weakened state of Thorn seemed to solidify his resolve, for Murtagh steeled himself and rose to his full height. "I care little for the Varden's affairs, but I want to see Galbatorix dead at my feet. He needs to pay for the century of suffering we endured."

Gesturing in Thorn's direction, Eragon asked, "And Thorn? Will you be alright being separated from him again?"

The Red Rider nodded sharply, though Eragon could see the reluctance in his features. "I do not relish the thought of leaving him alone, but if we ward the clearing well enough I am confident nothing will disturb him."

Umaroth's presence withdrew slightly. It was, Eragon was learning, a telltale sign that the dragon was conferring with the other Eldunarí. After a moment Umaroth returned. Wards alone are not sufficient enough for us; we would be remiss if we were to leave Thorn unguarded after we just managed to save him. We have decided that one of us will remain behind to watch over Thorn and to power the wards.

Murtagh blinked, stunned. At Umaroth's urging Eragon spoke a few words, lowering the dimensional rift the Eldunarí occupied to his chest height. Without hesitation Eragon stuck his hands out below the pinhole-sized rift, bracing as a large Eldunarí was deposited into his hands.

Opening the silk pouch carefully, Eragon brushed his hand against the orange-colored Eldunarí lightly in greeting. The female dragon greeted him in return, her ancient mind filled with joy at the thought of experiencing something different.

Even if it was just guarding a slumbering dragon in a clearing with no one around for miles.

Eragon handed the Eldunarí carefully to Murtagh, his half-brother showing a reverence towards the dragon's heart-of-heart that surprised him.

Then again, the dragons have always been far kinder to Murtagh than the other races, Eragon thought privately. As a fellow human who had lived during the time of Riders' time had likewise experienced the prejudice elves sometimes overtly displayed. Dragons often saw promise in humans, whereas elves would not.

Reaching Thorn, Eragon stopped and waited as Murtagh kneeled next to his partner. Oromis and Arya came up alongside him, the three of them watching as Murtagh carefully placed the Eldunarí down underneath Thorn's large wing. Murtagh maneuvered the large gem until it was carefully concealed behind both Thorn's foreleg and wing. Turning around, Murtagh reached out for the purple hatchling.

Then, the four Riders began warding both Thorn and the surrounding area, tying the energy of the Eldunarí that would remain behind into the spell. Together they blanked the entire area in magic; both to defend Thorn and the Eldunarí and to conceal them from detection, lest anyone inadvertently wander into the glade. When they –and the dragons– were satisfied by the level of wards, Murtagh gently reached out a hand towards Thorn and softly ran it across the smooth scales lining his snout.

The red dragon softly stirred when Murtagh continued the gesture and began murmuring lightly. A red eye blinked into awakeness, and Murtagh locked gazes with Thorn as he silently explained their situation.

Once Murtagh was done, Thorn merely grunted in acknowledgment before shifting lightly to ensure the Eldunarí were hidden. Then he closed his eyes and resumed his slumber, his chest rising and falling in soft waves. For a moment Eragon considered what would happen if something managed to break or sneak past their combined wards; no doubt they would find that waking a slumbering dragon to be the last thing they ever did.

Murtagh settled down beside Thorn, pressing his forehead against the red dragon's scales. Eragon and the others let Murtagh have some more time with Thorn and began to ready themselves for their trek. They shared a light meal of bread and cheese before packing their belongings back into their saddlebags.

It was nearly noon when they were ready to depart.

Urû'baen was at least a few day's flight, less if the dragons did not rest throughout the night. The Eldunarí had energy to spare to help the dragons, though only Fírnen would realistically need their aid; both Saphira and Glaedr were centuries old and able to fly for days on end without rest.

Murtagh was to ride in the saddle behind Oromis, and once Saphira saw that the others were ready she launched herself into the air.

With strong beats of her wings, she angled herself to the south, the two dragons following behind. Turning to peer at Murtagh over his shoulder, Eragon could see his half-brother watching Thorn's retreating form in the distance until the wards they had placed finally made the red dragon vanish from sight.

---

Nearly two days of flight brought them right onto Urû'baen's doorstep. Slowly, as the city came into view, the three dragons descended. They used the leagues between them and the city to observe the city from afar, and Eragon allowed himself to finally take in the once-elven city of Ilirea.

Though he had seen the city the last time he was here –namely to aid in stealing Fírnen's egg– he had not allowed himself to take in the sights of the city. There were far more important things to consider back then, especially when success was precariously balanced on a knife edge. He knew there had been changes made to the city since he last visited, especially since he had helped pour over the various maps and documents before the heist.

He just was not prepared to see it in person.

The city was far more heavily fortified, with its thicker and taller walls hiding much of the city from view. The once-elven buildings were obscured by the newer, squared human buildings, the elegance of the city lost to the practicality of human design.

The traitor has burrowed deep and piled a mountain of stone about his hole, Umaroth rumbled. He will not come out of his own accord I think. He is like a badger who has retreated into his den and will bloody the nose of anyone who tries to dig him out.

To the southwest lay the Varden's camp, nearly a third of a league from the city. It was significantly larger, and it took Eragon a moment to realize that Queen Islanzadí and her army must have finally reached the city.

He hoped the elves were enough to make up for the smaller number of Varden soldiers. Galbatorix had the luxury of drafting soldiers from other cities to his cause, while the Varden relied heavily upon those who joined their cause out of belief or desperation. Even with their Surdan allies, they were outnumbered, but each elf was worth a veritable squad of soldiers.

Though, of course, it was the humans who stood the most to lose in this battle.

As the leagues between them and the Varden camp closed, Eragon and the others spelled themselves invisible with a few simple words of the ancient language. Then, when he was sufficiently sure that he would not be detected by any magicians inside the city, Eragon cast his mind out towards the Varden encampment, searching for one mind in particular.

Luckily, it was in the middle of the day, and Brom was easy to find.

It took his father a moment to lower the strong barriers around his mind, Brom seemingly preoccupied with something else.

Eragon?

Aye, Eragon replied.

Oh thank the stars, his father murmured, relief evident in his words and his mind. Is it done? Is Thorn…

Thorn is free, Eragon gladly reported, We were able to expel the Shade and reunite his body and mind.

How..where? Brom muttered quickly, his words fumbling. Where are you? Where is Thorn?

I'll explain when we land, Eragon stated. Do you know the small hill to the southeast?

Aye, Brom returned, already understanding where Eragon was going with his question. I will have Nasuada, Orrin, and Islanzadí meet you on the other side.

Roran as well, Eragon added. And do not hesitate to call on Blödhgarm and his elves to help as well; they should know what I have to share as well.

Very well, Brom agreed, thoughts already stirring in his mind. It may take some time to stagger their departure, but I will see it done. See you soon, son.

With that his father closed off his mind, ending their conversation.

Together the three dragons winged their way around the camp, angling towards the hollow at the base of the hill. With the grace that only a dragon could possess the three landed lightly, their wings beating strongly against the wind as they lowered themselves fully down onto the ground.

Leaping down from the saddle, Eragon stretched his legs and began casting various spells about the area; some to conceal their presence and others to defend them from prying eyes and ears. Then he replaced the individual invisibility spells cast on each of them with a far larger one, covering all three large dragons and preventing anyone from seeing them.

Arya leaped down from Fírnen's saddle and began to adjust the various straps around the dragon's chest, citing Fírnen's growing size as irritating the dragon. Oromis had likewise left Glaedr behind and joined Eragon in some light stretches. Murtagh, meanwhile, wisely chose to stand beside Glaedr, using the large dragon as coverage for when the others arrived.

Soft footsteps and the familiar pricking at the back of consciousness from his wards alerted him to several people approaching. With a ripple in the air Queen Islanzadí and Blödhgarm appeared, as well as the silver-haired Yaela. Queen Islanzadí stood in the lead, regal and as forbidding as ever. She was garbed in a fine golden corselet of scale armor, with a jeweled helm upon her head and her red, white-trimmed cape clasped about her shoulders. A slim sword hung from her hips, with a white-bladed spear in one hand and a leaf-shaped shield in the other.

Blödhgarm and Yaela were more simply adorned; Blödhgarm merely wore a scaled armored shirt and a small knife on his belt, while Yaela had opted for the more traditional elven armor, with a finely crafted elven sword and shield in each hand.

Islanzadí blinked in surprise as she passed the line denoting the beginning of the spells Eragon had erected, Saphira and the other dragons springing into view before her eyes. She reacted quickly, striding straight towards Eragon and the others. Arya had joined his side by then and stiffened slightly as the Queen approached.

Respectfully, Eragon offered a slight bow to the Queen.

"Queen Islanzadí," Eragon greeted, placing his fingers to his lips in the traditional elven greeting. "It has been too long since we've last seen each other, and, unfortunately, such an occasion must occur on the eve of such a terrible battle."

Arya gave him an incredulous glance from beside him, and Saphira chuckled at him in the recesses of their bond.

A faint smile graced the Queen's lips as she nodded at Eragon, almost pointedly ignoring Arya next to him. "Indeed, Rider. Greetings to you as well, Saphira." To Oromis she offered a nod in response to Oromis's gracious bow. Then when she glanced over at Glaedr she immediately stiffened.

Murtagh was standing lightly next to the large golden dragon, his left hand gripping the scabbard of his blade tightly. His other rested upon Glaedr's scales, the two of them having been interrupted from their conversation by the arrival of the elves.

He was grateful that she did not immediately attack, but even still Eragon could see her fingers twitching around the shaft of her spear. Blödhgarm and Yaela behind the Queen quickly cast Eragon a curious look, and he gave them a small nod. The two elves relaxed, though their gazes never lingered far from Murtagh's figure.

"I take it that you were successful in your endeavor?"

"Aye," Eragon stated, nodding his head. "But you will forgive me if I wait to explain the situation until the others arrive."

Islanzadí stared at him a moment before nodding. "Very well. if you will excuse me, I must insist that I speak with Arya in private before this meeting." She cast a meaningful look between Arya and Eragon, and the sudden thought that she knew made him feel like a young child waiting to be scolded. "There seem to be some rumors that I must substantiate."

Arya's desperate look that she gave him as she followed her mother made Eragon wince in sympathy. She followed her mother further away from the hill, their voices suddenly going mute. The three elves Eragon was left with seemed as bewildered as he.

Opting to ignore the mother and daughter, Blödhgarm stepped forward, inclining his head towards Murtagh. "Was he successful in breaking free of Galbatorix's control?"

"Aye," Eragon replied. "If you wish, I'm sure he would welcome your company." Blinking, Eragon had a sudden realization. "And be prepared for when Orik shows up. I do not think he will take kindly to Murtagh's appearance."

Blödhgarm and Yaela hesitated briefly, before bowing to Oromis and Eragon and striding together over to the Red Rider. For a brief instant, Eragon thought he spied a smile grace his half-brother's features. Glaedr swung his massive head and placed himself between Murtagh and the others, blocking the Red Rider from view.

Oromis remained behind with Eragon, the two Riders waiting patiently for the others to arrive.

They did not have to wait long. Three distinct footsteps approached, each far different from the other; one was heavy set and lumbering, while another was near silent, a mere whisper on the soft grass. The last was more natural, somewhere between the two.

Similar to Islanzadí's entrance, the wards rippled as the trio stepped through, Glenwing leading the way. Trailing wearily behind were Roran and Orik, both of them jumping in surprise at the slight pop that accompanied their transition. Orik was the first to spot Eragon and Oromis, the dwarf's face sparking with delight the moment he beheld him. Roran glanced around and gaped at the three dragons occupying the base of the hill, his eyes lingering on Glaedr's massive form. His hands tightened on his hammer, but a word from Glenwing seemed to calm the man.

"Ho Eragon! Ho Saphira!" Orik cried out. If the Dwarf King was surprised at Glaedr's appearance, Eragon could not tell.

The dwarf marched over to Eragon, pulling Eragon into a rough embrace. Eragon returned the greeting with equal vigor, patting the burly dwarf on his wide back strongly Orik turned and greeted Saphira with a heartily rub on her snout, before turning to face Oromis.

"Rider," Orik stated, inclining his head and appraising the older elf. "Your presence here is a boon; I am heartened to see you recover after your ordeal in the forest." The dwarf greeted Glaedr behind Oromis, and for a moment Eragon was glad that Glaedr's raised head blocked Murtagh from view.

"As am I, King Orik," Oromis returned, kindly smiling at the dwarf. "Congratulations are needed, it seems, for the last time we spoke you were not both wedded and crowned."

There could be no one finer to lead your people, Glaedr added.

Orik nodded, accepting the salutations. "Thank you most kindly. It is most unfortunate that such things were so rushed; more has happened in these past few months than in decades."

Oromis's face grew grim. "Such is the way of war."

Before either Eragon or Orik could respond, Roran and Glenwing finally made their way over to them. Roran pulled Eragon into a strong embrace, grimacing when Glenwing tried to encompass the two of them in his arms. Eragon chuckled at Glenwing, giving his friend a nod in greeting as Roran squirmed uncomfortably.

"Ah I am glad to see you well, Eragon," Roran stated, pulling away from Glenwing and Eragon. He nodded at Saphira behind Eragon. "You as well, Saphira. I take it you were successful?"

"More or less," Eragon replied, shifting on his feet.

Glenwing stepped over to Eragon, the elf placing his hand strongly on Eragon's shoulder. "I am glad you all returned safe," Glenwing softly confessed, the elf smiling genuinely at him.

Eragon nodded in turn, conveying with his eyes that they would speak later.

Roran turned to Oromis, his eyes sweeping across the older elf accessingly. A darted glance between Oromis's golden armor and Glaedr's scales must have informed Roran of his identity.

"Greetings, er, Rider," Roran stated, swallowing heavily. "We are well met."

Oromis smiled his kind smile, reaching out a hand in the human greeting towards Eragon's distant relative. "You are Roran, I presume? I am sure my presence, as well as Glaedr's presence behind me, must come as a surprise."

Roran hesitantly grasped Oromis's outstretched hand, clasping it tightly and nodding.

"We are indeed well met," Oromis continued. "There is much that needs explaining, and I am afraid that we must wait till the others arrive for our tale to begin. But know that I am glad to have finally met you."

Roran withdrew his hand and offered Oromis a hesitant smile, but before either one could comment they were interrupted by Orik's sudden cry of fury. Nearly everyone flinched in surprise, eyes carting over the area searchingly.

Eragon grimaced. Glaedr had shifted his head, finally revealing Murtagh's form for all to see. Whether Glaedr planned for this to happen or not was irrelevant at this point.

"MURDER!" Orik bellowed, raising Volund high in the air and pointing it at Murtagh. Murtagh stiffened but remained still next to Glaedr, the golden dragon watching the proceedings with a careful gaze.

Orik, in his blind fury, stepped forward as though to charge the Red Rider, but when no one else moved the Dwarven King turned to Eragon, wrath filling his eyes. "What is the meaning of this, Eragon? Why does the KingKiller walk free? Was he not to be imprisoned inside of Ellesméra?"

Eragon held up a calming hand to Orik, knowing that it would do little to cool the dwarf's righteous fury. "Forgive me, Orik, but Murtagh is here because we need him." Eragon glanced to his side as Arya rejoined them, aware of how Islanzadí gaze narrowed on their nearness.

Orik spat on the floor angrily, though his hammer lowered when he saw that no one made a move to join him. "I demand an explanation, Eragon, not a placation," Orik raged. Glenwing approached Orik's side, as though to cool his temper, but the dwarf paid the elf no mind.

"Yes," a voice said, stepping through the wards confidently. "We would very much like an explanation, for all this."

Four figures stepped through Eragon's wards; King Orrin in the lead with Nasuada, while Brom and Jörmundur trailed behind. All four bore equally shocked expressions as they took in Glaedr's massive bulk. Brom was the first to recover, unsurprisingly, striding forward with sure steps past the two leaders.

Nasuada and Orrin remained at the edge of the wards, gazing at Glaedr's form wearily. Neither one said anything as Brom strode past, and Eragon could see Jörmundur gaping at the three gathered dragons behind them.

His father quickly reached him, and Brom embraced Eragon tightly. Eragon returned the hug and felt the pure relief that filled Brom's form. After a prolonged moment of contact, his father withdrew, smiling proudly at Eragon. Brom reached out a hand and grasped Arya's arm next to him, offering the elf a smile as well. "I am glad to see you two unharmed," Brom murmured.

"You as well, Brom," Arya returned kindly. Eragon was shocked to see that she had not stiffened at Brom's touch.

Perhaps she was finally growing used to being included in his "family."

Brom greeted the three dragons in turn, each of them returning the welcome with words of their own. Finally, Brom turned towards Oromis, twisting his hand over his chest and bowing the elven greeting of fealty.

"O' Mourning Sage, when I heard of your recovery at the Agaetí Blödhren I could scarcely believe that such a thing was possible."

Oromis placed a hand on Brom's shoulder and squeezed, beckoning the man to straighten. "Thank you, Brom. You have done much since the last we spoke. The Varden would not be what it is today were it not for your efforts these past decades."

"I am but a failed Rider, and can only do what I can with my meager strength."

Eragon, and even Oromis it seemed, wanted to retort against Brom's words, but the man quickly shook his head. "Forgive me, Lady Nasuada, King Orrin. It was not my intention to interrupt what is most decidedly an important meeting."

Nasuada merely nodded at Brom's words, her eyes moving between Oromis and Glaedr hungrily, but Orrin seemed vexed and curt with his acceptance.

Oromis merely smiled, bowing slightly at the two human leaders. "We are well met, King Orrin, Lady Nasuada. I am Oromis Thrándurin, The Mourning Sage and The-Cripple-Who-Is-Whole. And this, as you have no doubt surmised, is Glaedr, who I have been bonded with for centuries."

King Orrin gaped, before growing surly and glaring at Nasuada beside him. "Did you know of this?"

Nasuada merely shook her head, giving both Eragon and his father disapproving glances. "No, I did not."

Queen Islanzadí, who had stood to the side as Brom and Eragon briefly reunited, joined the other leaders. She had placed herself next to Nasuada, keeping the Varden leader between herself and the Surdan King. "No one knew outside of Ellesméra, besides Arya, Eragon, Brom, and Glenwing. Orik too, was sworn to secrecy upon learning of them inside Ellesméra. Oromis and Glaedr's survival was one of my race's most well-kept secrets."

The two human leaders shared a glance at Orik, who merely shrugged in reply. His gaze was still set on Murtagh, the anger having not faded during their talk. Though it was plain that Orik wanted nothing more than to wring the answers from Eragon, he was smart enough to know when the right moment was to speak.

"Why?" Orrin frowned, glancing between Glaedr's massive form and Oromis's strong figure. "Why hide yourselves in the elven forest? When all of Alagaësia could have used your help?"

Oromis grimaced, gesturing towards Glaedr behind him, and the golden dragon's missing limb. "As you can see, we are not unaffected by the fall. Back after the Fall, I was not as I am now; I was crippled by sinister magic, and it was only through our ancient pack with the dragons that I was finally healed. Instead of dying at the hands of Galbatorix, Glaedr and I retreated to the forest, in hopes that one day we might train the next Rider and dragon in preparation for challenging Galbatorix."

Oromis smiled kindly at Eragon and Saphira. "As you yourselves know, Eragon and Saphira's survival changed much of our plans."

"Fine," King Orrin waved away. "I can see the reasoning behind your actions. But that does not explain his presence." The surly King pointed at Murtagh next to Glaedr, who had remained as still as a statue during the conversation.

Nasuada, unlike Orrin, seemed more interested in continuing to speak with Oromis and Glaedr, her gaze carting over their forms with a delighted expression before finally locking onto Murtagh. She cleared her throat, nodding at Eragon as she spoke. "I am sure Eragon has a reason for allowing Murtagh to be here, Orrin. Though I must admit I am likewise curious."

Taking a breath, Eragon gestured at Murtagh, beckoning his half-brother to join him. Murtagh glared but complied, moving to stand between Oromis and Eragon. Blödhgarm and Yaela trailed behind the Red Rider, eying the angry Orik wearily.

"I think it best we start at the beginning. A few days ago, the four of us," Eragon stated, indicating Arya, Fírnen, Saphira, and himself, "left to deal with the threat that was Thorn. We were ultimately successful in our endeavor, and Thorn has been freed from the spirits."

The others shared their surprise with wide eyes and gasps following Eragon's announcement.

"Freed?" Nasuada asked, surprised. "Thorn still lives?"

"Aye," Eragon answered. "He still lives, but he is severely weakened from his ordeal. With so few remaining dragons in the world, killing even one of them would have unforeseen consequences for Alagaësia. Though it was risky, our efforts to save him may have spared us a worse fate."

"You undid a Shade?" Orrin stated, incredulously. The wine on his breath was strong, but the King's words were clear despite his libations. "Even if we are to believe your words –which I am not saying I doubt– then you have ultimately accomplished something long held to be impossible."

Eragon hesitated, weighing his words carefully. The others had wanted to share the knowledge of the Eldunarí, but Eragon was firmly against such knowledge being shared. Unfortunately, Umaroth and the other dragons had deemed it necessary that the other leaders be told the truth about Galbatorix's power. Though he was the Leader of the Order, the secrets of the dragons were not his to do with what he pleased.

"There is much to tell you, and little time to do it." Eragon sighed. Gesturing at Saphira and the other dragons, Eragon continued. "Thorn was not yet fully a Shade; the creation of a Shade involves both the physical body and mind, which, for dragons, is uniquely difficult."

Orrin and Nasuada made to question him, but Eragon forestalled them by holding up his hand. "I will tell you why, as the dragons have bid me, but first we must have certain assurances."

Then, Eragon had all assembled –those who did not know the secrets of the dragons, at least– swear binding oaths of secrecy in the ancient language. They protested at first, but Eragon was adamant.

Once that was done, Eragon explained the concept of an Eldunarí to Orik, Roran, Nasuada, Jörmundur, and Orrin, as well as Blödhgarm, Yaela, and Glenwing. Like Queen Islanzadí, Eragon was not pleased to have so many learn of the secrets of the dragons, yet he knew that Umaroth was ultimately correct in his assessment.

They stand to wage a war they do not understand, Umaroth told him before Eragon began the meeting. Their people will fight and die in a war that may ultimately end in defeat. They at least deserve to know what it is they stand against.

Despite not being leaders, Roran and Glenwing had proven themselves trustworthy, and Eragon knew that they would never betray the dragon's trust.

And so, despite his misgivings, Eragon gave a brief history of the Eldunarí. Nasuada and the others were entranced by the knowledge –even Orik, despite his continued glares at Murtagh– but Orrin remained singularly unconvinced of their existence. It was not until Eragon retrieved Glaedr's Eldunarí from the pocket dimension –making it appear as though he was gathering it from Saphira's saddlebags– that Orrin finally admitted he was satisfied.

"Thorn had, in desperation, disgorged his Eldunarí," Eragon explained, raising Glaedr's as an example. The contact of his bare fingers against the warm gem made them tingle slightly, and he could feel the shifting thoughts of Glaedr brushing against his mind. "It was what saved him, in the end. By separating his mind from his body, Thorn was able to forestall the transformation, allowing us time to discover a remedy."

"Then this is not something that can be reproduced in humans? There is no way to unmake a Shade, once it has been completed?" Orrin asked, curiously.

"No, regretfully this method of preserving their minds is something unique to dragons."

"Most unfortunate," Orrin muttered, before turning to Nasuada. "Did you know of this?"

"No," Nasuada shook her head, staring at the Eldunarí. "I was not aware of this ability of the dragons." She glanced over at Brom, who did not meet her eyes. No doubt she realized that the old Rider would have had such knowledge.

Eragon and the other Riders did not tell any of you this –save Queen Islanzadí, who already knew– because it is our race's greatest secret. We do not share this lightly, Saphira stated.

Not even to Kings, Glaedr added.

To preempt any further questioning, Eragon once again held up Glaedr's Eldunarí. "This is the ultimate source of Galbatorix's power." At their surprised expressions, Eragon gave them a brief history of the truth of the Fall; despite not revering the dragons as closely as the elves each of them was dismayed to learn the fate of the Eldunarí captured by Galbatorix. Orik cursed and grumbled, stomping his feet to show his displeasure. Even Orrin seemed to grow pale at the thought of the suffering the Eldunarí must have endured.

"Galbatorix's cruelty knows no bounds," Eragon surmised once the others calmed themselves. "And this brings us to Murtagh."

His half-brother grunted though he remained wisely silent.

Orik, finally addressing the proverbial dragon in the room, stepped forward and weighed Volund heavily in his hands. "Aye," the Dwarven King spat. "Tell me, O' Rider, why he still draws breath."

"Murtagh was a slave," Eragon explained. "In both Name and body. Galbatorix broke their minds and stole their Names, which granted him complete control over both Thorn and Murtagh."

"Aye, we know this," Nasuada maintained.

"Then Murtagh was little more than a weapon wielded by the enemy," Brom cut in. "While Hrothgar's death still falls upon his shoulders, we must remember this."

"One would not disparage a hammer for breaking their thumb," Oromis added. "Murtagh and Thorn will stand trial by the Riders for their actions, of this I am certain. But to ignore the reality of their situation is to deny the events that led them here."

Orik's face turned red, but he did not protest Oromis's claim.

Murtagh has also freed himself from Galbatorix's control, Glaedr added. Together, he and I managed to alter his Name enough that Galbatorix's spells and oaths no longer bind him.

The other leaders appraised Murtagh carefully, though they still seemed uncomfortable in his presence. It was to be a given; Nasuada, Orrin, and even Orik had grown up fearing the Red Rider.

Finally taking a step forward, Murtagh crossed his arms and stared at each of the leaders in turn. His glance at Orik was brief, and Eragon swore he saw something like regret flash briefly over his face. "I am here to see Galbatorix pay for what he did to Thorn and me. To that end, there is much that I know of Urû'baen and Galbatorix's army that I am sure you would do well to know. He has laid various traps, both magical and mundane, that would devastate any army attempting to siege the city. That's not even mentioning the amount he has in his castle; Galbatorix is paranoid beyond measure, and has taken steps to ensure we will be severely weakened before we even step foot in his throne room."

"Even if we accept your aid here," Orrin stated, wearily eyeing the Rider, "that does not mean you are free from the punishment of your sins. If you step one foot out of line, I will have you killed on the spot."

Murtagh's face twitched, though he merely gestured towards Eragon. "He is still my captor. I will follow his orders."

Eragon knew how much it must have pained his half-brother to say that, though it was a testament to how much Murtagh trusted Eragon's judgment. Murtagh was not one to bend his pride easily.

"Murtagh will be of tremendous help in infiltrating the castle," Arya added, causing Eragon to blink in surprise. Arya, like the others, was generally more weary around Murtagh, though she had long since stopped viewing him as an immediate danger after their ordeal with Thorn. Arya continued, oblivious to Eragon's thoughts, "No one here, among the Varden or the elves, can claim to have stepped foot within the city's border since the Fall. His knowledge of the layout of Urû'baen and its defenses will be paramount."

"Fine. I can accept that Murtagh will be useful, even if I am not pleased about it. But once you reach Galbatorix?" Nasuada asked. "What then? You claim he has hordes of these Eldunarí at his disposal. How can you hope to match his strength?"

In answer, Eragon recounted their detour to Vroengard; the others were surprised to hear of it, though they listened with rapt attention as Eragon described the old Rider city. Oromis's face clouded over in grief, and even Islanzadí and Blödhgarm seemed stricken at the state of the island. There he described their ordeal in relearning their true names, as well as the existence of the Vault of Souls.

When he got to the part describing the Vault's contents, Eragon merely stated, "Open your minds."

Then, a moment later, the sound of whispering voices seemed to fill the air, and Eragon felt the presence of Umaroth and the other hidden dragons surrounding them.

The elves staggered, Islanzadí kneeling and pressing a hand to the side of her head as though she had been struck. He could hear her speaking to the dragons, greeting many by name and welcoming them as old friends. Orik utted a cry and looked about, wild-eyed while Roran, Jörmundur, and Orrin stood dumbfounded.

Nasuada smiled, one so joyous and full of hope that Eragon could not help his lips turning up in response. She was greeting some courtly, and many of the dragons clambered at the chance to converse with someone new. Oromis had joined with Blödhgarm and Yaela, speaking quietly with the two elves as they greeted long-lost friends. Glenwing stood apart from the other elves, his face a mix of emotions, and Eragon was not surprised to see two tracks of tears running down his friend's face.

Eragon's gaze, however, was captured by the sight of his father. Brom had gone still, the expressions on his face shifting with each passing moment; joy, grief, hope, and disappointment in equal measure. Carefully, Eragon reached out to his father, digging his hand into his shoulder.

"I'm sorry," Eragon murmured. "Saphira and I checked, but we could not find her among them."

Brom's face tightened. Saphira swung her head over towards the older Rider and keened lowly, nudging Brom with the tip of her snout. Reflexively, Brom reached out and stroked the side of her face, his face shuttering with grief the moment he touched her scales. "She didn't…'"

His words fell off, and Umaroth took the moment to press his awareness against theirs. Brom, son of Holcomb. You, who have done much in the service of our Order and my race. Your bonded is not amongst our ranks, but know that we hold close the memory of all those we lost in our hearts.

Tears formed in Brom's eyes, and his father collapsed against Saphira's head. She hummed comfortingly, and Eragon shared a glance with her. Eragon could scarcely know what his father was going through; though he had also thought the dragons lone gone, he could not imagine the grief his father experienced learning that his Saphira was not among their number.

Go, Saphira softly replied. I will stay with him.

Nodding, Eragon returned to the others, his gaze catching on Arya as she whispered to Islanzadí in their mutual excitement. It was perhaps the first time he had seen Islanzadí beaming with radiance, looking for once truly happy.

Orik was amongst the first to awaken from the reverie, stumbling over to Eragon. "By Morgothal's hammer, this puts a new twist on things! With their help, we might be able to kill Galbatorix!"

"You didn't think we could before?" Glenwing asked, saddling up to Eragon. He was the next to recover from the news, his eyes full of tears and his gaze moving to the spot behind Eragon every so often.

Orik choked out a laugh, "Of course I did. Only not so much as I do now."

Eragon hummed.

Roran shook himself roughly, his gaze sweeping around the air as though looking for the dragons.

It took some time for some of them to recover –namely, the elves, who were the most affected– and before long all of the leaders stood before him, glimmers of something like hope in their eyes.

Turning to Nasuada, Eragon asked, "What is the current state of the armies? I also assume that you've been busy planning for the battle while we've been away."

"Rightly so," Nasuada nodded, motioning towards Brom. Orrin seemed irritated that he had asked Nasuada first, but Queen Islanzadí did not seem slighted in the least. Instead, the elven monarch gazed at Brom expectantly.

Brom cleared his throat and stepped forward, catching the gazes of each of them assembled.

There, hidden by the small hill outside of the city, they planned the upcoming battle.

---

It was nearly two hours later –far later than Eragon would have liked– that they finally finished their discussion. Much of the planning had already taken place, thanks to Brom's relationship with both the Varden and the elves, but his father had used the opportunity to tweak the plan now that all of the leaders were assembled in one place.

Orrin was the one to require the most convincing, unsurprisingly. Questions of timing, placement, and signaling were important, but even Eragon grew tired of the constant negotiating Orrin demanded. Only once the Surdan King was satisfied were they all finally freed from the meeting and allowed to disperse.

Only Jörmundur and Nasuada left immediately, citing the need to ensure the readiness of the Varden and various other issues that demanded their attention. Nasuada wisely left Brom to linger, and his father took the opportunity to quickly step over to Murtagh and drag the Red Rider behind Glaedr's large form. Whatever their conversation, Eragon could not overhear, for his attention was immediately grabbed by Roran.

His cousin approached him–Eragon had taken to lounging against Saphira's side during the unexpectedly long meeting, with Arya taking up residence next to him– dragging a loudly complaining Glenwing alongside. Roran greeted Arya promptly, but otherwise did not object to her presence as he asked, "Can you stop the others from hearing us?"

Eragon blinked and cast a spell to shield them from listeners, though he did not miss the looks he received. Islanzadí, despite being deep in conversation with Oromis, continued to glance at him and Arya meaningfully. Pushing the inevitable conversation to the back of his mind, Eragon nodded at Roran. "Done."

Arya seemed surprised at being included, but she remained silent from her position next to Eragon.

Roran nodded and sighed, "I had some words with King Orrin while you were gone."

"Words?" Eragon asked, a pit of worry growing in his stomach.

"He was being a fool," Roran explained, "And I told him so."

"I take it he did not react very kindly."

Glenwing snorted, a strange glint entering the elf's eyes. "An understatement. He tried to stab Roran."

Eragon straightened, his fists tightening. "He what?!"

Roran sighed and glared at Glenwing, but it was halfhearted at best. "I managed to knock away his sword, but had he landed a blow he would have killed me."

Glenwing's nod told Eragon that his cousin's words were true. "Did you retaliate?"

For the first time since he had arrived, Roran smiled briefly. "I scared him, which might be worse."

Eragon grunted. It did not escape his notice that Orrin had left soon after the meeting had ended. "Who else knows of this?"

"Nasuada, Brom, and Jörmundur were present," Roran answered. "And whoever Orrin has told."

The brewing political nightmare that was before he was giving Eragon a headache. "The timing of this could not have been worse," he muttered softly enough that only Arya caught his words. She wisely remained silent, even though her hand surreptitiously grasped his where he had it resting between them. "What caused this?" Eragon asked, glancing between Glenwing and Roran.

"He was going to send 'royal greetings' to Galbatorix," Glenwing chuckled, though there was an edge of disapproval in his words. He would have put us all in danger, and Roran was merely the first one to speak his mind."

Eragon frowned. "An attack on you is an attack on both myself and the Varden. Orrin knows this. Why would he–?"

"He was drunk," Roran explained. "I'm not sure he was thinking of the consequences when he drew his sword."

"What did Nasuada say?" Arya asked, surprising all three of them. "She would not have taken an attack on one of her soldiers lightly, and she knows how much you mean to Eragon."

Roran blinked at her question but quickly recovered, offering the elf a shrug in reply. "I do not know; she dismissed me immediately and spoke to Orrin privately. She has not said a word to me since."

"Brom was worried about Katrina and posted some guards," Glenwing added. "I also took the liberty of placing some wards about the two of them, but I am sure that you will want to place your own."

"Orrin would not dare hurt her," Eragon murmured. "It would be beyond foolish." He shared a glance with Glenwing, showing his appreciation for his friend's care.

"Maybe, but you cannot say that for certain," Roran retorted.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Eragon sighed. "No, I cannot. I will speak with Nasuada and Orrin myself and refresh some of the wards I've had on the two of you."

Roran made to protest, but Glenwing knocked him on the shoulder –gently, for the elf did not want to hurt the man– and shook his head. "Fine," Roran said, even as the tension seemed to drain out of him. "I'd appreciate it."

Brom appeared from around Glaedr's massive bulk, a frown marring his face. When Murtagh did not follow, Eragon was left feeling worried about the content of their conversation. Brom marched over to Eragon, breaking the silencing spell Eragon had placed and leaning heavily against Saphira's hide.

Murtagh being stubborn? Saphira asked, nudging Brom with the tip of her snout.

His father scowled, rubbing his hand over his face. "Even after changing his name, he's still just as boneheaded as always."

"Change is hard," Eragon murmured. "It's a constant process, despite how our changing names may make it seem. Murtagh just needs time, father."

"Time may be something we do not have," Brom sighed, looking at all of his four centuries at that moment. The worry over his father only grew the more Eragon had seen what this war required of him; though Brom did not fight as he did, the stress of managing the Varden and advising Nasuada and the other leaders was beginning to weigh on the old Rider.

Brom did not have the benefit anymore of the dragon's magic to sustain his eternal life, and Eragon did not know how much longer his father would cling to life. He pushed his worry down, though he felt Saphira examining his thoughts closely before she allowed them to slip away.

Conversation flowed between them for some more time, each of them filling the others in on their exploits while Eragon and the others were gone. Roran seemed to have the worst of it, but the young man rarely complained beyond worrying for Katrina's safety.

It wasn't until Islanzadí approached them that Roran, Brom, and Glenwing departed, knowing glances exchanged between them as the Queen of the elves approached. Her posture was stiff and her emerald eyes blazed as she narrowed in on Arya and Eragon, and beside him, he felt Arya clench his hand tightly.

"Good luck," Brom whispered to Eragon, grasping his shoulder tightly. If it was for the upcoming battle or the impending conversation, Eragon could not tell. Glenwing smiled at the pair as he drew a confused Roran away with them, lightly murmuring an explanation as they went.

Islanzadí drew up to Arya and Eragon, inclining her head in greeting towards Saphira behind them. Fírnen had, Eragon noted, finally awoken and was watching them with keen amber eyes.

"Skörungr," Islanzadí started, after making sure that the others would not overhear. Indeed, from what Eragon noticed, only Oromis and Murtagh remained, though Eragon was unable to see them past Glaedr's massive frame. "Let us dispense with formality and speak plainly, for this is a discussion between mother, daughter, and her-"

"Mate," Arya finished, the word firm, even as she squeezed Eragon's hand tighter.

A strange cross of emotions filtered on Islanzadí's face; concern, joy, and a small measure of grief that Eragon was certain the elven Queen had not meant to let slip.

Islanzadí nodded. "So you said earlier."

Arya's face tightened, and Eragon could practically hear her getting ready to retort. Cutting her off before she could even open her mouth, Eragon said, "Aye, Islanzadí. We are mates. I know that this may seem sudden, but we are both fully aware of our situation."

Islanzadí arched an eyebrow at him, though she did not discount his words outright. "Where you anyone else, Eragon-vor, I would think you too human, and therefore too easily swayed by your emotions. But even you must see the difficult position this places both of you in; Eragon is both your Leader and your mate, Arya, and your ties to the elven throne cannot be forgotten, nor can your place as the elven ambassador to the Varden."

"We do, mother, and we have navigated the difficulties as best we can," Arya responded.

Islanzadí peered closely at the two of them, her gaze so intense that Eragon had to fight the urge to shy away. "Can either of you claim that your decision was not influenced by the war?"

'No," they both answered.

"We are fully aware of our reality," Eragon explained, "And we both have acknowledged that the war is a major catalyst for our relationship, but neither of us doubts that this would have happened anyway." Taking a breath, Eragon squeezed Arya's hand, "I love Arya, Islanzadí Dröttning. And it would mean much to Arya –and me– if you did not object to our relationship."

"If I did object, I would lose you all over again, Aya." Islanzadí drew inward for a moment, as though contemplating something. "If you must know, Eragon, I could think of no one finer to be at Arya's side; I only worry as a mother must, for the happiness and fulfillment of her child. Arya, even after all these years spent fighting Galbatorix, you have known little of the joy life can bring, and I cannot stand in the way of what little happiness you can find in this bleak war."

Islanzadí moved forward and placed her hand against Arya's face, her other moving to Eragon and doing the same. Stunned by the Queen's gesture, Eragon could not help but gape as Islanzadí smiled at the two of them. "Arya, Eragon, know that you have my blessing, for however long the two of you remain joined. Arya, your father would have been proud of the woman that you have become, and I do not doubt in my mind that he would have likewise approved of Eragon as your choice of mate."

Arya's mother gently kissed Arya on the cheek, before withdrawing. "But know that I am disappointed in having learned this from rumors, instead of my daughter."

His mate stiffened next to him, though she remained resolute in the face of her mother's ire. "Such things should be said in person, mother. Eragon and I were not yet mates when we last saw each other."

"I see."

The elven Queen studied the pair closely, and Eragon had the sudden urge to direct Islanzadí's attention anywhere other than him. "Are the elves ready for the battle?"

If Islanzadí suspected his motivation for changing the subject, she did not show it. "As well as we can be, Shadeslayer. We elves are slow to rouse but near unstoppable once we are; no one, save the dragons themselves, vie for Galbatorix's blood as we do." Islanzadí turned to Arya. "And you, daughter? Where will you fight?"

"With Eragon and Oromis against Galbatorix."

Something flashed across the Queen's face, but it was gone before Eragon could discern it. "I cannot stop you from participating in the upcoming fight, even as much as I wish to, Arya." To Eragon and Saphira, Islanzadí said, "Watch over her, I implore you."

We will, both Eragon and Saphira replied.

Islanzadí left after sharing a meaningful glance with Arya, leaving the couple alone, save for Murtagh and Oromis, who remained hidden by Glaedr. Whatever was going on with his half-brother, Eragon was unsure, but he did not want to push Murtagh right now.

Not so soon before the battle, where it would be a miracle if they would make it through unscathed.

Sighing, Eragon reclined against Saphira's side, tugging on Arya's frame and pulling her down with him. She went willingly, laying her head against his shoulder as he wrapped his arm around hers. "Let's never do that again," Eragon murmured.

Arya chuckled, the sound light and airy. "You were afraid of what Islanzadí would think of you? You, who willingly jumps off Saphira at a moment's notice just to gain my attention?"

Putting on a show of grumbling, Eragon murmured, "I cannot help that you make me reckless sometimes."

"Not too reckless, I hope."

"Nen ono weohnata, Arya Dröttningu."

---

When darkness finally fell, Eragon concealed himself with a spell and carefully made his way toward the Varden's camp. It was almost worryingly easy to sneak past the soldiers, though Eragon had to grant that the invisibility greatly aided his efforts. So long as he was careful where he stepped he would be capable of moving freely.

It did not take him long to find Roran and Katrina's tent, but Eragon was immensely surprised when he found Yaela standing guard outside instead of some random soldier.

Her senses were much greater than any humans, and the elf quickly spotted him, despite the care he had taken in weaving his spell.

Before she could move, Eragon cast his mind out to her.

Shadeslayer?

Aye, Eragon responded. Forgive the intrusion, Yaela, and the lack of warning. I merely wanted to check on my cousin and his wife.

It is of no consequence, Shadeslayer.

Yaela glanced around casually, before reaching back a hand towards the opening of the flap and moving it aside. Grateful, Eragon slipped past her, but not before stopping questioningly.

Why are you guarding Roran and Katrina?

If Eragon did not know better, he could have sworn the elf blushed.

Glenwing did not think that the guards placed here were adequate, and Brom and Blödhgarm agreed. I volunteered, but be assured, Shadeslayer, that I will be ready for the battle come morning.

Bewildered, Eragon simply smiled at elf, before forgetting she could not see him. Thank you, Yaela. It means much that you would protect Katrina and Roran tonight.

We live to serve, Shadeslayer.

The efforts that Blödhgarm and his elves took on his behalf were not lost on Eragon; he needed to find some way to thank the spellcasters for all that they had done. But such things would have to come after the battle.

If there was an after for any of them, at least.

Moving past the elf, Eragon entered the tent and dispelled the illusion surrounding him. Katrina gasped in surprise, and Roran rushed to his feet before realizing it was just Eragon.

"Welcome, Eragon," Katrina said, rising from where she sat on their tiny cot. She hesitated for a moment before embracing him. She glanced behind him expectantly. "Is Arya not coming?"

Blinking, Eragon frowned. "No? Were you expecting her too?"

"Er-"

"You just seemed attached at the hip, is all," Roran interrupted, before grasping Eragon by the arm tightly. "Never mind that; will this take long?"

Eragon shook his head. "No, it should not."

It only took a few minutes, but Eragon refreshed the wards he had placed on Roran and Katrina, as well as a few others he had in mind. "The wards I'm placing on you are different than the ones on Katrina," Eragon explained to Roran. "But that does not matter too much; just try not to have another wall fall on you, and you should be fine. For Katrina, I've placed several… conditional wards on her. They will only activate should something happen to you, Roran."

"What will they do?" Katrina asked.

"If we fail tomorrow," Eragon softly stated, "And you are left alone and defenseless, these wards will help guide you to safety. It must be said that they are not all-powerful, and will rely on your strength to power them, but the draw will be minimal; they will also warn you of oncoming danger but they will only last a few weeks. It should be more than enough time for you to escape from here."

"Where will they take me?"

Eragon shook his head. "Likely north, to the elves; they know who you are and will sense my magic in the spells They will shelter you for as long as you need. Either way, if one of us does survive, these wards will help guide us towards you. Arya, Oromis –my old teacher, which I'm sure Roran has told you about – and the dragons have agreed to be included in the ward. Roran and myself as well. If one of us survives, we will try to find you."

Katrina paled at his words but nodded her head and curtsied at him. "Thank you, Eragon. You have been most kind to us."

Roran nodded and clapped him on the back. "Aye. This war has taken much from us, but it also brought us together."

He smiled at the pair, "It is of no consequence; you are family. Guard yourselves tomorrow, and be careful."

"You as well," Katrina said, pulling Eragon down and kissing his cheeks. "I would be very upset if you got yourself killed, and our child never got the chance to meet such a dotting uncle."

Eragon laughed, even as he flushed slightly. "Do not worry; Saphira and Arya will not let me do anything too foolish tomorrow."

"And Glenwing?" Roran asked.

"He'll be right beside me."

Roran chuckled and knocked twice on the wooden beam near the entrance to the tent. When Yaela pushed aside the woolen fabric of the tent and whispered that it was clear, Roran accompanied Eragon outside. Roran nodded at Yaela, who returned the gesture and made a show of looking away from them.

"Thank you for that," Roran said, motioning towards the tent.

"Glad I could help."

Roran grasped Eragon's arm tightly, pulling Eragon into a firm hug. Low enough that Katrina could not hear inside the tent, Roran whispered, "If I don't make it back tomorrow-"

"I'll see to Katrina," Eragon promised. "You have my word."

Roran let out a relieved sigh. "Aye, I knew you would. Thank you, but I had to be sure." Roran pulled back, and the two men watched the shadows, flickering with movement as the Varden's night watch moved about for a few minutes. "We will be expecting you for dinner, tomorrow. Bring Arya and Glenwing, too."

"Aye, we will be there."

With that, Roran gave a quick nod before disappearing inside the tent. After sharing a quick goodbye to the watchful Yaela, Eragon recast the spell, once more striding through the night unseen.

It did not take him long to retrace his steps back out of the Varden camp, slipping away quietly through the masses. He passed by many fires in the night, each containing dwarves, men, and Urgals alike. They were all speaking lightly, weary of the coming battle in the morn. All at least save the Urgal's, who were eager to gain glory in the fighting.

By the time he had made it back to their temporary lodgings, Eragon was surprised to see Glenwing and his father having made themselves comfortable as well. Glenwing had brought a tent alongside him and was stuck arguing with Fírnen about the best place to put it, while Brom had taken up residency besides Glaedr and Oromis and spoke to the old teachers quietly.

Arya was the first to notice his arrival, and the two shared a small, private smile before Glenwing pulled him into conversation. After listening to the elf ramble on about where to place his tent, Eragon tried to assuage Glenwing that it mattered little to him where he placed it, but the elf would hear none of it.

It was not until Fírnen pulled the bundle of woolen cloth and wooden stakes with a daft claw from the elf's grasp and flung them out of their little camp was the argument finally settled.

Sleep under my wing, Fírnen finally told the elf. Arya is likely to spend the night with Eragon under Saphira's, and if it stops your complaining then I will gladly offer shelter until the morning.

Glenwing paused, a surprised look crossing his face. "Oh, well that's most-"

The sound of clanking chains interrupted him.

For a moment, Eragon glanced around the camp in an attempt to pinpoint the loud sounds, before realizing that it was coming from the distant city.

Murtagh appeared suddenly beside him, his hand placed tightly on Ithring on his side. "This isn't good."

Tensing, Eragon asked, "What is it?"

"Shruikan," Murtagh muttered.

At his word, all three dragons immediately rose from their resting place, their bodies low to the ground as they readied themselves.

The clanking continued for a short while, then there was a hollow boom, followed by silence.

Then, when Eragon thought that it was finally over, he heard it.

The sounds of a dragon, a massive dragon, walking on stone.

Throughout the nearby Varden camp, alarms were blaring as men, dwarves, and Urgal's lit torches and scrambled to wakefulness. Oromis and Arya joined his side, each gripping their swords tightly. Both elves bore worried expressions, but their resolution in standing together made Eragon feel slightly less terrified.

Brom and Glenwing formed up behind his back, and Eragon shared a brief, meaningful glance with Glenwing. He gestured his head towards his father and felt relief flow through him when Glenwing nodded firmly. His friend might act the fool in an attempt to elicit a reaction, but Glenwing was a fierce fighter and a loyal ally to have at his side.

The footsteps ceased. In the distance, the torches and lanterns were suddenly blotted out by a massive shadow. Then the dragon leaped up and out from the city, unfurling massive wings. Easily larger than Glaedr, the dragon flapped his wings strongly against the air, each beat like a clap of thunder.

Shruikan's pure size obscured huge portions of the night sky as he winged his way across towards the Varden. Eragon tried to get a sense of the dragon's true size, but the night was far too dark and the dragon's black scales did little to help.

"He's far too big," Eragon muttered. "He's only a century old."

"Galbatorix's magic," Oromis replied, sorrow filling his voice. "He has accelerated Shruikan's growth, and twisted his mind far beyond what I thought possible."

His wickedness knows no end, Glaedr hissed.

All of them were captivated as they watched Shruikan approach. Then, suddenly, a great bar of fire as wide as the Anora River arced across the sky as Shruikan wiped his head about, spraying torrents of blinding fire above the camp and the surrounding fields. Heat stung Eragon's face, even at his current distance, and the smell of dragon fire was strong against his sensitive nose.

The massive dragon turned about and flapped once before gliding back towards the city. Shruikan's black shape disappeared among the buildings as quickly as he had risen, and the clanking of chains and the echoing crack of a gate slamming shut signaled the end of the escapade.

Cries of dismay rose among the Varden, and Eragon grimaced as he felt a desire building inside of Saphira.

Then, with a mighty defiant roar, Saphira loosed a massive tout of blue flames straight into the sky. A second, blindingly green torrent followed behind, and Eragon heard the soldiers of the Varden crying out in surprise and elation.

Glaedr tilted his massive head and loosed an enormous jet of golden flames, far brighter and wider than both Saphira's and Fírnen's combined.

Stunned silence followed in the wake of Glaedr's brilliant display, but the cheering soon reached a fever pitch when the soldiers of Varden realized what his flames signified.

His father sighed and made his way towards the edges of their camp. "I suppose Nasuada and Jörmundur will have questions and concerns," Brom grimaced in displeasure at the thought, but waved away Eragon's attempts to join him. "No, stay and rest. I will go and ensure that the sentries are still at their posts, and try to assuage what fears I can."

Oromis sighed and glanced at Glaedr in what Eragon could only take to be exacerbation. The three dragons had settled down once again now that Shruikan was no longer an immediate threat. "I had hoped to conceal our presence until the morrow when we faced Galbatorix, but such things cannot be helped."

"It certainly got their attention at least," Glenwing murmured, gesturing towards the city. Indeed, since the three dragon's blinding display, Eragon had begun to notice more lanterns and torches lining the city walls.

If Galbatorix's spies were paying attention, then they would have to have noted the distinct lack of a red flame; hopefully, Galbatorix would then not suspect Murtagh's presence among them.

"Why did he not attack?" Arya questioned. "Was it merely to frighten us?"

"Galbatorix rules by fear. He revels in it." Murtagh stated. "He finds people's reactions to his displays of power amusing."

"Of course he does," Eragon murmured. "Well, there's little else for us to do tonight. We should rest while we have the chance. If what you've said of Galbatorix is true, brother, then I doubt we will face him here tonight."

Oromis nodded and bid them goodnight, disappearing beneath Glaedr's wing. Glenwing surprised him by instead striding over to the edge of wards, waving a hand in reply to Eragon's questioning. "There's someone I need to speak to. I'll be back in a moment."

Blinking in surprise, Eragon had an inkling who his friend was going to go see. Turning towards Arya, Eragon nodded over to Saphira's side, where she held her wing open in invitation.

There would be no privacy tonight for them, Eragon knew. No joinings that would sate the hunger he always felt around her. Instead, he wanted to simply hold his mate in his arms for the remainder of the time they had left, before they marched head-first into the looming danger.

Arya smiled at him and led the way toward Saphira's side, the two of them grabbing their rolled-up bedding and laying them down side by side. Saphira lowered her wing and encased them in near-total darkness, though that mattered little to either of them. They quickly settled down together on the spread-out bedding, with Eragon's arm winding around Arya's torso from behind. He spooned her tightly and buried his head into her dark raven hair, breathing in the calming scent of pine needles that always lingered about her.

He tried to calm his mind and fall into the half-sleep that was common to the elves –and him, since his transformation centuries ago– but nothing could still his racing mind. Arya must have sensed his errant thoughts for she shifted lightly in his arms, pulling his hand from beneath her torso and winding it tightly in her grip.

"Tell me what's on your mind," Arya whispered, even as she remained still in front of him.

Eragon sighed, "Sorry. I did not mean to disturb you."

"It does not matter," Arya replied softly. "Is this not what mates do for each other? Be there and listen to the other's worries?"

A light chuckle escaped him. "Worried about what type of mate you are?" When she was quiet, Eragon let out a huff of breath and buried his nose further into her locks. "You have nothing to fear," Eragon continued. "But to answer your question, I suppose I have far too much on my mind."

Her fingers stroked his hand lightly, a soothing gesture that helped ease some of the tension that Eragon did not realize he had been holding. "Tell me," is all she said in return.

"Your mother's reaction, Shruikan's appearance, the battle tomorrow."

"There's only one thing among those that I can solve here and now."

Raising a brow even though she could not see it, Eragon let a bit of mirth flow into his voice. "Oh? Do you mean to tell me after all these months we've spent together that you've had a means of defeating Galbatorix this whole time?"

Arya sighed in exasperation and pinched the back of his hand strongly, eliciting a gasp of pain from Eragon. He did not, however, draw his hand away from hers, even as she soothed over the mark on his skin. Behind them, Saphira chuckled, her rumbling laughter shaking Eragon and Arya slightly.

"You've been spending far too much time with Glenwing," Arya murmured. "We both know what I meant."

"Aye," Eragon replied, sobering up. "I was as surprised by your mother's directness in her concerns."

"According to my mother, my father used to say that the women in our family were headstrong and stubborn."

"You don't say?"

Another pinch, but this time not as sharply. "Were you not expecting her to be supportive of our union?"

"Were you?"

Arya's silence told him much.

Switching their grip, Eragon began to stroke his fingers over her hands, attempting to ease the stiffness in her lithe muscles. "The relationship my father and I have is always going to be different than the one you share with your mother, but that does not mean that your mother is not happy for us in her way."

"She said as much," Arya replied.

"Aye, but did you listen with this," Eragon said, tapping her skull with his free hand, "or this?" he continued, moving his hand down and indicating her heart.

Arya was quiet for some time, and Eragon figured that was the end of their conversation. Shifting slightly to entangle her further in his embrace, Eragon could feel himself starting to slip away into his waking dreams.

"If we survive tomorrow, what do you want to do?"

The whispered words were so sudden that Eragon was nearly startled into awareness, and it took him a moment to register their meaning. Arya whispered her apologies, but Eragon waved them away.

"When we survive tomorrow, I intend to take you far away from all of this for at least one day."

Arya seemed suddenly curious, twisting her head slightly in an attempt to catch his gaze. Stubbornly, Eragon buried himself deeper into her raven hair, even as some of it inevitably ended up in his mouth. "Oh? And what would we do, so far away from everyone else?"

"I would," Eragon said, rising on his elbow and placing his mouth next to her pointed ear, "spend the entire day making sure my mate knew how much I loved her."

Arya shivered underneath him, and Eragon reluctantly lowered himself back down behind her. It took her a few moments to respond, and her words were heavy in the air between them."I would like that."

Chuckling, Eragon whispered to her, "I love you."

"Eka dunei ono, Eragon."

---

1/12/2025 - This chapter has been edited to remove the purple hatchling staying behind with Thorn. My apologies

Uhh.. This one was long.

No action, sadly, and a lot of dialogue, but I hope you guys enjoyed it! A lot of credit, of course, goes to Christopher Paolini, with the usual disclaimer that I own absolutely nothing here. I "borrow" heavily from the canon material.

Anyway, there are not too many chapters left, unfortunately. We got the final battle, which may end up being a long chapter (no promises), and a final chapter (or two) to round things out, but that's about it.

Oh, there will probably be a shorter chapter included, that is something special, I think. The current plan is for it to come out after the final battle chapter, and for it to take place during the battle.

I will give you one hint: It won't be from Eragon's or Murtagh's POV. (Nor Roran's)

Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy this slightly longer chapter. It may be close to one of my longest yet. Not sure, either way, it went on for a lot longer than I thought it would.

Until next time!

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Ancient Language translations (Old Norse):

Italics represent the Old Norse translation; Bold represents Ancient Language.

Fyrir Neðan – Below Something. Fallen One

Du vættr Bani – The Bane of Spirits: Name of the Brotherhood

Vættr - being, creature; supernatural being, spirit.

Bani - death; bane, cause of death, slayer

Skörungr – leader, notable or outstanding person, paragon. Title for Leader of the Riders; given as an honor.

Guliä waíse medh ono, Skörungr - Luck be with you, Leader.

Grœnn – green. Verdant. More accurately, the color of the forest.

Grœnnskular – Verdant-scales.

Lengr – For a longer time

Ginnung – space, void

Lengr-Ginnug – Spacetime Tenga's definition of Space and Time as one concept

Istalrí - Flames

Freohr – Death

Blöthr – Stop, halt.

Eka dunei ono - I love you.