Ivren stretched his limbs with a relieved groan. Oromis had attempted to teach him the Rimgar. Attempted as it had not gone well. He chuckled at the memory. Eragon had laughed about his stretching and found Ivren was worse than him at it. He'd let him have this delight and not shared the sources of his troubles. His scars ached with every wrong movement.
Often his friend watched him with curious eyes, as he did now. The scars wrote his life across his body and Oromis wanted to know it all. Some scars were self-explanatory, harmless scrapes from an adventurous youth climbing trees and rocks, a patch on his knee from a nasty fall and others showcased his dangerous life. Between acid burns, deliberate thin lines and whip scars across his back there was much for Oromis to wonder and worry about. Ivren appreciated him holding back with questions. He was ready to bolt, yet for once he wished to stay for just a bit longer.
"Have you finished your project?" asked Oromis. Curious, huh? Ivren grinned. "You'll have to wait to see it like everyone else."
Long and hard he thought about what to give for the Blood-oath ceremony. Ivren might not be a proper dragonrider but nonetheless he claimed Steorra and Aurora as kin and would honour them. Half in thought he touched his earrings. They claimed him as kin as well.
"I'll be glad to see your work." teased Oromis, "Perhaps I could watch you during the process next time?"
Ivren smiled. "Perhaps. Now we spoke about the theory of energy transfer..."
Not much later he stood in clearing, filled with dark green gras and the white heads of daisies. Eragon sat at Saphira's side, his hand petting her scales and gesturing in the air. Ivren walked towards them. Saphira turned her head towards him. Her body language screamed trouble. Her tai swished in the manner of a cat and she nudged Ivren.
"You have chosen a fine mate"
"Uh. Thank you?" Oromis, his mate? A strange thought, if fitting. Not quite the word he'd have used, but, well. She was a dragon.
"You like Oromis?" Eragon sounded hurt. "But I am not allowed to pursue Arya?"
"Our interest is mutual, yours not." Ivren felt the need to soften his words, "Remember, I am older than Arya and you together. I've been a grown man long before either of you were born. Other than that Arya has to work closely with you. How should she react? Offending you might cause harm to both of you. Putting pressure on her when she can't escape it is . . not good. Even if she were interested, Arya will always set aside her personal happiness for her cause."
Understanding appeared on the boy's face, then more questions. "Why then does Oromis does not have to set aside you?"
"Because – well, I can't know all on his mind, but I will try. To put it simply: I am an outsider, what is the worst that can happen if we cause offence? I might get banished." Ivren shrugged. "I always intended to leave, Oromis knows this. I wanted to stay for the Agaetí Blödhren, not for ever. Eragon, I would not have told you to let your feelings rest if Arya felt the same. I don't have the same duties. Live a happy life! Really, if you wanted to I'd say to leave it all behind! But don't pursue someone who does not want you. It will only harm you both."
"I understand now." Despite his words Ivren could see more questions coming. "Her companionship is too important to me to risk it because I couldn't behave around her. She has been showing us Ellesmera."
"That's great! Now what do you have planned for the Agaetí Blödhren?"
Excited the young man told him of his adventure in poetry. Their conversation was broken once by Eragon's injury, it worried him as it would be so dangerous in combat. Despite many attempts at helping Eragon, neither Oromis nor Ivren had found a solution. Even the usual spells against pain were useless. They numbed, stopped signal, enhanced natural responses or suppressed them, were dangerous or harmless, none could be used. His pain was born out of dark magic and bound into the wound, but it was not the wound itself. Pain-relief spells were always dangerous. Healing yourself of various aliments was one thing, using magic to straight up stop your body from telling you 'this hurts' was straight up stupid if you weren't very very good. One patch of skin on his leg still couldn't feel anything. If the elves who were master of healing magic couldn't do anything, then he would not even risk it.
Time vanished between moonlight walks, long conversation over tea and in the everlasting green of Du Weldenvarden. His beloved stars shone over them in this night. Garlands adorned the pine trees from the outer edges to the Menoa-tree, lanterns hung on branches everywhere and magical lights hovered in the air, flowers bloomed and grew under singing. The forest burst with life. The anguish in his heart quieted.
He put the last of his piercings on, the crystals humming with energy beneath his fingertips. Ivren wouldn't need the power tonight. Oromis and Glaedr were already there, the elf striking in his red and black robes. His own clothing was gift from Oromis, made of blue cloth and webbed with silver. It pleased him.
More and more people came, all as beautiful as moonlight. Ivren felt inadequate compared to their beauty. Oromis touched his wrist. The moment passed. What did beauty of other matter when he had Oromis?
Queen Islanzadi stretched her arm high into the sky, lighted a orb of light on her palm and placed it inside a hollow of the wood. The elves created a feast out of nowhere, tables laden with food smelling so good it was unnatural. The colours, the sight, the taste – all of it, beyond this world. And he was here! He, Ivren, would take part in this spectacle.
Then they started to sing and Ivren was lost. He did not knew how long, drawn in by the beauty and magic, ensnared like a helpless doe in intoxicating power and spells. Beneath his breath he sung along, humming and translating as it went by. Great adventures and greater heroes, long lost legends and dreams of times long past. Suddenly he understood why the elves were so dangerous. He never wanted to leave. That shook him out of his reverie. With a surprised blink he stared at the night sky. He took a calming breath and felt the song reach out to him again. It was a tantalizing melody, promising all he could ever want.
It took a great effort to hold against the power. He allowed himself to be drawn into dancing and singing, joy and celebration. Ivren held back tears when an elven girl sang of distant lands and travel. When he stubbled to the side, his knees twinging at the exertion and his side aching, Oromis gave him a concerned glance. Ivren managed a smile. He did not want to ruin this for him.
Glaedr let him rest at his side. The scales were warm and a years-old comfort. Ivren dozed into sleep. He grumbled as someone nudged his shoulder. He blinked. Green. Oh! Firnen sat on his chest, chirping. "Hello, little one."
He sat up and rested his head against Glaedr's flank, Firnen crawled in his lap, staring at his bonded with bright eyes. The young dragon had exhausted himself by tolling around with the children. Adorable. Arya and Islandzi recited poetry so beautiful it would move any being. He wiped tears of his face. Firnen gave a worried chirp. "Don't worry, I am just feeling . . much."
Soon it was time to present his gift. Ivren returned to his assigned hut and opened a wooden chest. Layers of cloth wrapped around his creation, for protection and concealment. He grabbed it all and brought them to the Menoa-tree.
His gift had the form of a dragon, he couldn't help himself, around the size of a housecat. Ivren captured an entire landscape inside it, for others a figment of imagination, but for Ivren it was his homeland. With paint he'd coloured the sky into a striking galaxy with those achingly familiar auroras, created pines, oak and juniper, lighted a thousand stars glowing with magic and clouds of smoke. Weeks it had taken, even after he hasted the drying process with magic and sung more tree resin forth. He was proud of the result.
Eragon gasped and complimented his work, Saphira followed and so did Firnen and Arya. Ivren preened under the admiration. "I would enjoy speaking with you about your source of inspiration later." murmured Oromis against the shell of his ear. His heart fluttered. Oromis truly knew him well. He was always reluctant to speak where he might be overheard, as if Oromis couldn't share his secrets, but it was good that he trusted him so, that he told himself. "I would like that."
Silver voices, drums and harps began their dance once more. The music pulled him in, baited him with beauty and made him loose all senses. Ivren closed his eyes. Ah, how the night was so clear! How the stars were so bright! All beauty was tenfold of what it was before, no thousandfold! He wanted to spend a hundred nights in such dreams, a hundred lifes and deaths, an eternity for all he cared! May his soul and life be forsaken, he could remain here until the world itself died.
He felt Oromis touch his arm. "Here, have something to drink."
It was water. Why was it water? Despite being water, it tasted like liquid honey.
"Perhaps a reprieve from the festivities is in order?"
Ivren chuckled. "You'd like to get me alone, don't you?"
He'd like that. Oromis smiled. It was radiant. Magnetizing. A moment so beautiful as when he watched the brilliant north lights for the first time on dragon back. "Mayhap. Perhaps you should renew your protections."
He was busy staring at Oromis hair. "Your hair is so shiny, like the stars. I really like stars. Asjáligr. Did I tell you that already? Iet stjarna. Né, eka thorta abr Nainar sem. O eka – wait, what wanted I to say?"
Oromis snorted. It was very unelf-like. Oromis started to laugh. Wait did he say that out loud? Oops. His laughter was prettier than any signing. Like a magic chime. Bells? He wasn't sure what to compare it to. Ivren promptly shared this with Oromis. He shook his head in laughter and barely managed to speak. "I'll renew the spell for you, my dear."
Ivren felt the magic rush over him like a wave of cold water. He blushed. "Now I understand why you warned me." He blinked rapidly. "That was certainly an experience."
"You need not worry about losing your composure. Many a rider behaved far more – worrisome than you."
"Ah, you have taken part in this, for -" Ivren tried to recount the years. Oromis answered for him: "Seven times now." "so, you have seen a lot?"
"A lot." Oromis chuckled. "We all behave a bit strange under the magic."
"A bit? I wouldn't call this a bit."
"What is already there, is enhanced." He wrapped an arm around Ivren. "If anything, it is flattering."
"I am happy you see it that way." Ivren rested his head against Oromis. "You'll see, dear, after a bit of rest, you'll be back to normal."
He took it as an invitation
Ivren looked with fascination at the elves with gills. Gills!
He asked them about how they managed to get that to work, but only understood half of the explanation, but understood the gist. The depth of body changing magics was impressive every time. With a smile he remembered how Rauthren had adjusted his body to lose his perpetual baby face. No one wanted to be thirteen forever.
And more fascinating people came by. Striking elves with eyes black as the void, beautiful and terrible at once. So many different ways of being!
Eventually, the elves gathered around the Menoa-tree. Graceful Islandzi stepped onto the root which served her as podium and begann to speak. ".. Of all old riders and dragons only Oromis and Glaedr are left. Brom and many others died in the last century. However with Eragon and Saphira and now Firnen and Arya, hope has returned! Now we shall renew the bound between our people."
As all found their place, two young elven women glid onto the glade and stood back to back. They were identical, other than their hair colours.
"The caretakers, Iduna and Nëya" whispered Oromis.
The Raven that always accompanied Queen Islanzadi crowed: "Wryda!"
Ivren swallowed. It was as if his entire skin was itching. The two elves let their white gowns fall to the ground. A striking tattoo covered them, a dragon in every colour of the world wrapped around them both. They looped arms and hands around each other so that the dragon was one being. Each one lifted a foot and rammed it onto the ground. Another thump. And with the third thump, drums started, then on the fourth the harps and then the flutes. Ivren closed his eyes, entranced.
Suddenly the spellsong began. Ivren could barely understand a word, too fast for even him. Despite it the meaning resounded in his heart and some ancient part, marked by magic, knew the spell. He sung along, eyes still closed and only opened them as he felt a strange feeling on his skin. His scars gleamed, bright with magic and power, responding to the growing storm. The three dragons joined in. He wished Nainar were here and Aurora and Steorra and Eous and – many more..
Ivren gasped as the dragon lifted off the dancers. It glid through the air, a magical force and yet a being, alive. The dragon released a great roar and swiftly turned towards the people beneath it. Its eyes meet Ivren's and he felt the curious being touch his spirit. He bowed, but only slightly. After a moment the being touched Eragon's palm and the boy passed out with a cry. He was at his side before he knew it. His brow wrinkled. He was fine? Good, but strange. Power clung to Eragon, ancient magic, dragon magic.
Ivren looked to Saphira. "I can't feel anything wrong with him. Let me bring him to his bed?"
She hovered over her rider, worried waving of her like smoke. After Oromis and an elven healer checked him as well, she agreed. "That never happened before." admitted Oromis. Ivren had a few ideas why. "There hasn't been a lack of dragons here before."
"A possible explanation." Oromis sighed. "We have to finish the ceremony. Please look after him."
Ivren brought Eragon to bed and prepared himself for a long night.