The Grey Chronicles (Eragon fanfic) Book 1: Emergence

Chapter 14: Scars and Burdens

A.N: Jesse's song is in the external link.

Enjoy!

~

Tarnag was all Jesse thought it would be despite spending a full two days within it: beautiful, but broken at the same time. She had been happy being even a day away from it.

Certain people objected to the alliance of a Rider with the Varden (she made sure to remember the name Az Sweldn rak Anhuin), something born more of old bitterness than practicality. Despite the feast they were given and the hospitality shown by their host Undin, the young sailor was not surprised that they left with the dawn on the third day. At least Arya was able to focus more on teaching than her disagreements with the Quan over religion.

The seven guards sent by Undin to accompany them did not really show their curiosity about her around the others, but it was there, she knew. Jesse was accorded a raft all her own after all (mostly because her guide in Celbedeil caught her speaking coral to one of the other priests), though she tried to make up for it with getting most of the luggage. She also held conversations with Saphira, who swam in the river. How she wished she could join her!

But there was still another matter to take care of, something that must be done in privacy. You do well to honor him, little one, the dragon lauded the grey-eyed girl once she communicated her intentions to her.

The forest trees of the Beor mountains were towering even at the edge of the river tributary, shielding it from the sun and casting a dappled shadow over the flowing waters. Animals did not seem to fear the strange creatures passing through their private sanctuary, for they went on with their business as they usually did.

Eragon sat at the edge of the logs on his raft, staring at the sight.

Jesse smiled, then softly sang 'Dulaman' by Celtic Women under her breath as she saw the trees and their denizens scroll by like a film. The light-hearted lilt of the lyrics matched exactly with her mood and surroundings, and she eventually forgot herself as she sang.

The dwarves looked back from their posts to look at her. Arya and Orik did as well, and the son of Hrothgar smiled widely. He had missed the sailor's beautiful voice, truly like the mountain winds set loose upon a wide plain, fierce with a certain gentle edge. Perhaps it was her strange way of saying certain words occasionally.

The sailor ended her song, and blushed terribly when she saw the many faces. "You heard me, didn't you?" she asked very shyly. Before anyone could answer, the girl busied herself with rowing behind them.

And she sang no more for the rest of the day and night.

*****

The next morning found them at much the same routine as they did yesterday. Jesse was too self-conscious now to grace the air with her music, despite Saphira's insistence. The blue dragon kept humming at her insistently to sing even a simple tune, until she decided to give up and fly with Eragon as the day waned. The sailor was relieved.

Thankfully, Arya spoke nothing about yesterday's events and proceeded to teach the girl how to make certain hand gestures accompanying her greetings to one of superior rank. As she struggled to master the tricky fingering, Eragon returned with Saphira after an encounter with one of the Beors' unique creatures, the Fanghur. Even then, Jesse did not stop her lesson until she spied Orik walking to the edge of the raft closest to hers, and threw something that glinted brightly in her direction.

His aim was accurate. A mass of golden bands shone in the Erisdar lanterns; a puzzle ring not unlike something her father once wore.

"Something to keep your mind busy when we dock tonight," the dwarf called.

"Thank you," the sailor replied, "you don't know how much it means to me." As she got to work on it immediately, she thought to herself, tears barely threatening to spill, Really, you don't. The one her older brothers had given her had already been lost as a child, and her father Liam was of the habit of letting her play with his before leaving with the fleet for the winter. Simply touching it brought back other happy memories as well.

Like the time Joshua and Luke tried to scare her with something gross, a trick they used to torment the other girls at home. Being just as much of a tomboy as they were, however, the girl locked them in their cobwebbed shed for a few minutes in retaliation. The child truly did not understand how two boys, unafraid of anything except for the disappointment of their father and idol perhaps, got saddled with arachnophobia, of all things.

That evening, Thorv decided on a camping spot as he usually did, and Jesse helped with dragging the rafts up the bank and unpacking their belongings. With Eragon in the corner of her eye, the sailor promptly set up her tent and stowed all but her sai inside. She was getting out of practice, and she knew the Rider had the same idea. Za'roc gleamed a bright blood red.

Agonizingly slowly at first, then getting faster as she gained confidence, Jesse went through all the several battle dances Angela had shown her, then the ones she had seen a few Chinese boys do on some of the other ships when they weren't out and about with their duties. Naturally, no Irish-girl had any Shaolin training in her life, but she tried hard to get it right. When her memory failed to get the details, she focused on the flashy move that came next and worked backwards. Soon the young sailor worked up a copious amount of sweat.

Suddenly, she heard Eragon scream in pain, and the thud of his body hitting the ground.

Jesse immediately stopped and threw her sai blade-first into the ground, leaving the handles to stick up. And she was just in time to kneel quickly in front of him to drive off the others aside from Orik, Arya, and Saphira. The elf and dwarf were Eragon's friends, and she doubted if she could drive the female dragon away anyhow.

"Let him breathe," she told the other guards. "Keep yourselves busy with something. It shouldn't last long." Eventually, she convinced Arya and Orik as to leave them alone as well, leaving her and Saphira watching the Rider writhe in pain.

Of course, she had known what caused this painful backlash. With the scar on his back given by Durza, Eragon was virtually crippled. A word meaning death sentence on the battlefield.

Mentally and under her breath, Jesse cursed with all the swearwords she knew in Gaelic and English (and other languages as well). In graphic detail, she prayed that her hopes for his eternal suffering in Hell were increased a hundredfold and that even Satan wouldn't dare enact some punishments at first, impressed by the ruthlessness. Humans were especially adept at finding new ways to torture people according to all available history; the girl put her entire race's morbid imagination to good use.

It also helped to kill time, and she finished her litany just as Eragon awoke. The young sailor saw that he was not in the mood for pity, and simply shut her mouth as he stormed off.

Times like this, Jesse hated being helpless.