14

"You're late." Eragon Said emotionless when Renir met him in the eyrie the day after Arya and Fírnen had left.

In the morning, he had felt lazier than he had in a long time. And it had nothing to do with the coziness of his bed, or the need for more hours of sleep. His elven constitution allowed him to be awake and energetic at first light, so it was quite clear that his reluctance in getting out of bed was purely emotional. He felt drained. But forcing himself to move, he stretched and got to his feet, beginning to perform all four levels of the Rimgar.

When he was finished, his mood was a little better. He stepped closer to the window and lost his gaze on the landscape of that land, so far away from home, but so much like home for him. His deep longing seemed to never have an end.

Feeling nostalgia stirring inside him, his eyes caught a glimpse of white flying in the distance. He forced his eyes and was able to make sense of what he was seeing. It was Blagden flying west. What a curious creature. If Eragon was to be completely honest, not knowing where that raven had been all those days since he last saw him during the Games was an itch he didn't know he had, neither why, but once in a while it would make itself noticeable, afraid of the unnatural sapience that Blagden possessed. So, watching the bird fly away brought a sense of relief he didn't know he needed.

After that, going back to his usual routine wasn't so taxing as it was before. And that's how he scheduled his meeting with Renir for after lunch at the eyrie, when they crossed paths in the training area.

About an hour after lunch, there was Renir in the eyrie. Hearing his master's accusation, the elf pursed his lips and a disgusted expression appeared on his face.

"I was with Avelina." He didn't apologize, which made Eragon frown. "She told me she was supposed to leave with Queen Arya yesterday, but had unfinished business to take care of first, so she will fly to Ellesméra in three days."

Eragon nodded. He was glad Renir and Avelina were in speaking terms again, but it didn't change his resolution of separating them.

"That's right."

Renir's disgust grew larger.

"She said that you told her to go. It was an order coming from you!"

Eragon was right when he said to Arya that Renir would be mad with his decision.

Renir came closer to Eragon's desk, where he's been working on some papers. The master rested the pen and calmly answered to the accusation.

"It's true, I did. Who else would give her an order if not me?"

"And may I know why?"

"Avelina will benefit from the company of her elders. Besides, Queen Arya is the only example of female Rider she has. She can learn a lot from being close to her."

Renir seemed he was nearly spitting at Eragon's feet. Well, he wouldn't be the first.

"These are mere facts, common sense, not argumentation. I asked you to explain."

Eragon exhaled heavily and got up to his feet, feeling annoyed beyond his limits. He wasn't the type of teacher that demanded obedience and discipline at all times. He was more inviting than demanding, but Renir had the ability of testing his patience.

He headed to the door, but when he passed by his student, he stopped, lowered his tone of voice and said with authority. "Must I remind you, Renir, that I don't owe you any explanations whatsoever? Now compose yourself and follow me before I say something you don't want to hear."

They walked in silence, their feet echoing on the stone of the hallways. Eragon noticed his apprentice's rage would take long to subside, so he kept the silence all the way to Angela's chamber's, a few levels above the dragon niches and the Riders' apartments. It was beneficial to both of them, since his student put him in a foul mood as well.

When they got there and the herbalist opened the door to greet them, Renir's curiosity took the best of him, making him break the silence.

"What are we doing here?" He asked in the common language to include Angela.

"I have matters to discuss with Angela, of course. And you are accompanying me."

"Now get in, boy. I won't keep holding the door forever." Angela said with impatience.

Eragon followed Renir inside and took a seat on an armchair, by the coffee table. Angela sat opposite him and offered Renir a stool. He took it, but it was clear he wanted to be anywhere else in the world but sitting there with them.

"Are you sure you want him to be present during our conversation? I don't mind, of course, but you seem keen in having your secrets." Angela never missed a chance to tease him.

"Oh, I am the one full of secrets, huh?"

She simply shrugged with a casual movement.

Eragon shook his head about her incoherence. "I'm sure. He can stay."

"He is right here. But doesn't want to be." Renir was indignant.

"You stay, Renir." Eragon's firm voice settled the dispute for the second time that day.

Solembum, who was a mere spectator at that point, jumped from Angela's bed and rubbed his face and torso against Renir's legs, with his tail raised in the air in the shape of a hook. At that, the young elf eased his expression and Eragon could almost perceive a smile on his lips. He bent down to scratch the werecat's back, what made him purr and lie down on the carpet by Renir's feet. Odd, very odd.

"Hello, Solembum." Eragon greeted, to which he only received a slow blink.

"All right. Let's get to it then." Angela spoke.

For the next hour, the herbalist and the Rider discussed the dark forces forming somewhere in Alagaësia. The young apprentice never said a word, but listened carefully. From time to time, Solembum would add to what Angela was saying, a detail or another picked up by the others of his kind.

The werecats were sure that the mysterious land up north was the setting of some strange movement. Angela and Solembum concluded that the vision Eragon had about the army that was forming at the frozen forest was current, therefore the only possible location for it was the cold north, since the rest of the land experienced an exceptionally hot summer. The north was still unknown by the greater population, but considered dangerous by many.

Eragon still questioned Angela if she was completely sure it was Alagaësia the place he saw, and she quizzically, in her customary way, asked what was Alagaësia really, if not a convention? A portion of land that only responded to itself alone and was independent from people's designations.

"Is that a yes?" He asked in confusion.

Angela shook her head and grumped about his stupidity.

"If you need the convention, then yes! It's Alagaësia."

Whatever she meant by the whole convention theory, the important part about it was that once again Alagaësia was in danger. He had said to Orik and the others as they met by the fire during the Games that he was sure that place was part of Alagaësia, but he wasn't. He said it only to compel Orik to accept his proposition. Now that Angela confirmed what he only guessed, he felt better for not lying to his friends.

"Have you heard from Elva lately?" Eragon asked.

"I have not, since we separated. But it doesn't mean I'm not keeping my eyes on her."

Renir contributed to the conversation after the entire hour they had spent there for the first time. "It's exactly what it means. If you haven't heard from her or seen her, how can you keep your eyes on her? And how strange is this expression, keeping your eyes on someone. It's imprecise and subjective."

"I haven't heard from her, not about her."

Angela kept a pair of amused eyes and turned to Eragon.

"He reminds me of someone, I wonder who that is…"

She was right, in Eragon's opinion. Renir behaved like an angry and misunderstood young Eragon. Being so similar in age, the two of them developed in very different ways, having two very different upbringings. Also, Eragon was considered a grown man for more than ten years, while Renir was still a child in the eyes of his people.

Wanting to soothe Renir's confusion and avoid more dissatisfaction between the two of them, Eragon ignored Angela's teasing and said. "I would like to know how are you doing that as well, Angela."

"Whispers, obviously. The land whispers, lads. It's alive, so are its drunken, corrupt inhabitants. Or I've heard."

Renir was appalled at what Eragon thought was her imprecise ways of using the language.

"Is she always like this?" He asked Eragon, who felt they had formed an alliance against the herbalist's strangeness.

"I thought you had noticed already. But yes, she's annoyingly vague and secretive." With that last part, he stared at Angela, in a serious gaze.

"Peace, Shadeslayer. I'm on your side. Anyway, if you worry that the individual responsible for what you saw in your vision is Elva, you can rest. She became a calmer person after the time she spent here under your tutelage, ten years ago. I heard she's been roaming around, using her skills for money, never to hurt anyone though. The last whisper that came to my ears spoke about her learning the ways of the sword under a swordsman in Ceunon."

"Ceunon? It's unnervingly close to the frozen north, don't you think?"

Angela squinted.

"Will you ever stop doubting her motives?"

Eragon felt bad, but there was nothing he could do to placate his troubled feelings toward the strange girl.

"I don't think I will, although I would like to very much."

Her expression lightened and she seemed proud.

"Good! It means you are learning something after all."

Eragon could spend his entire life trying to interpret what her insinuations meant, and still he wouldn't get to the bottom of it.

"What do you know about Bachel? Could she be the one I saw?"

Angela seemed displeased and on edge.

"I don't know about her."

"Angela..." His tone was of warning. "Don't hide it from me."

"I'll hide whatever I feel the need to." She said in a severe manner. "But I really don't know much about her. I know exactly what you told me about Murtagh's adventures."

He didn't know if he believed her, but it did not matter. She wouldn't say much more.

"Well, is that all?"

"I believe it is, which isn't great. I told you I didn't know much."

"Aye. But I needed to hear from you, even if it was just to put us two on the same page."

"What does it mean, to be on the same page?" Renir interfered again.

"To agree on something." Angela answered casually without bothering to look at him. "Now, Eragon… I must warn you. If you try to act impulsively like you normally do, you will condemn us out to destruction."

In rare occasions, Eragon knew exactly what Angela talked about. And that was one of them.

"I won't. I promise. I wish to be sure of their motivations and our abilities to face them first. I told Arya I wouldn't try to figure this out, but I have to, it's my job to do so."

"It is. It's good that you were enlightened by such notion."

He nodded and moved to leave. Renir moved too, still looking confused by all of the information he heard there.

"Thank you, Angela. I'll come to you if I learn something new and I expect you to do the same."

"I wouldn't expect much if I were you, Rider." She went to open the door for them. "It may take years before the next piece is moved on the board."

A shiver ran through Eragon's body.

"Even then. If you…"

"Fine!" She interrupted him and practically pushed him out the door. "Go now. I have people to see, things to do."

When they were out of her chambers and the door was almost completely shut, Eragon called her again.

"One last thing."

"Yes?"

He lowered his voice after instructing Renir to go ahead and wait him in the main hall.

"Arya told me what you did for her."

She shook her head and raised her hands.

"If you expect me to tell you what I read for her in the bones, then you can take your pitiful puppy face away from here."

"Of course I don't! I just want to ask… Why would you even consider offering something like that to her? And she said you forced her." He put his dissatisfaction in his words.

Angela smiled grandly, which intrigued him.

"She said that? That I forced her to hear her fortune?"

"Not exactly." He softened his tone in embarrassment. "She did say you insisted."

"Yes, I insisted. Just like a did with you the second time. But did you take up my offer? No, you refused, and I didn't force you to do anything. The same goes for her. Now, don't you wonder why was she so curious to know about her future, and what she might have heard of it coming from the dragon bones?"

She was provoking his curiosity shamelessly, knowing very well he was a deep pond full of questions.

"It's none of my concern. I just wanted to tell you that this offer is dangerous. It almost ruined me."

"I would like to hear how I almost ruined you, and how you managed to thrive despite that, but I don't have the time. You can write me a letter, how about that?" The herbalist's sarcasm was her least annoying feature to Eragon, but it was very annoying nonetheless.

He said his grumpy goodbye and left to reunite with Renir.

"What now? And why am I following you around? You said you had an assignment for me."

"The assignment is to follow me around. And now we are going to work on a garden."

"A garden? What?" Renir was beyond confused.

"A garden. By the river. We can run there, what do you say?"

"Stop!"

Renir placed a hand on his master's arm to stop his advance, what made them stand in the hallway facing each other. They had stopped by the workshop to grab some tools that Eragon thought they would need, but Renir had no idea why.

"What are we doing exactly?"

Eragon sighed.

"I said Avelina will benefit from Arya's company. Well, I think you will benefit from mine. We both will." He shrugged.

"Are you really comparing yourself to the queen?" His mockery was offensive. But he had a point.

Another sigh came out of Eragon's mouth. He tried to work on his patience.

"I don't expect you to understand. At least not now. For now, I just need you to obey. So we run."

And they ran, from the main entrance of the mountain until the foot of the Tialdarí Hill, carrying all the tools they would need for the job in two big sacks. By the time they got there, Renir's mood wasn't any better, but Eragon was starting to be entertained by the other's reluctance.

"Here's the plan, every day, after lunch, we will work on this piece of land. I wish to build a big garden here, and I'm going to need your help. I heard you have quite the talent for singing to the plants." The subtle compliment seemed to work on Eragon's behalf.

Renir puffed his chest, and shrugged.

"I do well. I'm still learning."

Eragon almost smiled. Fake modesty? That's quite the advance for the first day of his method.

"Good, me too. We'll study together then."

Renir was interested, but tried his best not to show it, as Eragon perceived.

"But isn't this activity a personal matter of yours? What does it have to do with my training and lessons?"

Eragon turned away and walked around, inspecting the grass and the trees.

"I just have a good feeling it will teach us something useful. And first lesson..." He faced his student and gestured the number one with his right hand. "Learn to just go with it." An amused grin appeared in his face, which made Renir frown.

"Go with it? It's such an empty expression. Vague. Again! Only a language poor and deficient as this one could produce something like that." They were still using the common tongue, and Eragon decided to keep it that way, since he wanted Renir to really know him. His vocabulary and Palancar Valley accent should be part of the deal. As a plus, he would also catch a glimpse of how humans communicated and functioned in society.

Eragon laughed.

"Lesson one still needs more practice. Noted."

They worked practically together for the rest of the day. Practically because Renir would only take direct orders, refusing to build his autonomy. First, they walked around, measuring and taking notes about the type of ground and vegetation they were working on. It was more taxing than Eragon anticipated, for the extension of land he was considering for the garden was bigger than he initially imagined. Then, they started to clean the area of undesirable weeds. Renir would use magic whenever he could without draining his energies, and Eragon didn't oppose, but taught him the farmer's way, the way he was taught as a boy, just in case he wanted to try. With a hoe, Eragon removed most of the dead plants and weeds he could find, but there were too many, hidden in between other healthy plants that he intended to keep. So, he started to use his hands and almost didn't notice that Renir was on his knees picking the weed a few feet away from his master. Second victory of the day? He thought so.

"That's enough. We take it from here tomorrow." He announced, and Renir didn't express any reaction.

Silence is better than anger, right? Right?

Renir's silence lasted for months as they worked the land, until it was winter, and soon they had to pause their endeavor, for the air and the dirt were too cold for them to be outside.

When the first snow came, Eragon approached Renir at the breakfast table to announce their hiatus, and for his surprise the elf's face darkened with disappointment. However, he simply nodded and turned back to his food.

"I have an alternative for our gardening." Renir looked at him with a petulant curiosity. "Every project needs its planning. Winters will be for studying and planning. You take today for yourself, but tomorrow after lunch I expect you in the eyrie. If you have any books you think will help us, bring them. We have a lot to learn yet."

And that winter they studied together every day, as the snow storms punished Mount Arngor, stopping completely the trading, isolating them from the rest of the world. It was atypical and horrifyingly relentless. He walked around every free minute he had, making sure people were warm and well fed. If they could carry on with their work, despite the trembling hands and running nose, then they would, because if they could not, then Eragon would order them to go back to their chambers and rest. He also exhausted himself with spells to keep as many people as possible protected from the cold, and asked Blödhgarm to intensify the work on the heating system, that consisted on feeding the fireplaces constantly and letting the steaming waters flow in the underground. The elves moved the most vulnerable residents to the lowest levels of the mountain, so they could be close to the thermal waters.

How long they could take without new supplies and help from the exterior he knew not. But he was sure that that year's winter was a lesson well learned, to never be repeated again. Eragon was determined to double their production and stock up as much food and wood as they could for next year. Also, they had to start selling to other territories. They had the best rice, and he thought that the land he was working on was fertile enough for other types of production. Maybe barley? They could make their own ale and sell as a high-class product, wanted by all the lords and ladies in the west. He added that idea to his studies.

It was the middle of the winter, and the coldest period, when his relationship with Renir took its first big turn. And it was because the elf had found a common ground with his master. Their broken heart.

The day had begun the same way as the previous cold ones. Saphira and the other dragons were working all night to keep the fire alive in each of the fireplaces of Mount Arngor. Eragon went to meet her at the training hall, where she would sleep while he trained the students, so they could spend at least a bit of time together, even if their minds were only faintly connected through her slumber. Eragon had argued that the training hall wasn't comfortable and the Riders were too loud. She ignored him and did it her way.

They greeted each other, and Eragon sat by her side in silence, his back pressed against her body, while she quickly fell asleep. He was waiting for his students and the elven spellcasters to start the training, but was approached by Ästrith, who announced that Rílven had fallen ill, so Renir wouldn't had a sparring partner for the day.

Eragon considered partnering him with the oldest students, but that wouldn't be a challenge for Renir and he would probably act rebellious and difficult, like he did whenever he felt bored. The only way he saw was if one of the other elves or Eragon himself worked as Renir's sparring partner. It wasn't an easy choice, but he decided to do it himself, for as draining as it would be for him. So, he climbed back to the eyrie in big strides and grabbed Brisingr.

When he arrived back at the training area, the students were already sorted out in groups, with the exception of Renir, who performed fighting stances on the sidelines. Eragon felt bad for him. Despite his difficult nature, Renir didn't need to be treated as an outcast. Avelina was the only one who enjoyed his company, and even her was away from him. It was then he came to the idea that it wasn't Renir the one refusing to work with others, but it was mutual. He refused them because they refused him first, or maybe it was the other way around. He couldn't quite tell.

The master called, and Renir looked his way. When he realized what was about to happen, his eyes beamed with anticipation. He would finally test his skills against the great Shadeslayer. The hero, the legend! Eragon shook his head trying to wipe away the thought. He despised how he was portrayed in many songs and stories featuring him and Saphira.

Eragon felt Brisingr heavy in his hand. But it didn't last for long, because Renir, eager to prove his worth, attacked as soon as they took position to fight. He performed a number of intricate movements that Eragon was completely capable of stopping, without big concerns. The master didn't motion to counteract, which made the student keep advancing, hitting his sword against Eragon's, in a brilliant display of ability.

At some point, Renir's attacks started to become slower by the slightest, but it was enough for Eragon to pick up that he was beginning to tire. When the elf's sword descended to cut Eragon on the head, he used a delicate twist of his wrist to divert the other sword's trajectory to the side, what made Renir lose his balance and tip forward, while Eragon was free to go to his back and press Brisingr against his throat. An angered snarl came out from Renir's mouth.

They started again, and again Eragon was able to gain position on Renir's back. The fight ended like that, with the master submitting his student from a move to his back, at least ten times after the first. Renir wasn't fighting to prove his worth anymore, his motivation was pure anger. Armed with that intense feeling, Renir prepared to end the confrontation once and for all. Eragon noticed that Renir wanted to hurt him, so he let him, hoping it would teach him a lesson.

When Renir raised his sword diagonally and deferred the blow to Eragon's head more quickly than the human eyes could perceive, Eragon didn't defend himself, he only moved slightly back and let the dull blade pass, missing the left side of his head but hitting his brow instead. He felt his bone cracking and his sight immediately going dark on his left side. He didn't feel any pain in the moment, but knew it would come soon.

Eragon! Saphira's scream resonated inside his head at the same time as her roar echoed through the hall.

Silence followed as Eragon stumbled back and fell on the ground.

I'm fine. He grunted, but tried to hide the first signs of pain.

I'll shred that elf to pieces!

Saphira, please! I know what I'm doing. I appreciate your concern, but let me take care of it.

She roared again, lower this time, and sat back. There were small columns of fire rising from her nostrils.

Fine!

Eragon wiped his face on his sleeve and sat up. The aching area was pulsing under his touch now. It was a relief, though, to realize that his vision was only clouded by the stream of blood running down from his brow instead of being caused by some real damage in his eye.

The elves surrounded him to help with his injury, but he declined it and stood up. He could take the pain of a broken bone and a split brow. He could fight with blood in his eye, he had done it before. But what he was completely incapable of doing was letting his student fail in become the best Rider he could. Or at least a decent person.

"You got me. That's one for you and eleven for me. Let's keep going."

He raised Brisingr while the elves stepped back reluctant. Renir had a shocked expression on his face and seemed paralyzed. Maybe he had never thought what would it feel to actually hurt someone instead of only trying. Maybe he would drop his harmful intentions for good after that, Eragon hoped. And he was right.

Renir dropped his sword and shook his head, he was wide eyed.

"Renir, your training isn't finished. Pick up your sword." Eragon commanded.

Very slowly he did as he was told. Eragon looked around and saw all the others watching the confrontation, and felt bad that Renir would suffer even further humiliation by being massacred in front of his peers, just to make the mistake of injuring his master. So, he decided to change his approach, he would teach his student how to win in an honorable way.

Every once in a while, after their sparring resumed with a lot more caution from Renir's part, Eragon's sword would lead his opponent to a position that Renir could easily transform into a powerful attack. At first, the young Rider seemed confused, probably thinking his master was getting tired from the pain and allowed such 'mistakes' to happen. But his eyes crossed with his master's and soon he realized he was being taught without the use of words.

After that, it was easy to perceive that the positions led by the movement of Brisingr against his own sword started to flow by Renir's own action. It was easy for Eragon, because he was sure that their audience thought that the teacher was being surpassed by his student. Good. Maybe they will want to increase his status and allow him in their groups next time.

Finally, Renir managed to poke Eragon's hand with the tip of his sword, which made Brisingr escape from Eragon's grip. It was predictable, since Renir performed the movement he was silently teaching him, but Eragon didn't stop it, and let himself being touched on the throat, in the way that Renir learned the outcome of such maneuver. They used spells to dull their blades, but still he felt constricted by the pressure.

"Enough." He commanded, and Renir backed away. "You did good, Renir. Well done." Eragon touched his lips with two fingers and greeted his student, who was too impressed to respond.

Eragon collected his sword and ordered the training to continue, as he retreated to the eyrie, followed closely by Saphira.

The wind was howling outside the eyrie, and the cold was almost too much for him to stay there without Saphira's warmth. She had left to start her night duty with the fireplaces, and he was ready to leave too after organizing his work on his desk, for he feared the fireplace and his blankets wouldn't be enough to keep him warm that night. His brow was completely healed, and he looked perfectly fine, if it wasn't for the black cloud on his head that was the problem of Renir's temper.

As if commanded, the elf knocked on the door.

Face to face with his master, the student seemed to falter. Eragon felt his sympathy grow. He knew from his own experience how bad it feels to make mistakes out of impulsiveness and ignorance.

"Hello, Renir." He said gently and watched as the other had a permanent pained expression on his face.

"I apologize, master. For hurting you."

"I forgive you. Is that all?" Eragon wanted to be inviting, to get Renir to talk, so they could finally work on their differences, but he didn't know how to do it.

Renir looked away, letting the wind resonate between them for too long.

"I… I am constantly angry. And I don't know how to stop it, or even if I want to stop it." His lips were trembling, because of the emotion or the cold, Eragon didn't know for sure. At that moment, even them being almost equally young, Eragon felt extremely paternal.

"Come, sit here."

Eragon led him to a chair by the fire and sat across from him.

"Do you know why do you feel this way?"

"I do."

They stared at each other, and Eragon thought that Renir would continue talking, but nothing else came out from his mouth.

He reclined in his chair and put on his most patient mask to allow Renir to feel comfortable to share.

"All right. Take your time."

As the elf reunited his courage to speak, Eragon watched as his face was gaining a dark shade of red and his brows came together. He was on the verge of another outbreak of anger.

"I'm angry with... I... hate... I hate humans. They took everything I had." Eragon sat up straight and put his elbows on his thighs.

"Renir..." He tried to sound calm and composed. "Who hurt you?"

Renir's lips turned downwards, forming a grimace.

"Barst..." He spat the name. "Galbatorix. You."

Eragon had an idea of why he was included in the list. Rumor had it that Renir expected to become Saphira's Rider once, and for that he held a bitterness toward Eragon.

"Go on." The master encouraged.

"My entire family died in the war. Mother, father, brother. I have no one else. War that you induced, against that mad man. And Barst, with his mace, wiped my entire bloodline that lasted for centuries. All gone. Because of the inability of humans to stay out of trouble. It seems misery always keeps your kind as company and drags everyone else with it." His speech was filled with disgust. "I hate everything related to humanity. Their horrendous language, their weakness, their habits."

"I see." Eragon was speechless.

He didn't know how to work around the problem of hatred and strong prejudice against different kinds so deep into his home. The races in Mount Arngor lived together in a regime of tolerance, not exactly holding each other in fondness though. There were exceptions, in which friendship sparkled and even love. There were the negative exceptions as well, when quarrel would arise among them. But this kind of hate? In Arngor? No, that was totally new for him.

Renir diverted his gaze, and his emotion changed. His heated features turned into a sad expression.

"The worst thing is..." He looked back at Eragon. "The kindest people I have encountered in the last decade... The one's who truly cared about me, and now I see how much, were Avelina..." He forced gulp down. "...and you. And I hate it. I hate you even more for not hating me back."

Eragon felt divided. He wanted to scream at Renir, to say he was being irrational, that few didn't speak for all. But at the same time, he understood. He was also wronged by terrible men. He also felt the bitterness of loss taking roots inside his chest.

"Listen..." He began softly. "It may seem that we are very different from each other, but you heard when Angela compared the two of us. She wasn't wrong. I've always seen a lot of myself in you, but until now I wasn't sure how much."

Eragon paused because Renir looked like he wanted to object. He didn't, however. Instead, he expressed his confusion. "You think we are alike? I can't possibly conceive this notion."

The teacher smiled kindly.

"That's because you don't know me at all, Renir. And that's the reason why I wanted you to be my shadow. To spend time with me. So you would know me, and with time, finally accept me as your teacher."

Renir scoffed.

"How would that change the way I see you? Do you think I would feel sympathy for you, just because you are kind to me and because you lost people too? I've read about you already, I know you."

Eragon held a sad look. He hated how the stories about him would always paint a perfect picture of heroism and courage. They wouldn't tell about his nightmares, his mistakes, his impulsiveness, his prejudice. They wouldn't tell about how many times he hurt the people he loved. Renir hated Eragon because he knew the hero, the farm boy turned legend. And for that, he didn't know Eragon at all.

"No, my friend. If you only read about me, you know nothing. I'm not a character in a story."

"What is it, then, that makes us so much alike?"

"I'd rather just keep with the plan, than trying to convince you of anything. Just know that I'm not giving up on you."

The student seemed even more confused.

"Why not? Why do you insist?"

"Because I would be giving up on myself too. Now go rest. Tomorrow you will be back here so we can continue with our studies." Eragon sat back and watched Renir stand up to leave.

With his hand already reaching for the doorknob, Renir spun around and faced Eragon.

"Master... I am sorry for hurting you." He used the Ancient Language for the first time with Eragon since they started to work together. "I realize now that I don't want to cause you harm and I regret what I did." He seemed like was struggling to say those words, even being as truthful as they were.

Eragon smiled and nodded.

"You are forgiven."

Renir left, and Eragon felt strange. Suddenly he felt too conscious about all the lives he touched, even without knowing. How many children lost their parents in the war? They fought to protect or to kill Eragon, either way, it was because of him. His chest tightened and he felt sadness taking over. Indeed, misery likes to make humans its loving company.

He stood up and walked to his bookshelf. Between a large volume about the updated history of Alagaësia given to him by Jeod and a guide to the wildlife of the Beor Mountains, sat the original copy of the poem he wrote for Arya. It had a simple leather cover, without all the drawings he made for her. The pages carried his erratic handwriting and blots of black ink, instead of the careful calligraphy used only for her, but the content was the same. The story of a character navigating through the mystery of being alive.

He grabbed the book and sat on his bed. He took a deep breath and his eyes fell on the dresser, where the fairth Arya made for him was placed beside the one of his mother made by Brom. He felt his eyes sting. In the end, the story of love and loss he held in his hands was the story of his own life. But it was also the story of Renir's life. And Arya's. And Brom's, Selena's, Roran's and many others. It was about being alive. And longing.