Christopher Paolini - Eragon [en]

“Because of Galbatorix’s betrayals, the elves were reluctant to let any of the Varden handle the egg for fear that the dragon inside would hatch for a human with similar instabilities. It was a challenging situation, as both sides wanted the Rider for their own. The dwarves only aggravated the problem by arguing obstinately with both the elves and us whenever they had the chance. Tensions escalated, and before long, threats were made that were later regretted. It was then that Brom suggested a compromise that allowed all sides to save face.

“He proposed that the egg be ferried between the Varden and the elves every year. At each place children would parade past it, and then the bearers of the egg would wait to see if the dragon would hatch. If it didn’t, they would leave and return to the other group. But if the dragon did hatch, the new Rider’s training would be undertaken immediately. For the first year or so he or she would be instructed here, by Brom. Then the Rider would be taken to the elves, who would finish the education.

“The elves reluctantly accepted this plan... with the stipulation that if Brom were to die before the dragon hatched, they would be free to train the new Rider without interference. The agreement was slanted in their favor — we both knew that the dragon would likely chose an elf — but it provided a desperately needed semblance of equality.”

Ajihad paused, his rich eyes somber. Shadows bit into his face under his cheekbones, making them jut out. “It was hoped that this new Rider would bring our two races closer together. We waited for well over a decade, but the egg never hatched. The matter passed from our minds, and we rarely thought about it except to lament the egg’s inactivity.

“Then last year we suffered a terrible loss. Arya and the egg disappeared on her return from Tronjheim to the elven city Osilon. The elves were the first to discover she was missing. They found her steed and guards slain in Du Weldenvarden and a group of slaughtered Urgals nearby. But neither Arya nor the egg was there. When this news reached me, I feared that Urgals had both of them and would soon learn the location of Farthen Dûr and the elves’ capital, Ellesméra, where their queen, Islanzadi, lives. Now I understand they were working for the Empire, which is far worse.

“We won’t know exactly what occurred during that attack until Arya wakes, but I have deduced a few details from what you’ve said.” Ajihad’s vest rustled as he leaned his elbows on the desk. “The attack must have been swift and decisive, else Arya would have escaped. Without any warning, and deprived of a place to hide, she could have done only one thing — used magic to transport the egg elsewhere.”

“She can use magic?” asked Eragon. Arya had mentioned that she had been given a drug to suppress her power; he wanted to confirm that she meant magic. He wondered if she could teach him more words of the ancient language.

“It was one of the reasons why she was chosen to guard the egg. Anyway, Arya couldn’t have returned it to us — she was too far away — and the elves’ realm is warded by arcane barriers that prevent anything from entering their borders through magical means. She must have thought of Brom and, in desperation, sent the egg toward Carvahall. Without time to prepare, I’m not surprised she missed by the margin she did. The Twins tell me it is an imprecise art.”

“Why was she closer to Palancar Valley than the Varden?” asked Eragon. “Where do the elves really live? Where is this... Ellesméra?”

Ajihad’s keen gaze bored into Eragon as he considered the question. “I don’t tell you this lightly, for the elves guard the knowledge jealously. But you should know, and I do this as a display of trust. Their cities lie far to the north, in the deepest reaches of the endless forest Du Weldenvarden. Not since the Riders’ time has anyone, dwarf or human, been elf-friend enough to walk in their leafy halls. I do not even know how to find Ellesméra. As for Osilon... based on where Arya disappeared, I suspect it is near Du Weldenvarden’s western edge, toward Carvahall. You must have many other questions, but bear with me and keep them until I have finished.”

He gathered his memories, then spoke at a quickened pace. “When Arya disappeared, the elves withdrew their support from the Varden. Queen Islanzadi was especially enraged and refused any further contact with us. As a result, even though I received Brom’s message, the elves are still ignorant of you and Saphira... Without their supplies to sustain my troops, we have fared badly these past months in skirmishes with the Empire.

“With Arya’s return and your arrival, I expect the queen’s hostility will abate. The fact that you rescued Arya will greatly help our case with her. Your training, however, is going to present a problem for both Varden and elves. Brom obviously had a chance to teach you, but we need to know how thorough he was. For that reason, you’ll have to be tested to determine the extent of your abilities. Also, the elves will expect you to finish your training with them, though I’m not sure if there’s time for that.”

“Why not?” asked Eragon.

“For several reasons. Chief among them, the tidings you brought about the Urgals,” said Ajihad, his eyes straying to Saphira. “You see, Eragon, the Varden are in an extremely delicate position. On one hand, we have to comply with the elves’ wishes if we want to keep them as allies. At the same time, we cannot anger the dwarves if we wish to lodge in Tronjheim.”

“Aren’t the dwarves part of the Varden?” asked Eragon.

Ajihad hesitated. “In a sense, yes. They allow us to live here and provide assistance in our struggle against the Empire, but they are loyal only to their king. I have no power over them except for what Hrothgar gives me, and even he often has trouble with the dwarf clans. The thirteen clans are subservient to Hrothgar, but each clan chief wields enormous power; they choose the new dwarf king when the old one dies. Hrothgar is sympathetic to our cause, but many of the chiefs aren’t. He can’t afford to anger them unnecessarily or he’ll lose the support of his people, so his actions on our behalf have been severely circumscribed.”

“These clan chiefs,” said Eragon, “are they against me as well?”

“Even more so, I’m afraid,” said Ajihad wearily. “There has long been enmity between dwarves and dragons — before the elves came and made peace, dragons made a regular habit of eating the dwarves’ flocks and stealing their gold — and the dwarves are slow to forget past wrongs. Indeed, they never fully accepted the Riders or allowed them to police their kingdom. Galbatorix’s rise to power has only served to convince many of them that it would be better never to deal with Riders or dragons ever again.” He directed his last words at Saphira.

Eragon said slowly, “Why doesn’t Galbatorix know where Farthen Dûr and Ellesméra are? Surely he was told of them when he was instructed by the Riders.”

“Told of them, yes — shown where they are, no. It’s one thing to know that Farthen Dûr lies within these mountains, quite another to find it. Galbatorix hadn’t been taken to either place before his dragon was killed. After that, of course, the Riders didn’t trust him. He tried to force the information out of several Riders during his rebellion, but they chose to die rather than reveal it to him. As for the dwarves, he’s never managed to capture one alive, though it’s only a matter of time.”

“Then why doesn’t he just take an army and march through Du Weldenvarden until he finds Ellesméra?” asked Eragon.

“Because the elves still have enough power to resist him,” said Ajihad. “He doesn’t dare test his strength against theirs, at least not yet. But his cursed sorcery grows stronger each year. With another Rider at his side, he would be unstoppable. He keeps trying to get one of his two eggs to hatch, but so far he’s been unsuccessful.”