Chapter 13

Orik gives Eragon a wry smile. "You have quite the journey ahead of you Eragon… Until you are ready to fight, please think of Tronjheim as your home for the foreseeable future. Now, let me show you around. What do you want to see first, your quarters or the dragon roost? Maybe get a hot meal in your belly?" 

Right on que, Eragon's stomach rumbles in protest. 

Orik chuckles. "I will take that as a yes. Come, I will take you to the guard barracks. It won't be as busy and has a good stock of dwarven ale. Plus I want to see the faces of the guards when your dragon walks in. Some of the guards you encountered earlier might be in there." Orik says this with a slight devilish smile.

Eragon looks towards Saphira. "What do you think, Saphira? Do you want to join me for a meal or go and explore the dragon roost?" 

"You can spend some time with the dwarf on your own. I will claim the roost for myself then take a nap. You have a lot of work ahead of you and my presence will not be needed." 

Eragon looks slightly sad hearing that. "Don't think for a second that you aren't needed. You are a part of me as much as I am a part of you. I need you… I'm an insecure procrastinator that will always need guidance." 

Saphira chuckles, A small gout of smoke escaping her lips. "You forgot that you are an idiot as well. So many of your experiments could have caused you injury. Your luck will run out sooner rather than later." 

Eragon slumps his shoulders. "Yea, yea… Get going. I will make my way up there later and you can always talk to me through the mind link. I believe we have reached the range where you can be outside the mountain and we would still be connected, even if the connection is faint." 

Eragon turns to Orik. "Can you give Saphira directions to the roost? She will go on her own." 

Orik, while skeptical at first. Gives Saphira the quickest route out of the mountain and the vague location of the roost from the outside. She quickly leaves them for the fresh outside air as she is uncomfortable being in underground and constricted spaces. Orik leads Eragon to a mess hall for the guards of the mountain city and they sit down on some stone benches. For being made of stone, the seats aren't that uncomfortable to sit on. 

Orik orders the chefs to bring them whatever meat they have prepared and two pitchers of Dwarven ale. Eragon reluctantly agrees to drink the ale as he was never good with alcohol in his past life. All it managed to do was make him more depressed. While they wait for their meal, Orik turns to him. 

"So, Eragon. Soon you will be given the title of Shadeslayer."

Eragon tilts his head up with pride. "Brom and I stormed the prison at Gil'ead, I grabbed Arya and brought her to safety whilst Brom fought off the shade, then I returned and took Brom's place in an epic battle between man and monster. Durza was the toughest opponent I have ever faced. His speed and prowess eclipsed mine considerably. The only reason I came out the victor was that I had prepared a secret weapon against him. And before you ask… No, I cannot tell you what it is. I may need this card again in the future so I will be keeping it close to the chest."

"You plan on killing another Shade? I'm sure many would wish for such a title. The number of people who have had this title in all of Alagaesia's history can be counted on one hand." 

As the two are chatting away, a portly dwarf woman brings over a large plate of smoked meat with freshly baked bread and their drinks. The meat is from a very powerful beast called Shrrg, a variant of wolf that roams the Beor Mountains in large packs. The dwarves hunt them mostly to thin their numbers with the meat being an added bonus. Eragon carves off a hunk of meat and shoves it into his mouth. The meat is tougher than he expects as he has to munch on it for almost a minute before it is soft enough to swallow. He nods his head in satisfaction. The meat was expertly cooked and the seasoning highlights the earthy flavor without making it overpowering.

Orik and Eragon eat and drink for the next few hours. They talk about their personal adventures and exploits, quickly building up a foundation of camaraderie and friendship that will survive till the end of time. Sam can see why Eragon considered Orik a trusted friend and eventual foster brother in the novel. His noble soul and conviction inspires Eragon, giving him another reason to speed up his plans. 

Eragon has had a few ideas floating about in his head. He has thought long and hard about what he can do to increase his strength and survivability with as little risk to himself as possible. Genetic modification and body manipulation are a path that he will seriously consider in the days to come. 

Throughout his journey here, he has had no armor on at all, just a leather jerkin that has quite a few sword cuts in it from his fight with Durza. One of the ways that he could create powerful armor is to make an incredibly durable alloy from his past world to incorporate into the design. While he is thinking about what the composition of such an alloy would be, Orik has been drinking heavily and is now red in the face and his body is wobbling to and fro. Determined to be productive with his time, Eragon asks Orik to show him to his quarters. 

"Leaving already? The fun was just getting started…" Orik grabs his seventh mug of ale and downs it in two gulps. *belch* "Let's go. I still need to report to Hrothgar so I will be leaving you once we arrive. I will order a maid to wait on you should you need anything." 

Orik, already quite drunk, easily manages to get up from his seat and sashay his way towards the door, his gait resembling a sailor on a boat in a storm. Eragon follows behind him, the only effect the one mug of ale he drank is having on him is a slight buzzing in his head. After a few minutes of Orik walking through the hallways with drunken grace, they approach a doorway that isn't ten meters tall for once. The door is a standard size for a human and appears to be made of wood. Orik opens the door and ushers Eragon inside. 

"There you go, Eragon. I will be leaving now as I don't know how long I can stay awake… I shall see you tomorrow where I will show you around more and maybe we can get some armor made for ya." 

"Thanks Orik, and don't go passing out in a hallway, have someone help you."

Orik waves him off. "I'm fine, this is nothing to a dwarf. I've drunk four times what I did today just a few months ago and still ended up doing some paperwork… Even if it all got ruined when I spilled some ale on it… Goodbye."

Orik stumbles away whilst Eragon shakes his head at the dwarf's antics. He enters the room and shuts the door behind him. Inside the room, he sees a bed with a mattress made of Feldunost wool, a mirror on a stone dresser and a small basin with a bucket of water next to it on the floor. Seeing the basin, Eragon remembers that he wanted to use the scrying spell for the first time and check up on Murtagh and Roran. 

He walks up to it and pours in enough water to fill the basin half way. He then creates a mental image of what Murtagh looks like in the movies and casts the spell. He fully expects the spell to see nothing as the books said that you can only see things that you have seen with your own two eyes with the scrying spell, making it next to useless. Which is why it comes as a massive surprise to him when he sees a young black haired man maybe a year or two older than him sitting by a small campfire in the wilderness. His gray eyes fixated on the rabbit he is currently cooking. Eragon watches him for around a minute before canceling the spell. 

Satisfied that Murtagh isn't in danger currently, Eragon wonders if he could use the item sending spell to send him some enchanted items or letters, becoming a guide that will lead him to the Varden. While Murtagh is the son of Morzan, he proved many times throughout the novel that his heart is in the right place. 

Pushing that thought to the side, Eragon pictures Roran in his head and casts the spell again. After a few moments the sight of his cousin fills the basin. Eragon looks down, his eyes widening in shock. His hands that were gripping the basin began to clench, causing the stone to warp around his fingers from his grip strength. He sees Roran laying down in a bed. Gertrude, Carvahall's resident herbalist, is currently dabbing his forehead with a wet cloth. Roran's skin is deathly pale and he is shivering intensely. But there is one thing that Eragon is focusing on, his sadness and anger reaching heights he didn't think were possible. For Roran is missing his left arm from the elbow down…