Chapter Text
«Are you tired, Galbatorix-vodhr?»
«There is no need to worry about me, Oromis-elda. I can go on.»
The elf tried to keep his eyes as soft as he could while he waited for the human to reach him on top of the steep hill. He couldn't bring himself to smile, but still he nodded and lifted a hand to touch him between the shoulder blades, gently sustaining the human as he took the last steps to overcome the altitude difference in the ground.
He had tried to offer him his arm a few hours prior, when he had seen him panting and stumbling, but Galbatorix had went out of his way to avoid being touched and had ended up tripping over his own feet and falling into the tall grass. Oromis had kept silently offering his help as he observed the human trying to get up trice and his legs failing to sustain him trice before deciding that there was a limit to the stubbornness he was willing to tolerate; so, had grabbed him by the elbows, and firmly guided him to a rock he could take a break on.
He had quickly learned that Galbatorix would rather die than admit he needed help. Even now Oromis could feel him tense under his touch. He ignored his discomfort and kept his hand on the young man's back a couple of seconds more as they kept walking across the forest.
«It will not be long, I promise.»
It would have been faster if Glaedr had carried them. But Glaedr seemed to provoke a strange, unpleasant reaction from Galbatorix that nor elf nor dragon could quite understand yet – painful memories? helplessness? hate? – so they had decided that there would have been no flights that day. No shortcuts, no matter how much needed they were. The days of flight from Ilirea to Ellesméra had already been unpleasant enough for them all.
…And speaking of unpleasantries…
Morzan again? Glaedr's vaguely amused voice rumbled in his mind.
Oromis pressed his lips together, feeling the now familiar pressure build up in the back of his mind. Morzan again, he confirmed with a mental sigh.
Through their bond, he felt the dragon chuckle. When will that hatchling give up...
Probably when our other hatchling stops plying him with questions he cannot answer to.
Will the tiny one survive this?
…Will I survive this when I see Morzan again? Oromis mused grimly.
The pressure got stronger and stronger as his wards consumed energy to stop the insisting scrying spell. He was seriously starting to regret teaching it to his disciple. He was almost sure that, somewhere in Ilirea, Morzan was giving free rein to his vast arsenal of swear words as he tried in vain to contact him for the tenth day in a row.
He pressed his lips together. Morzan. Brom. Krovogon. Saphira. Kelda and Ofan who had accepted to keep an eye on them for what was supposed to be a few days at most and had instead turned into almost two weeks of silence. There were certainly a lot of creatures he owed an apology to, and an explanation as well – but he really didn't have one, not even for himself. Oromis never liked empty words. Until he had a real answer for them, his silence would have to be the answer.
Still, he couldn't help but feel relief when Morzan's spell finally lost intensity and the assault on his wards ceased. Not for the cease of the assault itself, but because it was easy to push aside once more the thought of having basically abandoned his disciples and his duty as a teacher on the other side of Alagaёsia like this. It was not for long anyway, he repeated himself, and there was nothing he could do about it at the moment.
It will teach them patience.
Oromis raised an eyebrow. Are you mocking me, Glaedr?
Glaedr just laughed in his mind.
Oromis somehow managed to crack the shadow of a smile, the closest thing to an expression of happiness he managed to portray since he left Ilirea.
On his right, Galbatorix was starting to fall behind once more. Oromis was actually surprised that he had managed to travel the whole day with almost no breaks, considering the sorry state he was in just a couple of weeks prior.
«It will not be long, Galbatorix-vodhr,» he repeated.
«There is no need to worry about me, Oromis-elda. I can go on.»
Oromis frowned. It was the third time in a row he received that very same answer. And probably the seventh or eighth time that day. Was it normal? Was this how Galbatorix had always behaved, or was it a sort of mask the young human was trying to put back on, after having let slip too much in front of him? Was he repeating the very same words over and over because he was afraid of saying too much again? Knowing how Galbatorix was before the expedition in the Spine would have been of great help for sure. Now Oromis regretted not talking to Barsmid when he had the occasion.
When each step you take is a mistake, perhaps it is because you choose the wrong path.
Glaedr slapped his thought away, his irritation burning through their minds. The only real mistake you can make is to go on with this mood, he growled. Scry Barsmid if you want. Scry Morzan and Brom. Scry whoever you want. Just drop this brooding mood you are in, because I remind you that this was your idea. You were the one to propose it. You were the one to talk Vrael into it. You had dozens of occasions to renege, and yet you didn't. Now it is too late to doubt your own decision. And if you, you who proposed it, are not convinced of what you are doing then you are fooling not only with yourself, Galbatorix and me, but with Vrael, Umaroth and our disciples as well.
I am aware of it.
You sure don't act like you are! the dragon pointed out, but then his thoughts softened. I will always sustain you in every way I can, you know. But I cannot have the sweetness of your heart more than you can have the sharpness of my talons. I cannot fight this battle for you, only you can. But if you yourself don't believe that this battle can be won, then who should believe it? Galbatorix? What is even the point of fighting a battle that you believe to be already lost? You are no fool, Oromis. Do you believe this battle to be lost?
Did he believe this battle to be lost? Did he believe Galbatorix to be lost? If he had the answers to these questions, surely, he wouldn't have so many doubts about this whole situation.
Oromis remembered Galbatorix's mad eyes as he stood in front of the Council of the Elders. His unreasonable, aberrant request concealed behind humble words and sweet prayers, shielded by the glorification of his talent that protected him like a magical ward.
He was the most promising of the new generation, he had been reminded the day Vrael had called the Council to reunite. The most talented. The strongest, the keenest, the most skilled with words and magic and weapons. To his ears, it had sounded as they were trying to shield Galbatorix with his own talent, to excuse him in advance from something wrong he was about to do. Oromis had not liked the tone of those sentences. It was the same tone that had been used to describe Galbatorix in the past years, and he had not liked it since the very first time.
Oromis had already heard of him, of course, before that day. The human child who surpassed both elves and trained Riders. The prodigy. Barsmid had never made a mystery of her pride for her disciple, the disciple who had been separated from his companions because of his unreachable talent. The disciple who was already muttered of as destined to equal the glory of Vrael.
Oromis had always listened to these words, but had kept his lips pressed together and his thoughts for himself and Glaedr alone. It had always felt wrong, to keep a child in such high regard. Unhealthy. Dangerous. Children – human children specially – were malleable creatures. Easily influenced. It was easy to turn humbleness and talent into arrogance and abuse of power, using the best intentions but the wrong method. Perhaps Barsmid was too inexperienced as a teacher to be entrusted with such a peculiar disciple. Talented Riders were easy to train, but difficult to handle. Barsmid was one of the greatest spellcasters of the Order, and one of the most talented Riders and greatest swordfighters, but she was not an expert teacher. Teaching was more than knowing. Perhaps, Oromis sometimes had thought, listening to those discourses, she had not been the best choice for such a peculiar student.
But the years were passing and Galbatorix was growing up and the praises were always there and always positive, so maybe... Maybe...
«They are not coming back. It has been a week and they are not back yet. Barsmid is asking to send a search team for them.»
Oromis had closed his eyes and had taken a deep breath as an unpleasant sensation started nesting in his chest. Galbatorix and Jarnunvösk. The prodigies. With two other pairs of dragons and Riders. Lost in the Spine.
«…Why were they in the Spine?» he had asked, hoping, begging to hear that his sensation was wrong and that his colleague would say something about a drill gone wrong and a tragedy caused by the circumstances.
But his interlocutor had simply shaken his head.
Oromis had pressed his lips together to fight back a sigh of dismay.
It was very, very easy to ruin a young talented Rider using the best intentions but the wrong method…
«Are there news about the Riders and dragons lost in the Spine?».
«The search team found their remains. It was the Urgals. Only Galbatorix's body has yet to be found, apparently.»
Only Galbatorix's body… Only Galbatorix's body…
«Jarnunvösk…?».
«Her remains were close to those of her friends».
In that moment, Oromis had not known what was the best to hope for. For Galbatorix to be alive, or for Galbatorix to be dead.
«…in the outer edge of the Spine. A human farmer found him half-death and recognized the gedwëy ignasia on his palm. He was trying to come back to us. He survived. Can you believe it, Oromis-elda? He got ambushed by the Urgals, badly wounded, lost the other half of his soul and still had the strength to cross the Spine and survive. Can you believe it?»
Oromis had preferred not to answer. Weeks alone after the death of his soul-bonded partner, fighting for survival in one of the most savage places of Alagaёsia, plagued by starvation and infected wounds and the worse mental pain imaginable. Could someone actually return from such a nightmare?
«And Vrael-elda has deemed appropriate to asset to such a request?».
«Barsmid-elda interceded for him».
This time Oromis had not even tried to stop his sigh.
…No, he had not liked that story since its very beginning. Maybe that was the reason why he had been more cautious than the others. More attentive to spot the cracks in Galbatorix's mask.
With his mind fixed on finding whether there was really something darker hidden behind his honeyed words, it had not been difficult to see through the young man's wards of glorification.
His eyes were empty. Black emotionless abysses that were trying to not reflect the demons that hunted his broken soul. His words were calm and measured. Too elegant and composed for someone who had just lost the partner of his soul, the other half of his mind. His reason to live.
Galbatorix was asking for another reason to live, that day. Another dragon to bond with.
Oromis had come to the Council looking for and expecting a sign of imbalance, but the madness of that request had sent a cold shiver down his spine.
Another dragon to bond with.
Another Jarnunvösk to ease the maddening pain of his soul. To be whole again.
How much of his mind had been damaged, twisted by the pain in those horrible weeks he had spent wandering in the Spine, wounded and alone, without anyone to help him hold himself together? What kind of foolish ideas had he started harboring to withstand the agony of having lost his beloved Jarnunvosk? Of what sort of lies had he convinced himself of?
Another dragon to bond with.
Replace the other half of his soul.
There was a reason if Riders who lost their dragons didn't bond again. The bond between a dragon and the chosen Rider was irreplaceable, incomparable. To think to replace that bond, to think to substitute that bond with another was pure madness.
Galbatorix had not realized the weight of what he had asked.
Oromis had to put a firm stop to the very idea of playing along with his madness.
«Liar! You are all liars! You are not taking this choice for my own good! You do not wish me good, Oromis-elda! You wish me nothing but suffering! You decided that I am unworthy of being a Rider by knowing nothing but my name! You refuse me the very possibility of having another chance!»
Many Elders had gasped and muttered words of outrage at such explosion of anger – many Elders who never had a wild tempered human disciple to keep at bay, many Elders who were unused to the strength of human's emotions. Oromis had had many years to get accustomed to the raw storm of the human mind, many years to grow enough knowledge and acceptance of that race to not get scandalized, now.
When he had answered, his tone had been gentle but firm. «Your mind is damaged, Galbatorix-vodhr. What you are asking for is madness and abomination, but the wounds of your soul prevent you from seeing the truth. I am not devoid of compassion, Galbatorix-vodhr, you have my absolute sympathy, and I do not wish you any more pain. But you will find no happiness nor relief in the path you wish to take, that much I can assure you.»
«This is up to me to decide! You don't–»
«This is up to us to evaluate, this why we are here today» he had interrupted him, firmly. «As it is up to us to ensure your wellbeing and–»
«LIAR! You don't care for my wellbeing! You don't want to help me! You don't want me to succeed! You refuse me even the possibility of proving that I am able to keep being a Rider! Because you don't want me to prove you wrong! Liar! Coward!»
Maybe trying to reason with him was pointless. Maybe he was already beyond saving.
…But there were tears in his eyes, Oromis had noticed. He was shaking with nerves. Screaming like a caged animal, panicked and helpless. Alone against the whole Council. For some reason, in that moment, as Vrael was about get up and take him at his word, and punish him for his aberrant behavior, Oromis had found himself thinking that Galbatorix was nineteen. Barely an adult even by the years of his short-lived race. A mere child by the standards of the Riders.
A child broken by the most horrible pain.
He had been right again. Maybe they had brought him back home, but Galbatorix had never really returned from the Spine. There are nightmares you don't wake up from. Nightmares that turn your mind against itself. Maybe they had arrived too late.
There had been too many mistakes with this human, since the very beginning, and maybe it was too late, now, after everything that had happened.
...But Galbatorix was nineteen.
Oromis had never been the kind of elf to make rush decisions, but that day he had spoken without thinking.
«On the contrary, Galbatorix-vodhr. I would be glad to be proven wrong. And I would indeed be glad to offer you my help, if you were ready and willing to accept it».
Oromis stopped walking with the excuse of observing a butterfly on a flower to give the young human time to reach him.
…Did he believe Galbatorix to be lost? The reason why he was in that situation was because, that day, for a moment, he had believed that Galbatorix was not lost. But it had been only that. A moment. A rushed choice he had taken guided by his emotions. He hoped he had made the right choice trusting his heart over his mind, for once.
The butterfly took flight and passed right in front of his face, spiraling toward the foliage of the trees, toward the red sunset. When she disappeared in the sky, Oromis closed the eyes and took a deep breath.
Galbatorix stopped a step behind him. Oromis could hear his labored breathing, the soft sound of his clothes as he moved, probably to wipe the sweat off his face.
After a long moment he turned to him. «Come,» he said, guiding the human across the last line of trees. Soon, the trees gave way to a large clearing close to the side of a cliff and a low hut, grown between four trunks. «Here we are, Galbatorix-vodhr. Welcome to my home. These are the Crags of Tel’naeìr, where I live when I have no disciples to teach in Ilirea. This is where you will be living as well, at least for the time being. It is an amazing place to find peace of mind, away from chaos and distractions. I hope you will learn to enjoy this place and the peace it brings as much as I do.»
I hope you will prove my fears wrong, Galbatorix-vodhr. I really hope you will prove that you are not lost.