The Grey Chronicles (Eragon fanfic) Book 1: Emergence

Chapter 15: Night Among the Elves

A.N: Reminders, all mention of any sort of Irish culture is thoroughly off the top of my head. Please do not take these 'traditions' literally.

It was some days more before they reached the dwarf outpost. By then, Jesse had already paid her last respects to Ajihad.

Two nights before they were expected to arrive, the sailor stole away from camp to the riverbank of the Edda river. Careful not to make too much noise, she had stripped to only her shirt and sea charm, which she took out just for the occasion.  With the ease and grace of experience, the girl entered the water and swam out near the center. There, Jesse allowed her voice to carry a full Irish dirge down the current.

The lyrics, long worn by the generations, sang of a paradise for the dead where they may rest their cares. It spoke of the sister of Avalon, that wondrous place that was protected and nurtured by the three-fold goddess of the old Druid faith. It was known amongst every long-lived Gaelic family that anyone sent off with this song, whether blood relative or outsider, had the highest hopes of being welcomed. She did not wish an eternity of nothingness for Ajihad, her foster father.

When she finished, she returned as quietly as she came, and slept the sleep of the innocent.

*****

At Hedarth, they exchanged their rafts for donkeys, a change which Jesse did not particularly like. She was more inclined to rowing until she absolutely had to travel by land. But it was not her expedition to lead, and she envied the strength and fitness of Miss Arya as she ran alongside their party.

The sailor went to bed that night with saddle sores.

Their second day out was more entertaining by far. The girl learned an interesting tidbit of dwarf physiology after listening into Orik's conversation with Eragon: dwarves had fourteen toes. The sailor thought it as definitely strange as they probably thought of the number of her toes, but she did not stick to the subject. She was more amused at the thought of human appearances as the source of a bet among dwarves when she saw that Ama and Hedin had grudgingly given her friend several silver coins after Eragon took off his boot to prove his point. From the snort coming from Saphira behind them, she probably thought it funny, too.

The moonrise that night took more of her attention; it marked the passing of her first two months in Alagaesia, and already she had formed some sort of unbreakable attachment to this land. She noticed, absently, that Eragon's hands tightened around the reins of his horse, and knew that he was looking forward to reaching Ceris. Rosebushes in full bloom emanated from the fringes of Du Weldenvarden with dogwoods, suffusing the air with a warm fragrance.

Overhead, Saphira ranged ahead, flicking her tail with impatience. She was just as excited as her Rider.

"Stop here," Arya said in a low voice when they entered a clearing. The did so, and she stepped forward to speak to her hidden people. Strangely, ever since Jesse entered the forest, she could feel where they were, instinctively as breathing.

The elf declared their presence in the ancient language, assuring them that her companions meant no harm. She went on in foreign words to her now as the human reminisced, Not that anyone could get hold of them long enough to hurt them, anyways. Formalities slightly irked her; she might not have as social a time here as she previously thought (which was not going to be much, anyway).

A voice responded from the leaves to the right of Miss Arya, too quickly spoken for the human to catch the meaning. The elf responded, "I do," and it was as if a tension was suddenly broken.

Elves carrying weapons went to the edge of the clearing, the ones on the ground bearing spears while those on the boughs (Jesse wanted to learn how to climb like that) had bows. They sang and spun around her in a hand-clasped circle like children, laughing gaily in musical tones as they went.