They sat dully around a small campfire, either sitting motionless or messing with something small and unimportant. Eragon was busying himself with altering his hands to have thick callouses on the back for whatever reason, Abyss staring blankly into the flames, Toby nowhere to be seen as Endogeny lay stretched out, quiet with unease brought by the tension in the air.

Arya was sitting still, upright and hugging her knees to herself as Bird fiddled with arrows, trying to make more from sticks, twine and his own shedded feathers.

Eventually Eragon leaned back on his elbows and stared into the flames as well, slowly growing more disturbed by his own thoughts while a soft glow lit up Abyss's scarves, illuminating each strand from within. They drew in closer around him, freakishly alive. It seemed to give off aquamarine embers, the little lights drifting away coldly. In the distance, wolves slowly raised their voices in a howl, Endogeny's ears twitching at the noise.

Bird was glancing up curiously when Eragon shifted suddenly, looking entirely distressed, slick with cold sweat. Arya took notice.
"What's wrong? Is it the wolves? They shall not bother us, you know. They are teaching their pups how to hunt, and they won't allow their younglings near creatures that smell as strangely as we do."

"It's not the wolves out there." Eragon spoke quietly whilst hugging himself, pointing to his head. "It's the wolves in here."
She nodded sharply, understanding.
"It is always thus. The beasts of the mind are far worse than those that actually exist. Fear, doubt, and hate have hamstrung more people than beasts ever have."

"And love." Eragon added.
"And love." She corrected. "Also greed and jealousy and every other obsessive urge the sentient races are susceptible to."

It was quiet. Endogeny let out a soft whine in the lapse in conversation. Then Eragon asked.
"Does it bother you when you kill?"

Her eyes narrowed at him.
"Neither I nor the rest of my people eat the flesh of animals because we cannot bear to hurt another creature to satisfy our hunger, and you have the effrontery to ask if killing disturbs us? Do you really understand so little of us that you believe we are cold-hearted murderers?"

"No, of course not." Eragon explained.
"I don't think he meant it that way." Bird defended nervously. Eragon nodded towards him. "I didn't."

"Then say what you mean, and do not give insult unless it is your intention."
Eragon hesitated, then spoke more slowly.

"I asked this of Roran before we attacked Helgrind, or a question very like it. What I want to know is, how do you feel when you kill? How are you supposed to feel?" He scowled at the meager campfire.

"Do you see the warriors you have vanquished staring back at you, as real as you are before me?"

Arya held her legs closer to her chest, staring thoughtfully into the flames. They crackled, one flare flying up and incinerating a moth that had flown too close.

"Gánga." She whispered, waving a finger at the insects as they fluttered away. Still gazing into the depths of the flame, she spoke.

"Nine months after I I became an ambassador, my mother's only ambassador, if truth be told, I traveled from the Varden in Farthen Dûr to the capital of Surda, which was still a new country in those days. Soon after my companions and I left the Beor Mountains, we encountered a band of roving Urgals. We were content to keep our swords in our sheaths and continue on our way, but as is their wont, the Urgals on trying to win honor and glory to better their standing within their tribes. Our force was larger than theirs- for Weldon, the man who succeeded Brom as leader of the Varden, was with us- and it was easy for us to drive them off…. That day was the first time I took a life. It troubled me for weeks afterward, until I realized I would go mad if I continued to dwell on it. Many do, and they become so angry, so grief-ridden, they can no longer be relied upon, or their hearts turn to stone and they lose the ability to distinguish right from wrong."

"How did you come to terms with what you had done?" Eragon asked, Bird leaning forward, eager to know as well.
"I examined my reasons for killing to determine if they were just." She said.

"Satisfied they were, I asked myself if our cause was important enough to continue supporting it, even though it would probably require me to kill again. Then I decided that whenever I began to think of the dead, I would picture myself in the gardens of Tialdarí Hall."
"Did it work?"

She tucked her hair out of her face and behind her ear.
"It did. The only antidote for the corrosive poison of violence is finding peace within yourself. It's a difficult cure to obtain, but we'll worth the effort."

She hesitated. "Breathing helps too."
"Breathing?" Eragon asked.
"Slow, regular breathing, as if you were meditating. It is one of the most effective methods for calming yourself."

Eragon went silent, taking Arya's advice. Endogeny sighed, getting up and pacing away. They were silhouetted by the stars as the wolves started howling again. As they did, the amalgam joined in, their discordant, malformed voice of many singing among the others, blending in to sound much like another pack of wolves.

"Thank you." Eragon murmured. The elf whose face was made human inclined her head.

Endogeny stood howling with the wolves for about twenty minutes or so, then returned to campfire, satisfied with themselves. After some time of quiet, Eragon said one word.
"Urgals."
He added nothing to it, so a minute or so later Bird spoke.
"They remind me of goblins, but taller."

The others looked at him, expecting more. He blinked under their gazes and straightened, dusting himself off as his wings fluttered lightly.

"I've heard they're still alive in a few AU's, along with trolls and fairies, but what they actually are varies a lot. Most of the time they were a race related to both humans and monsters that died out in the war fighting for monsterkind, sometimes they're just monsters. They normally have.. had? Had a system of honor that's a little bit like what I've seen in Urgals. They're really not all that different, just less all-out violence and a lot smaller. Goblins were kinda the size of dwarves, really."

He paused. "When I first saw an Urgal I almost thought goblins were here, but I'd already heard enough about Urgals to know it wasn't a goblin." He glanced at Arya cautiously.

"Like goblins are like Urgals, faries were a lot like the elves."
"How do you mean?" Arya asked.
"They were also called the Fair Folk, for one. I heard they were related to goblins too, though. Sometimes they were human/monster hybrids and sometimes just monsters. They were also normally a lot smaller, and…" He gestured with his wings. "They could fly, too, but theirs were more like an insect's wings. Some were butterfly wings. They were beautiful.."

"You've seen them?"
"In pictures. They existed in my AU. They look so much like humans or, well, elves really, that you'd think our humans would have spared them from the Underground. It's a lot worse on us than you'd think. We're meant to fly, and they locked us away- unable to even see the sky."

He stared up at the stars, eyelights absent as tears welled in his sockets. "But with the Resets, me being the only one who really remembered… Seeing that sky for the first time with everyone you love around you, and-" His voice broke for a moment.

"And the next, you're waking up back in the darkness, and everything around you is falling apart as everyone is dying and you can't do anything about it except put up a meager effort near the end knowing you'll die too, and it'll all start over again."
The first few tears fell, silently sliding down his cheekbones.

"I don't know how the others dealt with it, especially if they had mostly genocide. How some.. human just came and saw an entire lost and fading civilization as some game. How this happened thousands and thousands and millions of times with so many versions of that same human…." He glanced up at the others, seeing Abyss silently stare back with tears in his own eyesockets.
"It makes you hate the Multiverse and everything about it." He hissed with surprising venom in his voice.

Silence reigned for the better part of ten minutes, the tension fading as they all gazed into the flames, then Eragon chose to change the subject.
"What do you think about Nasuada allowing Urgals to join the Varden?" He asked to no one in particular.

Since Abyss was still uncharacteristically silent and Bird was unwilling to speak, Arya answered. "It was a courageous decision, and I admire her for it. She always acts in the best interest of the Varden, no matter what the cost may be."
"She upset many of the Varden when she accepted Garzhvog's offer of support."

"And she won back their loyalty with the Trial of the Long Knives. Nasuada is very clever when it comes to maintaining her position." Arya flicked a twig into the flames, watching it burn.

"I have no love for Urgals, but neither do I hate them. Unlike the Ra'zac, they are not inherently evil, merely overfond of war. It is an important distinction, even if it can provide no consolation to the families of their victims. We elves have treated with Urgals before, and we shall again when the need arises. It is a futile prospect, however."
They watched the flames crackle and pop for awhile, pensive.

"How is it," Eragon asked cautiously. "That Durza was able to ambush you, Glenwing, and Fäolin with Urgals? Didn't you have wards to protect yourself against physical attacks?"
"The arrows were enchanted."
"Were the Urgals spellcasters, then?"

Arya closed her eyes, shaking her head with a sigh. "No, it was some dark magic of Durza's invention. He gloated about it when I was in Gil'ead."
"I don't know how you managed to resist him for so long. I saw what he did to you."

"It… it was not easy. I viewed the torments he inflicted on me as a test of my commitment, as a chance to demonstrate that I had not made a mistake and I was indeed worthy of the yawë symbol. As such, I welcomed the ordeal."
"But still, even elves are not immune to pain. It's amazing you could keep the location of Ellesméra hidden from him all those months."

There was a hint of pride in her words as she next spoke.
"Not just the location of Ellesméra but also where I had sent Saphira's egg, my vocabulary in the ancient language, and everything else that might be of use to Galbatorix."

There was a moment where there were no words spoken, only contemplation. Then Eragon queried further.
"Do you think about it much, what you went through in Gil'ead?"
She was silent.

He continued. "You never talk about it. You recount the facts of your imprisonment readily enough, but you never mention what it was like for you, nor how you feel about it now."
"Pain is pain. It needs no description."

"True, but ignoring it can cause more harm than the original injury…. No one can live through something like that and escape unscathed. Not on the inside, at least."
"Why do you assume I have not already confided in someone?"
"Who?"
"Does it matter? Ajihad, my mother, a friend in Ellesméra."

Eragon hesitated.
"Perhaps I am wrong, but you do not seem that close to anyone. Where you walk, you walk alone, even among your own people."
She did not respond, her face entirely blank.

Strangely enough, Abyss peered at her with his large, wide eyelights and teared up, scooting backwards as though he saw something horrible and cruel.
Then she whispered, a soft sound that was barely heard over the crackling flames.
"It was not always so."

The campsite went still as she seemed lost in thought, entirely still except for the ever-changing flickering flames.

"Once, I had someone to talk to, someone who understood what I was and where I came from. Once… He was older than I, but we were kindred spirits, both curious about the world outside our forest, eager to explore and eager to strike against Galbatorix. Neither of us could bear to stay in Du Weldenvarden- studying, working magic, pursuing our own personal projects- when we knew the Dragon Killer, the bane of the Riders, was searching for a way to conquer our race. He came to that conclusion later than I- decades after I assumed my position as ambassador and a few years before Hefring stole Saphira's egg- but the moment he did, he volunteered to accompany me wherever Islanzadí's orders might take me."

She blinked. "I wasn't going to let him, but the queen liked the idea, and he was so very convincing…." She blinked again, pursing her lips for but a moment, eyes gleaming.
Eragon dared speak softly.
"Was it Fäolin?"
"Yes." She gasped, her voice unstable.

She peered up at the starry sky, then asked in that same broken voice.
"Do you ask out of friendly concern or your own self interest?" She choked on a laugh before continuing.
"Never mind. The night air has addled me. It has undone my sense of courtesy and left me free to say the most spiteful things that occur to me."
"No matter."

"It does matter, because I regret it, and I shall not tolerate it. Did I love Fäolin? How would you define love? For over twenty years, we traveled together, the only immortals to walk among the short-lived races. We were companions… and friends."

She studied the vast, dark sky of blinking lights, surveying the constellations as she started rocking back and forth, lost in her own little world.

"Over twenty years. And then in a single instant, Durza tore that away from me. Fäolin and Glenwing were the first elves to die in combat for nearly a century. When I saw Fäolin fall, I understood then that the true agony of war isn't being wounded yourself, it's having to watch those you care about being hurt. It was a lesson I thought I had already learned during my time in the Varden when, one after another, the men and women I had come to respect died from swords, arrows, poisons, accidents, and old age. The loss had never been so personal, however, and when it happened, I thought, 'Now I must surely die as well'. For whatever danger we had encountered before, Fäolin and I had always survived it together, and if he could not escape, then why should I?"

The tears were flowing down her face, out of the corners of her eyes and into her hair as she stared mindlessly into the sky. She continued, unable to think of stopping.

"Then Gil'ead."
She said with her voice cracking slightly. "Those days were the longest of my life. Fäolin was gone, I did not know whether Saphira's egg was safe or if I had inadvertently returned her to Galbatorix, and Durza… Durza sated the bloodlust of the spirits that controlled him by doing the most horrible things he could imagine to me. Sometimes, if he went too far, he would heal me so he could begin anew the following morning. If he had given me a chance to collect my wits, I might have been able to fool my jailer, as you did, and avoid consuming the drug that kept me from using magic, but I never had more than a few hours' respite."

She still spoke in the same broken voice.
"Durza needed sleep no more than you or I, and he kept at me whenever I was conscious and his other duties permitted. While he worked on me, every second was an hour, every hour a week, and every day an eternity. He was careful not to drive me mad- Galbatorix would have been very displeased with that- but he came close. He came very, very close. I began to hear birdsong where no birds could fly and to see things that could not exist. Once, when I was in my cell, gold light flooded the room and I grew warm all over. When I looked up, I found myself lying on a branch high in a tree near the center of Ellesméra. The sun was about to set, and the whole city glowed as if it were on fire. The Äthalvard were chanting on the path below, and everything was so calm, so peaceful...so beautiful, I would have stayed there forever. But then the light faded, and I was again on my cot…."

"I had forgotten, but once there was a soldier who left a white rose in my cell. It was the only kindness anyone ever showed me in Gil'ead. That night, the flower took root and matured into a huge rosebush that climbed the wall, forced its way between the blocks of stone in the ceiling, breaking them, and pushed its way out of the dungeon and into the open. It continued to ascend until it touched the moon and stood as a great, twisting tower that promised escape if I could but lift myself off the floor. I tried with every ounce of my remaining strength, but it was beyond me, and when I glanced away, the rosebush vanished…. That was my state of mind when you dreamed of me and I felt your presence hovering over me. Small wonder I disregarded the sensation as another delusion."

She then smiled weakly, regarding Eragon. "And then you came, Eragon. You and Nightmare and Saphira. After hope had deserted me and I was about to be taken to Galbatorix in Urû'baen, a Rider appeared with a living god of magic and bone to rescue me. A Rider and dragon!"
"And Morzan's son. Both of Morzan's sons." Eragon added a little darkly.

"Describe it how you will, it was such an improbable rescue, I occasionally think that I did go mad and that I've imagined everything since."
"Would you have imagined me causing so much trouble by staying behind at Helgrind?" Eragon offered. She paused.
"No. I suppose not."

She dried her eyes with her sleeve. "When I awoke in Farthen Dûr, there was too much that needed doing for me to dwell on the past. But events of late have been dark and bloody, and increasingly I have found myself remembering that which I should not. It makes me grim and out of sorts, without patience for the ordinary delays of life."

She moved to a kneel and placed both her hands on either side of herself.
"You say I walk alone. Elves do not incline toward the open displays of friendship humans and dwarves favor, and I have ever been of a solitary disposition. But if you had known me before Gil'ead, if you had known me as I was, you would not have considered me so aloof. Then I could sing and dance and not feel threatened by a sense of impending doom."

Eragon reached to her, resting his right hand on her left. "The stories about the heroes of old never mention that this is the price you pay when you grapple with the beasts of the dark and the demons of the mind. Keep thinking about the gardens of Tialdarí Hall, and I'm sure you will be fine."

She allowed him to hold her hand for nearly a minute before moving away. Abyss shuddered and turned away as Eragon moved a few meters off and searched for something in the dirt as Bird fumbled with his makeshift arrows again, glancing up at the others occasionally.

It was when Eragon started singing that Bird and Abyss looked up, peering at his back as he hunched over something, singing to himself. Abyss shivered again and seemed to stare through the Rider with wide, circular eyelights as the human sang.
Arya just let him be, staring into the sky.

After a minute or so, Abyss stood up and walked out of the firelight, climbing to the peak of a nearby hill and taking off, flying into the night sky. Bird rose to his feet as well, initially concerned as he watched the strange, confused god fade into the dark and stars. Then he sat back down, shrugging.

Soon enough, Eragon stopped singing and turned around, handing Arya a pale blue flower shaped like a bell. "It's not a white rose, but…" He shrugged, smiling to himself.
"You should not have." The elf smiled as she took it gently by the underside. "But I am glad you did." She raised it up and gave it a whiff, her face easing up as she did so.

After a few minutes, she scooped some soil out beside herself and planted the lily, flattening the earth with the back of her hand. She touched it's petals before regarding Eragon softly. "Thank you. Giving flowers is a custom both our races share, but we elves attach greater importance to the practice than do humans. It signifies all that is good: life, beauty, rebirth, friendship, and more. I explain so you understand how much this means to me. You did not know, but-"
"I knew."

She paused, gazing at him curiously before she looked away. "Forgive me. That is twice now I have forgotten the extent of your education. I shall not make the mistake again. Elrun ono."
Switching to the ancient language himself, Eragon replied with how it was his pleasure and he was happy she enjoyed his gift so much. Bird just quietly scooted away, awkward at being there and having nothing to do with their conversation.

Arya merely took note of Eragon's shivering and spoke.
"You used too much of your strength. If you have any energy left in Aren, use it to steady yourself."
Eragon glanced at the ring on his finger before replying.
"I don't know if there is any energy in Aren. I've never stored any there myself, and I never checked if Brom had."

In the moment of silence, his eyes went wide, a short and pale figure appearing behind him and moving to the side, revealing to be Abyss as he sat beside Endogeny, staring at the sapphire upon the ring with an eerie intensity. The human eventually leaned back and laughed, unaware of the strange gaze as Bird focused on Abyss, Rider speaking.
"Brom must have squirrelled away every bit of energy he could spare the whole time he was hiding in Carvahall."

He laughed once more, peering at his ring. "All those years… With what's in Aren, I could tear apart an entire castle with a single spell."

"He knew he would need it to keep the new Rider safe when Saphira hatched. Also, I am sure Aren was a way for him to protect himself if he had to fight a Shade or some other similarly powerful opponent. It was not by accident that he managed to frustrate his enemies for the better part of a century…. If I were you, I would save the energy he left you for your hour of greatest need, and I would add to it whenever I could. It is an incredibly valuable resource. You should not squander it."
They went silent, contemplating this.

"...He definitely is someone that's hard to get rid of, it looks like." Abyss observed quietly, staring at the gem with a perplexed expression. Eragon sighed. "I've no doubt he was. I wish he had been able to stay alive just a little longer."

Abyss made to respond, then hesitated. He quieted, never taking his eyelights off the sapphire as Eragon glanced at him curiously.

In the silence, the fire crackled, sending sparks into the air. Bird fluttered his wingtips, feathers rustling as he drew his left wing over and started preening the feathers, sighing.

"Arya." Eragon broke the peace.
"Do male dragons grow any faster than female dragons?"
"No. Why do you ask?"
"Because of Thorn. He's only a few months old, and yet he's already nearly as big as Saphira. I don't understand it."

The elf picked up a dry blade of grass and started writing in the sandy earth in elven script.
"Most likely Galbatorix accelerated his growth so Thorn would be large enough to hold his own with Saphira."

"Ah…. Isn't that dangerous, though? Oromis told me that if he used magic to give me the strength, speed, endurance, and other skills I needed, I would not understand my new abilities as well as if I had gained them the ordinary way: by hard work. He was right too. Even now, the changes the dragons made to my body during the Agaetí Blödhren still sometimes catch me by surprise."

Arya nodded, not looking up from her glyphs as she wrote. "It is possible to reduce the undesirable side effects by certain spells, but it is a long and arduous process. If you wish to achieve true mastery of your body, it is still best to do so through normal means. The transformation Galbatorix has forced upon Thorn must be incredibly confusing for him. Thorn now has the body of a nearly grown dragon, and yet his mind is still that of a youngling."

Rubbing the unusually large callouses he'd given his hands, Eragon prompted another question.
"Do you also know why Murtagh is so powerful… more powerful than I am?"

"If I did, no doubt I would also understand how Galbatorix has managed to increase his own strength to such unnatural heights, but alas, I do not."

There was nothing but the crackling flames, dry grass against the dirt, and feathers rustling softly for a couple minutes. Then Arya finished her absentminded writing. Eragon bent over and read it aloud, translating to english.

"Adrift upon the sea of time, the lonely god wanders from shore to distant shore, upholding the laws of the stars above." He glanced at Arya. "What does it mean?"
"I don't know." She admitted, sweeping the poetry away.

The Rider changed subjects, choosing his words carefully. "Why is it that no one ever refers to the dragons of the Forsworn by name? We say Morzan's dragon or Kialandí's dragon, but we never actually name the dragon. Surely they were as important as their Riders! I don't even remember seeing their names in the scrolls Oromis gave me… although they must have been there…. Yes, I'm certain they were, but for some reason, they don't stick in my head. Isn't that strange?" He paused, only long enough for Arya to open her mouth before continuing.

"For once I'm glad Saphira's not here. I'm ashamed I haven't noticed this before. Even you Arya, and Oromis and every other elf I've met refuse to call them by name, as if they were dumb animals, undeserving of the honor. Do you do it on purpose? Or is it because they were your enemies?"

"Did none of your lessons speak of this?" Arya finally questioned in surprise. Eragon hesitated.

"I think.. Glaedr mentioned something about it to Saphira, but I'm not exactly sure. I was in the middle of a backbend during the dance of snake and crane, so I wasn't really paying attention to what Saphira was doing." He chuckled, embarrassed.

"It got confusing at times. Oromis would be talking to me while I was listening to Saphira's thoughts while she, Draco, GB and Glaedr communicated with their minds. What's worse, Glaedr rarely uses a recognizable language with Saphira; he tends to use images, smells, and feelings, rather than words. Instead of names, he sends impressions of the people and objects he means."

"Do you recall nothing of what he said?" Arya asked.
Eragon paused, thinking.
"Only that it concerned a name that was no name, or some such. I couldn't make heads or tails out of it."

"What he spoke of was Du Namar Aurboda, the Banishing of the Names."