Time Period: Approximately 15.7 years prior to Eragon and 16.7 years prior to Destiny

Location: The Spine, Alagaësia

Characters: Brom, Liress, Murtagh

~ Mentioned Characters: Selena, Morzan, Galbatorix, Belinda, Beloth, Jeod, Hefring, Saphira I, Saphira (as an egg)

A/N: The answer to the last trivia question was: Analísia, originating from the name of a famous elven poet mentioned in Eldest. Guess Leafë is a fan of elvish poetry! I know it's been quite a while since I've written a chronicle that doesn't pertain to Breoal, so I decided to offer you guys this short little piece. WARNING - this is a spoiler for Destiny readers if you have yet to read the first chapter of the second volume. Hope you guys enjoy it!

Story:

Brom was glad it was raining today. If the weather had been bright and sunny, then he wouldn't have been able to attend her funeral. The dark overcast and sluicing raindrops created a downpour that made all the attendees unrecognizable. Still, he kept his hat angled down to shield his face as the bearers began lowering the coffin to the ground.

A fresh grave lay beside it, and opposing emotions dueled within him: vengeful glee that his most hated enemy was now buried in the ground where he belonged, and a deep seated pain that the woman who'd captured the last piece of his heart now lay beside him. She'd only just died hours before he'd arrived, and if he had made it sooner he no doubt could have healed her of whatever malady had befallen her.

But there was no sense in dwelling on the what-ifs; Saphira's death had taught him that. There was no direction for Brom to take save to go forwards, even without his beloved by his side. The words from the witch's fortune rang in his mind once again. It seemed that Angela was right - he was cursed to fail at every task save for the one he'd just accomplished.

He let the satisfaction at seeing Morzan's grave shield him from the interminable pain of Selena's death. Saphira's murderer was in the ground where he belonged. But now that he'd lived to avenge his dragon's death, and with Selena gone as well...what else was there for him to do?

Remembering the words of the healers, Brom wondered if his suspicions could be proven; for if they were true, then he would have a purpose once more, and it would be even greater than the one he'd just served. One that - no matter what his fate had foretold - he would not fail.

Still, he had to find out the truth. Turning his gaze to an attendee that sat in the very front, his blue eyes followed the figure as they rose to make their departure. He inhaled sharply as he recognized the bawling child they carried: Murtagh. A surge of anger rose in him for a moment; if Selena had not loved her son so, she would have come with him back to the Varden. She would have been alive.

Murtagh wailed even louder, and Brom was ashamed of his nasty thoughts. The boy had just become an orphan, and he was the last piece of Selena left in the world. There was no blame to be placed upon the innocent young child who had indeed done the hardened Rider a favor. His presence ensured that the figure who he continued to trail was indeed who he'd believed: Lady Liress Elianasdóttir, the enchantress who - if rumors still held some truth - was to become Galbatorix's Black Hand.

Fury surged through him once more, though this time its target was more suitable. His old compatriot Beloth had kept him well informed on the woman who was rumored to be Galbatorix's paramour. Indeed, without the craftsman's knowledge of the two's whereabouts and Jeod's map, there would have been no chance at all of even reaching the dragon eggs. Of course, things didn't work out as well when Hefring went off his rocker and made off with just a single egg himself. While he did suppose the thief had chosen the best of the bunch (blue was much prettier than brown or red), the wrench that had been thrown into their plans caused him and Jeod quite a chase.

Though it all ended up with Morzan dead and buried, Brom admitted to himself with a twisted sort of smile. So guess it all worked out in the end.

Save for Selena, a soft feminine voice whispered back, and he shook his head to clear it. This was no time to be getting lost in the past and hearing voices that weren't there anymore. He had to think of a plan to coax Liress into revealing any hints as to Selena's supposed condition without giving away his true identity; once that was accomplished, he could make sure that the legacy of the Black Hand died with his love.

However, the unexpected presence of Murtagh did cause some disarray. Liress was no doubt taking him off to Urû'baen to live under the king's wing now that both his parents were dead. The crazy urge to somehow find a way to save the child was soon put aside. There was no where to take him, and Galbatorix would only double the manhunt if the boy was missing alongside the enchantress. Despite his reasoning, Brom still felt a wave of guilt slam him at the disappointment Selena would no doubt have if she was here.

But she wasn't, and without her, he was just a lonely old man with a job to ensure...a job that might lead to him protecting her son after all. No, no, don't get your hopes up, he thought to himself as he stealthily trailed the enchantress through the town that had sprung up on the outskirts of Morzan's estate. Keep your head about you. Find out if your suspicions are correct, eliminate the Black Hand, and move onwards from there. Forget about the boy; there is nothing to be done for him.

Oh, how you have changed since the days we flew together, partner-of-my-mind-and-heart.

Keep your head about you, he repeated the mantra, determined not to respond to a voice he knew was no longer there. His sharp gaze followed Liress from afar as she entered a lavishly expensive inn. Luckily, he had the coin to follow her inside. Still, Brom winced as he entered the door a few minutes later, feeling the money he was about to spend could be put to better use - unless he turned out to be right.

He'd throw away all the money he had if only he could be right.

The smell of incense reached his nose, but it could not shroud the scent of lye and sweat completely. Well, better to inhale lye than the putrid stuff it cleaned. Removing his hat, he ran a hand through his slightly graying ash blonde hair. Then simply removing several of his wrinkles, and his face looked like it had sixty years ago. He walked over to where the innkeeper sat, tending to the books.

"Name?" the portly man asked in a bored tone.

"Holcomb Oftsson." Using his father's name lessened the chance of him forgetting to respond to it; that was the only reason he did so. No sentimentality involved at all.

Scribbling down the name with his quill, the innkeeper glanced up at him with watery green eyes as bored as his voice was. "And what size room would you like?"

"Smallest you have." He'd spend as little as he possibly could without arousing suspicion, and asking for the smallest room when he was unaccompanied was not suspicious at all.

"We have one available on the top floor and the bottom."

"I'll take the bottom, please," Brom said politely. Easier to escape from, after all.

"And how many nights will you be staying?"

He hesitated before reluctantly answering, "Two." It would be suspicious if he came to an inn like this only to stay one night along with asking for the smallest room, after all. He was starting to hate that damn enchantress for draining his pockets like this. Of course, he could always pick hers once she was dead.

"That'll be six gold coins, then," the man sighed as he finished jotting down his information. "Three meals a day for free, and five drinks a day. Anything extra and you'll have to pay regular price. Chamber pots are emptied each night at sundown, and there's several outhouses out back if yours gets filled before then. Did you bring a horse?"

"No sir." Brom coughed up the gold without shedding a tear, though he might have sniffled once. The innkeeper handed him the key to his room, and he decided to head there first and rest until he had the opportunity to put his plan into action. Liress was no doubt putting Murtagh to bed before she could grab a drink at the bar; Selena had mentioned to him her weakness for nice wine when he'd first began getting to know her as a gardener. She had always mentioned the blonde with a mixture of fondness, concern, and fear in her voice when she had spoke of her, which was not very often. And now, he was about to employ the plan he'd prepared to use on Selena on Liress.

The irony did not amuse the Rider.

Falling onto the mattress, he mused that it might have been a little bit worth the cost to be able to sleep on clean sheets and know he wouldn't wake up with bug bites the next morning - that is, if he'd been planning to stay till then. The enchantress would be heading off as soon as she could since the speed with which she could travel would be drastically slowed by the boy, so he would have to put his plan into effect this night.

But first, Brom would rest.

Liress took a sip of from her wine goblet and glanced around the room with something akin to a sigh. She'd left Murtagh sleeping in their room; the poor boy had cried himself to sleep. Seeing the grief in his gray eyes so like Selena's only amplified her own, so she'd been powerless to soothe him. Selena had been the one with the motherly touch, not her. And how she had envied the other woman for having the family she always wanted with her beloved king. But now she wondered if that happy family had been not but an illusion. Either way, there was no use being jealous over a corpse.

Even when the blonde tried to put it in those detached terms, remembering still hurt.

This time she took a long draught of her wine as a man approached the bar. He had thick blond hair that was grayer than hers and nice blue eyes dimmer than her sister's had been...until she'd locked Belinda away, that is. Though his nose is a bit long for his face, she took in analytically, eyeing him over the rim of her goblet as he took the seat beside her. The bar wasn't that crowded, so she knew he wished to speak with her. However, Liress was not such an easy catch. And with her wavy golden hair, sultry red lips, high cheekbones, and hypnotizing hazelnut eyes, she didn't have to be.

Thus she ignored him neatly, her eyes roving over him with disinterest as she sipped her wine. Save for the nose, he wasn't such a bad looking fellow - not handsome, but definitely cute. And quite possibly the perfect distraction from the feeling of despair that still stirred within her. So when he greeted her in a rough cadence that sent delicious shivers done her spine (though that may have had more to do with this sixth cup of wine rather than the scratchy baritone that promised all sorts of things), she shot him a slow smile and said, "Hello to you, stranger. What brings you around these parts?"

"Had a funeral to attend," the man said, his tone growing slightly more somber. "And you?"

Suddenly, he didn't seem quite the distraction Liress had been hoping for. "The same."

Her tone was short, intended to end the conversation, but the idiot just ignored it and forged on ahead. "Well isn't this a coincidence. Seems like there's too much death in the world."

Grunting rather than gifting him with an actual response, she drained her goblet and signaled the bartender for another one. He casually came forth and said, "Running up quite a tab there, milady."

"I know." The bartender was obviously not as much of an idiot as the stranger, for he recognized her tone and quickly refilled her goblet without another word. The blonde took another long sip, frowning when she realized the man was watching her. "What?"

"Who are you trying to forget losing?"

The question jarred her from the nice buzz she'd developed, and she suddenly wished she'd kept on ignoring him. Still, the wine had loosened her lips enough for her to reply, "My best friend."

A look flashed across the stranger's face - surprise? - before he turned his gaze away. Liress blissfully hoped that meant he was done talking, but sighed inwardly as he spoke...that is, until she heard the actual words. "I lost the love of my life."

His voice had gone hoarse, but this time it was from pain. She blinked, a well of sympathy rising for the man, and suddenly her hand was on his clenched fist. It smoothed out underneath her touch as she found herself asking, "Do you want to forget losing her?"

Blue eyes rose to peer into hers, and she was surprised by their depths. Though the man looked to barely be in his third decade, there was something older in his eyes - older and infinitely sadder. He turned his hand so that his fingers slid into hers, and he didn't look away as he whispered, "Yes. If only for moment, yes."

He rose to his feet, and with a gentle tug drew her up as well. The blonde left the goblet behind as he lead her through the semi-crowded barroom, noting absentmindedly that they skipped the stairwell that lead to her room on the top floor. She was about to tell him as much when she realized she could hardly bring him up with Murtagh sleeping there. Her vision was not quite hazy but not quite clear, and the buzz was back, growing louder as anticipation raced through her veins.

The blue-eyed stranger lead her into a room, and she was startled by the giggle that escape her mouth as he gently closed the door behind him. He stared at her with one bushy eyebrow raised, but that only made her chuckle harder. "What's so funny?"

"This." Liress gestured around the room. "You and me, being here, trying to forget the people we lost...if only for a night. It's funny."

"Seems more like it's sad to me," he answered, playing with the fingers he still held in his.

"No, funny," she protested just a bit childishly. "It's a funny coincidence."

"Maybe you've had a bit too much to drink," the man mused, letting go of her hand.

"Such a gentleman," the blonde giggled, grabbing both of his wrists as she walked backwards towards the four-poster bed. "I'm not drunk, if that's what you're worried about. Just a little tipsy."

He hummed, catching her round the waist and hauling her close so that his mouth brushed against hers. She gasped, and his tongue found its way inside to wrap around her own, leaving her quite breathless when he withdrew. The man sure knew how to kiss, which reminded her: "I don't even know your name."

"I guess you aren't that drunk." With his nose, his smile was rakish, and she suddenly realized its appeal. "I'm Holcomb. Holcomb Oftsson. And you are...?"

"Liress. Liress Elianasdóttir." The name would hold no meaning to him; indeed, it held little meaning to anyone, though that would no doubt change once she returned to Urû'baen.

Holcomb lowered her to the mattress, and all thoughts of becoming the next Black Hand were swept away by his lips sweeping across her jaw. "Nice to meet you, Mistress Liress."

Her name was a caress against her skin, and Liress arched into his touch, threading her fingers through his gray-blond hair as she purred, "A pleasure, Mister Holcomb."

And those were the last words spoken by either of them for a long while.

Staring down at the lightly snoring blonde beside him, Brom wondered what he was supposed to do next. It was now painstakingly clear that he could not go through with his original murderous plot; Selena would no doubt come back to haunt him alongside his dragon. Indeed, he wondered what she would think of him now. Fresh from the funeral and already on to the next bed.

Covering his watering eyes, he tried to forget, but that proved impossible as a sinuous arm snaked its way around his chest. "You're still up?"

"Couldn't sleep."

He felt her rise to lean above him but did not remove his arm. "Why?"

Silence, and then came the faintly murmured, "...because of the guilt."

"There's nothing to be guilty of." Liress's eyes were flashing when he finally looked at her, though he wasn't sure if it was from pain or pride. "The dead can never return, so it's no use mourning over them."

"So then why were you crying in your sleep?" he shot back.

Surprised, she brushed her cheeks with trembling fingers and felt the salty streaks that remained. "I - I - "

Dammit all. Brom wrapped a hand around her golden head and pulled it to his shoulder so that she could weep in peace. This vulnerable young woman before him was really to be the next Black Hand? And in this state, it would be so easy to kill her. To keep Selena's legacy intact.

You cannot do it - that is not the man you are.

I've changed since those days, he finally thought back. I've loved and lost so many times that there's nothing left of me to give. To care.

You are my Rider, Brom. I hatched for you because I know the man you were is the man you still are. There is a reason I named you gentle one, and you could not have forgotten that, for you have not forgotten me.

I could never forget you, Saphira.

But she did not answer, and Liress's quiet sobs gave way to gentle snores once more. Brom held his love's best friend close and wept for Selena as well. He knew she would understand that the comfort they had found in each other's embrace, while an attempt to forget her, was truly a remembrance. His eyelids slid shut, and he saw her gray irises twinkle down at him from amidst the stars.

When his eyelids opened, the blonde was gone, and there was a simple note left behind:

To the love of her life:

I heard you call out her name as you slept, and it was the name of my best friend. My suspicions were aroused, but put aside once I realized that you must have been the reason for the growing happiness she had. She did not tell me, and I understand why she did not. I do not wish to understand why you approached me at the bar, as I do not wish to face the consequences of what the truth may reveal. Thank you for helping me to remember, and in return, I offer you this knowledge: the healers were sure that she showed recent signs of childbirth. Take care of her child, just as I shall take care of her son.

- From her best friend

Liress watched Holcomb kneel down beside Selena's grave. He buried a scrap of paper in the fresh soil below her tombstone, murmured something she could not make out from this distance, and left without another trace.

"Can we go now, Missus Liress?"

She looked down at the toddler's weary face. There was no need to see what he had buried (since she had written it, after all), so she told Murtagh, "Of course."

Lifting him up onto the saddle, the blonde mounted the horse behind him and set off with a flick of the reins. As she had assumed, the journey back to Urû'baen took them longer than it had when she had left alone.

So, by the time they arrived, Liress knew that Murtagh was not the only child she was bringing back with her.