Chapter Text
Others had often pointed out his impatience regarding a lot of things, and tried to rub it under his nose as a weakness. Morzan preferred to view it as an incentive for others to hurry up. Because while he was fine with waiting if the result promised to be rewarding enough, he got bored. If his head wasn’t too full with thoughts, he could easily deal with it by working on spells, reading , flying or dozing in the sun with Cruor, or putting on his good looks and charisma to gain connections that might proof useful later. Where the motivation for others to hurry truly came in, was when his head was screaming at him to do something and he had the strong urge to chew the skin of his fingers. Meaning; when he was stressed. Which he was. And he let others feel that. Gladly. Because he just wanted to finally leave this damn lovely, pretty, idyllic, quaint island. He felt trapped.
And to put the cherry on the shit-cake, he got banned from the training fields too. A fountain statue had lost it’s head for that. He would have preferred if it had been a real person’s head instead. Preferably the one of the swordmaster.
Sadly he couldn’t make anyone hurry up in this situation. He could hardly blame Shruikan for having to grow larger and having his wing set first. Although he did came close a few times. In the previous week he'd gotten rather snappy, so that even Saphira was fed up with him and Oromis suggested to him that he and Cruor should fly to a more remote spot on the island to find some calm or whatever nonsense.
The only ones, besides Cruor, who at the moment were still happy to see him, were Shruikan an Galbatorix. Morzan hadn’t seen them as much in the beginning of their extended stay. Because after one week, Cruor had pinned him to the floor and told him to ‘Stop staring at Galbatorix like he’s the answer to all your problems for a bit and let him and Shruikan form a bond in peace.’ With a mixture of threats and praises from her, he thought he’d managed to follow that piece of unwanted advice quite well. Although when Oromis mentioned that Shruikan looked big enough to carry his rider soon, Morzan was back at Galbatorix’ side in an instant. He’d need a saddle and Morzan knew from recent experience that he was fairly good at making those. So he “borrowed" some more black leather, just as he had for his own and ignored Cruor’s provocative question if human courting gifts weren’t normally supposed to be flowers or jewels.
So now he found himself, in an odd mirror of a situation that felt so long ago already, sitting on the table in the workshop again, working on the final parts on the saddle, with Galbatorix sitting next to him. The man had a lot of talents and Morzan held the deepest respect for him - "Shut up Cruor, I am NOT drooling over him!"- but dragon saddle making was not one of his skills.
Contributing to that, was the fact that the standard shapes had to be readjusted to fit Shruikan’s constantly curled inward arm and his slightly deformed shoulder. At some point he'd simply gotten his bone needle out and took over most of the work, with Galbatorix helping him here and there and otherwise apparently being content to watch him. Cruor had settled down outside a while ago, after coming and going the whole morning, clearly not very interested. Shruikan had watched as much of the saddle making process as he could in between his lessons with Glaedr. He'd just landed again and sat down, neatly curling his tail around him, after greeting Cruor and her rider and getting a short but affectionate scratch to his neck from Galbatorix.
Morzan was testing the tightness of some of the last stitches, when he suddenly felt a gentle tugging sensation on his hair. Galbatorix had leaned slightly backwards to nudge the bone needle he had simply stuck in his bun to have his hands free.
“Is that your own?”
“Been for a while now. Leave it.” he muttered, focused on his work. He rolled his eyes at himself a second later. That pretty much had been asking Galbatorix to pull out the needle. Which he of course did. Morzan frowned at the hair suddenly falling into his face. He ran his hand through the back of it and, coming up empty, turned his attention towards the other.
“Did you pull the band out with it?”
The older shrugged with a faux innocent expression. “Maybe. I like it better when you have your hair open. Although the braid isn’t bad either.” Then he looked down at the needle in his hand in puzzlement. “You put a spell on this?” he flipped it between his fingers.
The taller one quickly snatched it back. “Yes, I did. Which is why…” he laid the needle on the flat of his palm, turning the tip towards the wooden wall “…you really shouldn’t point it at me.” With that, he gave it the tiniest nudge of energy, sending it flying at speed into the wall, where it stuck, trembling slightly.
“Oh? Are we at the stage were you try to impress him with your skills? That’s something I can get, finally. Not like the gift giving from before.”
“Cruor. Again; that’s not what this is.”
“Stop denying it already. You know it. I know it. You know that you and I know it. You’re also very luck because, as I’ve repeatedly said, I approve.”
“Can’t remember ever asking you for approval before.”
“Because I couldn’t care less about what you do with some boring girl for a night. The only stress I have with it is, if they don’t understand what one night means and start to follow you around.”
“They do that?”
“Some have tried.”
“I actually don’t even want to know any details. Thank you, I guess?”
“Anytime. Scaring people is fun. Doesn’t change my point though, Galbatorix is different to you.”
“I don’t need your approval for Galbatorix either, doesn’t matter that he’s different…. Ah. Shit.”
“Thanks for admitting it, you’re really making it too easy sometimes.”
“I could point that needle in your direction you know.”
“Love you too.”
Outside he could see the red dragon's sharp toothed grin glint in the sun. Leaning to the side, he pulled the needle out of the wall with a huff. He turned back, just to see Galbatorix holding up the small band he had pulled from his hair.
“I think you were looking for this?” he smirked.
“So you do have it. Good. Now give it back.” He didn’t really expect the other to hand it over. Carefully, he laid down the bone needle on the table, keeping his eyes on the older rider.
“Giving me orders now, Morzan?” his smirk widened, while his black eyes darkened further.
The sound of dragonwings and a shadow darkening the light from the overhead windows, shortly distracted them. Long enough for Morzan to push the finished saddle away and lunge at Galbatorix, who let out surprised curse, falling off the table, taking the other with him. Morzan, having landed rather comfortably – perfect amount of soft over all that muscle, and those nice... urgh no stop - on top of the other, pushed himself up to make a grab for the band in the other's hand but had to immediately avoid a knee aimed for his stomach.
Further unbalanced by a strong shove to his shoulder, he fell to the side and instantly felt a hand pressing down on his neck and pushing him down to lie flat on his stomach. His one hand was stuck under him, while the other had been pulled up between his shoulder blades by a firm grip on his wrist. He went very still. If those warm callused fingers on his neck would move even the slightest bit in something that would even faintly resemble a pet, he'd happily give up and stay on the floor for the rest of the day. Luckily – sadly – said fingers didn’t move and he got his wits together enough, to focus on the tan-skinned hand that wasn’t occupied with holding him to the ground. If he’d been concerned about Galbatorix weight loss since he came back, the heaviness now pressing into his lower back erased that worry fully now. He tried to keep his expression neutral, as the other shifted his hand closer to his face to lean down to him.
“Given up already? I expected more from you.” Galbatorix said in mock disappointment. He leaned down a bit further, shifting his hand even closer. Big mistake. Morzan threw his head back to loosen the grip on his neck for just a bit and clamped his teeth around the other’s wrist. Hard enough to leave a mark but not hard enough to draw blood, although the threat was definitely there. He grinned at the man above him, as much as he could in his position. Before one of them could decide on another move, a voice came from the workshop’s entrance.
“Should I come back later, when you two are done with each other?”
Galbatorix pushed himself up, having to tug a few times until Morzan decided to let go of his wrist. He held out his hand and helped the taller rider up, then turned towards Brom, who was standing in the doorway carrying a satchel. On the terrace behind him, Saphira made herself comfortable between the two other dragons. Morzan decided to ignore the looks and mental nudges Cruor was giving him. Galbatorix brushed some dust of his robe with a glint in his eyes.
“Look Lord Morzan, it’s your servant.”
The brunette rolled his eyes “I'm not his servant. Is the saddle done?”
Morzan grinned “Why do you bring food then? And yes, it is. We just got distracted.”
“Yeah, I saw that. Anyway, I brought food because Oromis asked me to. Since you both haven’t shown up to several mealtimes in the past days.”
Galbatorix shrugged “We get our own food.”
With a look to the other’s wrist and corners of his mouth twitching, Brom coughed out a barely audible “Yeah, I saw that too.” Then he walked over to one of the clean worktables and emptied the contents of his bag on it.
While requested to be delivered by Oromis, the food had clearly been chosen by Brom, judging by the random collection of tiny cakes and meat pieces. They ate as much as necessary to get Brom to stop mothering them, which was hurried along by Galbatorix’ increasingly impatient glares.
Eventually they carried out the saddle and Shruikan eagerly crouched down to help as much as he could in putting it on. When every strap sat securely in it’s place, he straightened up again and shook himself hard, to make sure that nothing was too loose. His bright blue eyes almost glowed with excitement. He lowered his head down toward his rider.
“Well? Shall we fly together?”
Standing directly beside him, Morzan heard Galbatorix suck in a breath. He was looking at the ground, face hidden by his hair, so he couldn’t judge his expression. To his surprise Shruikan hummed a short melody of maybe six notes, to which his rider straightened, pulled his gloves on and then effortlessly climbed in the saddle.
“We shouldn’t fly to far out over the sea, there are some heavy winds today. No need for a unnecessary taxing flight.” Saphira spoke up.
Brom looked at her in surprise “We?”
Morzan was already climbing into Cruor’s saddle “Yes, Brom. We. You heard Saphira, get your ass in the saddle.”
The blue dragon gave him a disparaging look “Don’t use my name. We are still not friends anymore.”
“I already apologized.”
“You told me to, and I quote ‘suck it up, blueberry.' "
“Yeah. As I said. I apologized.”
Saphira let out a long sigh, getting an empathetic pat on the neck from Brom, who was muttering under his breath about too tall men with too tall egos behaving like children.
Shruikan and Galbatorix apparently had enough of waiting and with a jump and a few strong flaps of his wings, the black dragon shot up into the air. Cruor and Saphira followed shortly behind with their riders, but left the smaller black dragon enough space so he could test out his maneuverability with the added saddle and weight of his rider. After some twists and turns he let out a happy roar, which was the first time Morzan ever heard the normally so quiet dragon do so. Saphira answered with a cheerful bellow of her own and Cruor breathed out a jet of crimson flames. Putting a hand to her red scales, they let their minds link further, sharing their happiness at watching the black dragon and his rider fly together for the first time.
*-.*-.*-.*-.*-.*-.*-.*-.*-.*-.*-.*-.*-.*-.*-.*-.
Wind rustled through the leafs of the tree he was sitting under. The sun had already started to set, making the shadows slowly grow longer and darker. He’d escaped Ellesmera to get away from all the formal greetings, varying degrees of dislike hidden behind false politeness and the endlessly repeating congratulations to him for becoming a full rider. Over his knees laid his new rider sword, the belt and scabbard resting in the grass next to him.
“If you keep staring at it like that, it might start melting at some point.” Cruor gave the sword another sniff. “I appreciate that you finally have a good metal stick to defend yourself with now. But you could always loose it.”
Morzan ripped his awestruck gaze away from his new sword. His sword. Zar'roc. “What. Should I rather give myself some claws and fangs instead?”
“Claws seem like they could become impractical, you could poke the wrong person at the wrong time. But fangs would look good on you. Better than the other riders with just their sad colorful metal sticks. Can’t believe you even name these things. What do you need it for, I'll squish everyone who'd dare to even think of hurting you.”
“You can’t always be right next to me, as nice as that would be. Any chance that you’re being jealous of a sword?”
Cruor quickly lifted her chin “Whatever would I be jealous about? I mean ,- ah I just remembered; I have some things to do. Very important and can’t be delayed. I'll see you later.”
Morzan watched her quick retreat in confusion, he didn’t sense any upset from her, so it couldn’t be his fault. He got up and fastened the sword belt around his hips again and with another look at Zar'roc, he sheathed the sword. And immediately almost ripped it back out again when a branch broke under someone’s foot, way too close to him.
“Jumpy are we?” Galbatorix walked around the tree, mirth sparking in his eyes.
“All the celebration stuff and everyone just throwing meaningless words at me, has frayed my nerves. What are you sneaking around for?” he crossed his arms, a bit annoyed that he’d been caught of guard.
“Sneaking around lets you hear the best secrets. If you have some nerves left… walk with me?”
“For you? Always. Wherever you like to go.”
Galbatorix gave him a small but warm smile and started walking as soon as Morzan was next to him. The older rider seemed to have a destination in mind but apparently wasn’t in a hurry to reach it. He looked completely relaxed and studying his face, Morzan thought that he looked like a long lost prince from a book he’d read as a kid. He couldn’t really say why, maybe it was the neat black hair together with the sharp nose, thin beard and those serious eyes which looked at everything with a sure authority. He was the only one Morzan ever would consider to stand behind. And make others bow to him in worship. He blinked hard to pull himself back from his thoughts.
“Actually, I’m curious. I haven’t seen you since towards the end of the event yesterday.”
“I hope you didn’t miss me too much?”
Morzan lifted his chin and realized with a bit of horror that he actually had to gather up some courage for his answer “I did. I'd planned to ask you for a dance.”
Galbatorix stumbled over a loose rock and Morzan quickly caught him by the arm.
“Ehm. My apologies then. I had a plan which resulted in a lengthy discussion with the local elven smith and some unexpected work.”
“You voluntarily started an argument with Rhunön? What plan?”
“Let me show you.” Galbatorix smirked and then made to pull his sword, only to still in minute confusion at Morzan’s hand that was still holding onto his arm from his stumble. The rider quickly took his hand back, glad that the darkness would hide his flush that he could feel creeping up his cheeks. He felt a bit pathetic for reacting so strongly and redirected his attention back towards the other, who by now had pulled his rider sword and held the blade out on his hands for him to look at.
Morzan hadn’t seen the blade for a long time after Jarnunvösk’s death and hadn’t wanted to ask about it in case it would just reopen wounds. Thus he had been surprised when he'd seen the sword with the amethyst in it’s pommel at the older rider’s hip on their flight to Ellesmera. But even after not seeing it for so long and under the waning sunlight, he could clearly spot the differences now. The formerly silver handle, cross guard and encasing of the amethyst were now a deep black. Part of the broad blade was similarly black and faded back to the original royal purple towards the hilt, like someone had dipped the sword in smoke. Galbatorix’ sword now carried the colors of both of his dragons.
Morzan carefully touched his fingertips to the two-colored blade. It was too dark already to properly see the sword's name rune, it looked different than he remembered though.
“Oh. It’s really pretty. How did you manage to convince her?”
Galbatorix sheathed the sword and started walking again “I think Shruikan actually did the biggest part, he has the meanest puppy eyes.” He hesitated for a moment, then barely audible, said “I planned to get rid of it at first. I couldn’t look at it and not remember who I could have saved with it, if I had just been a bit faster or stronger.” Morzan was about to protest, but the older rider halted his words with a shake of his head. “Shruikan suggested that I should rename it, give it a second chance so to say. The color changes were Rhunön’s idea, acvording to her she had to change the sword to be able to change it’s name.” He gave a short unhappy laugh “I guess my life is all second chances now.”
Galbatorix stopped walking, apparently having reached his intended destination for them. Morzan had to blink quickly a few times at what he saw. He had paid more attention to his friend than to the way and it was fully dark by now. So it took him a second to register the small hovering lights in between the trees as fireflies. Maybe also because they shimmered in rather different colors than their cousins outside of Du Weldenvarden. A strange feeling welled up in his chest. He suddenly realized how close they stood together. Biting his tongue, he turned towards Galbatorix who looked up at him.
“What…” Morzan's voice gave out and he had to clear his throat. “What if I give you a first chance?”
Galbatorix stepped even closer to him, making the taller rider look down at him. He slowly lifted his hand and cupped Morzan’s jaw, stroking a thumb over his cheek.
“I think I'd take it.” With that, he let his hand slip to the back of the other’s neck, pulling him down into a kiss. The strange feeling in his chest, which Morzan now realized had been there for months and maybe even longer, seemed to flow over and raced like a wave of warmth through his whole body. He pulled Galbatorix closer with one hand on the small of his back, letting the other slide into his soft hair, deepening the kiss.
They separated for air after what could have been hours or just seconds. Wrapped in each others arms. Black eyes fixed on black and blue. Smiling dreamily at each other, simply breathing in the other. Then, suddenly Galbatorix eyes widened with something like realization. Morzan gave him a bemused look, but before he could ask, the shorter rider spoke a short collection of words. And Morzan froze. Slapping him would have been kinder. Kneeing him in the crotch would have been kinder. Even stabbing him in the chest and telling him that the kiss had only been a joke would have been kinder. Because that… that was his name. His true name. It was rather hard to breathe out of sudden, and the sides of his vision seemed to darken. That didn’t matter. Nothing did. Only the fact that he just heard his true name and it was… it was… . Galbatorix had it and all the things that could imply rushed through his brain. He was scared. And he hated being scared so much.
Galbatorix had taken a step back with a worried expression. Liar. He opened his mouth to speak - don't let him speak – and Morzan cut him of before he could get out a single syllable. “Don’t. Talk.” The shorter rider frowned at him in confusion. Through what felt like thick fog, Morzan could feel someone reach out to his mind. He immediately slammed up his barriers and turned his attention back to the other, who looked like he was about to speak again. He took a threatening step towards him, the ground feeling like it was tilting underneath him.
“I said; don’t talk.” he hissed between clenched teeth. “If I hear a single word out of your mouth, I will kill you.” His heart hammered painfully in his chest. He was so scaredangryscaredangry. “Stay away from me. If I ever see you opening your mouth anywhere near me; I WILL kill you.” Or get it over with now, what if he tells it to someone else?
Galbatorix had meanwhile taken another step back, holding out his empty hands, voice trembling faintly “Morzan, listen, I didn’t want to-" He didn’t get any further. The first punch didn’t throw him to the ground. But the second did. And Morzan went after him, letting his fists rain down on the other, to make sure that he would never say that name again. Galbatorix had tried to push him off, but the first two punches had clearly left him dazed and all he could do was try to protect his head with his arms as much as possible. Morzan only barely registered these things.
The next thing that came through to him, were black scales entering his tunnel vision, slamming into him and sending him flying. He tried to get up again, but suddenly there were red scales and something hard pressing him to the ground. Then came the pain of someone breaking through his mental shields. He tried to fight the intruder, until-
“MORZAN!”
Above him stood Cruor, pinning him down underneath her paw. He stared up at her, panting. Slowly his mind cleared. With a rising feeling of horror he turned his head towards where Galbatorix laid. The other man had curled himself up on his side, shoulders shaking with shuddering breaths. Above him stood Shruikan, wings spread protectively and teeth bared. Cruor lifted her eyes from Morzan, apparently speaking to Shruikan. The black dragon eventually gave a huff, then leaned down far enough that he could scoop his rider into the paw of his stiff arm, letting him rest against his chest. With a short look back at Cruor, who gave him a reassuring hum, he pushed of the ground and flew of into the darkness.
The red dragon waited until the sound of his wing beats had grown faint, before she turned back to Morzan and lifted her paw off him. He stayed on the ground.
“What happened? I haven’t seen you like this in years.”
She didn’t even sound angry or judging. Morzan’s eyes started to burn, and he swallowed against the tears. Cruor still lingered just at the fringes of his mind, only enough that they could talk. She wouldn’t look at his memories without getting his permission first.
“Do you want to show me?”
He couldn’t get a word out, so he simply shook his head.
“Tell me?”
He stared at nothing, Cruor simply waiting. Then he managed a “Not here.” He felt too exposed and he was starting to shiver.
“Alright. Up in the saddle with you then.”
They didn’t speak on their flight back to the tree house that had been given to them for the duration of their stay in Ellesmera. Arriving there, Morzan slid off the saddle and Cruor’s back, nearly cutting himself on her sharp scales in the process. His hands hurt, he was freezing despite the mild temperatures and he was breathing shallow to hold back the tears. Cruor watched him from her resting place, licking her claws in thought. Somehow the sound of her rough tongue rasping over her claws and scales calmed him a little.
Standing in front of his wash bowl he took a deep breath and finally looked down at his hands. He had been in enough fights that looking at split skin over his knuckles and cuts from teeth didn’t phase him anymore. Looking at them now, nearly made him throw up. He quickly started washing of the blood, so he could start healing them. In the mirror over the basin he caught Cruor’s dark red eyes. How was he supposed to tell her. He hesitated, his hands slowing their motions. Then, before he could change his mind he simply shoved the memory at her. She accepted his change of mind without a comment.
He knew the exact moment she reached the part with his name. She let out a sharp hissing noise and stared at him with wide eyes.
“So that’s what triggered you then. Why would he work on finding out your true name? That makes no sense.”
Morzan finished the healing spell on his, now trembling, hands. There had been a thought gnawing at him since Galbatorix had said his name. He removed his boots and outer layers and stumbled over to the red dragon, dragging a blanket from his bed after him. She made room under her wing without him having to ask. Only after he was safely tucked in he voiced his doubts.
“Cruor?”
“Yes?”
“Was it really my idea?”
“What do you mean?”
“Getting Galbatorix a new dragon. Was that my idea? Or just something I can’t remember that he ordered me to do? What if nothing in the past weeks has been my decision and I just don’t know? What if those rumors are right?” His shaking got worse.
“Oh. Little flame. He has your name but not mine. I would have realized if someone was commanding you around, trust me. I don’t think that he ever intended anything malicious with it. Why would he have revealed it to you, if it would have served him better to keep it secret.”
“But what if-"
Cruor gave him a gentle nudge. “Listen, don’t become paranoid on me. We'll do the following; we leave early tomorrow morning for Ilirea. And there we will register with the fighters, as planned. In a few years your name will have changed and you can talk to him again without it hanging over you.”
Morzan sniffed. “I never want to see him again.”
“Don’t be dramatic, you have centuries to live. And what you two have is worth fighting for.”
“What, so he can just figure out my new name? No. One time is enough.”
“Do you really mean that?”
Morzan couldn’t answer. Loosing the fight against his tears, he buried his head in his arms, letting them flow, shoulders heaving with his sobs. Cruor curled herself tighter around him, softly humming and keeping her mind pressed to his, trying to take away some of his pain.
*-.*-.*-.*- .*-.*-.*-.*-.*-.*-.*-.*-.
It had been a joke the first time Morzan had gotten Brom an old and completely flattened spoon as a birthday gift. Brom had retaliated by gifting him only a single, too small sock. It had established itself as a kind of tradition between them, but at some point they had agreed to actually gift each other something useful when they’d finally become real riders.
That’s how Morzan found himself knocking on Brom’s door shortly before sunrise. He wanted to leave as early as possible, but he had to get rid of this stupid gift first.
Cruor snorted “Don’t pretend that you didn’t put any effort in it. Even if it’s just to outclass whatever he gives you.”
Morzan knocked again, only to be answered with a muffled “Yes, yes, I’m awake.” He took that as enough of an invite to step in. Brom had been about to put a shirt on but turned around at the sound of the door closing.
“Oh it’s you…uuuu, by the gods what happened to your hair?”
Morzan ran his hand through his hair that, having reached a far bit past his shoulders before, was now short enough that it would take several months before he could even think about braiding it again.
“I cut it.”
“Obviously. I’m wondering why.” He squints at him, studying his face. “Did you cry?”
Behind him Cruor dropped in through the large opening in the wall and roughly cuddled up against Saphira, waking her up.
Brom’s expression turned from confused worry to something that was way too close to pity for Morzan’s taste.
“Did you have a fight with-"
“If you say his name I will stab you.”
“How bad is it? Do I need to eat him? I'd even put our fight to rest for that.” Saphira quipped.
He took a deep breath. “I appreciate the thought, but I’d prefer if you don’t, it would upset poor Shruikan. And I don’t want to talk about it, so don’t ask. I’m just here to give Brom his gift.”
“You’re leaving already?”
Morzan gestured pointedly at his traveling cloak “Yes, so you better have my gift ready too.” He grinned.
“Fine, fine. You go first, because I don’t trust you to not make it a joke at my expense. If it is, I can still keep yours for myself.”
“Let me guess, it’s something you wouldn’t even be able to use?” Morzan dug out a small red bag the size of his palm out of his pocket and tossed it at Brom, who only grumbled at his question.
He hesitated for a second before shrugging and opening the thin cord of the bag. A small mirror with runes on it’s back and a pretty ruby on a thin leather band, fell into his hand.
“Since you like to get yourself in the dumbest situations, I thought you could have a use for an emergency kit so to say.” Morzan held up the exact twin of the small mirror. “These mirrors are linked together and spelled, so that they can get in contact even through protective spells, in case you need me to save your unlucky ass some day.” He pushed his own mirror back into his pocket “As for the ruby, don’t ask me where I got it and don’t ask me where the energy inside of it came from.”
“Thank you. To be honest I’m not quit sure yet if I should feel insulted or grateful, but still; thank you. Truly.” He touched the ruby and his eyes widened instantly.
Morzan grinned. “Remember, don’t ask.”
“I hope I won’t regret that" Brom muttered, laying the bag with it’s former contents on a sideboard. Then he crouched down and reached underneath it, pulling out a long bundle of fabric. He pulled the fabric away, revealing a large elven bow which, standing up, was taller than Brom and almost as tall as Morzan. Reaching under the sideboard again, he dragged out a black quiver with a belt, already containing arrows.
“Here. Because you always kept breaking every other bow in training out of protest. This one should suit you better.” Brom held the bow and the quiver out to Morzan, who took both with a feeling close to reverence. He let his fingers run over the bow's almost black reddish wood. “Hello pretty thing." he smirked. Cruor let out an amused snort from where she laid half draped over a dozing Saphira. Brom merely rubbed his hand over his face with a groan. The he threw a curious look at Morzan.
“So. Where are you two headed?”
“Ilirea and then we’ll see.”
“Ilirea? Didn’t think you'd miss our time as students there that much.”
“I really don’t. But they have the lists for the fighters there.”
“I’ll take it you didn’t take Oromis' suggestion to go for spellwork into consideration?”
“Old elf is just scared that I'll lose it and go on a murder spree when I hold my sword for too long.” He shook his head. “I hope to get into caravan protection, at least for the start, haven’t been in the desert for a while.”
Brom tilted his head at him in contemplation, then with a few steps pulled him into a crushing hug. Morzan was fast enough to pull the bow away before it could get squeezed between them.
“Hug back ,you insufferable asshole" Brom grumbled. Morzan sighed, decided that he actually could really use a hug right now and slung his free arm around the other, awkwardly patting the shorter rider on the back.