Chapter XXXV: Tronjheim

Eragon and I both stretched in the hall. I was now stiff, as well as sore, from sitting still for so long. Behind us, the Twins entered Ajihad's study.

"I'm sorry that you're in trouble because of me," Eragon apologized.

"Don't bother yourself," Orik grunted, tugging on his beard. "Ajihad gave me what I wanted."

"What do you mean?" I asked in surprise. "You can't train or fight, and you're stuck guiding us. How can that be what you wanted?"

The dwarf eyed both Eragon and I quietly. "Ajihad is a good leader. He understands how to keep the law yet remain just. I have been punished by his command, but I'm also one of Hrothergar's subjects. Under his rule, I'm still free to do what I wish."

"Ajihad just placed you in a powerful position, didn't he?" I said, figuring out that the power was split within Tronjheim.

Orik chuckled deeply. "That he did, and in such a way that the Twins can't complain about it. This'll irritate them for sure. Ajihad's a tricky one, he is. Come, both of you, I'm sure you're hungry. And we have to get the dragon settled in."

Saphira hissed. Eragon said, "Her name is Saphira."

Orik made a small bow to her. "My apologies, I'll be sure to remember that." Orik took one of the weird lamps from the wall and led us down a hallway.

"Can others in Farthen Dûr use magic?" I asked curiously, almost jogging in order to keep up with the dwarf's brisk pace.

"Few enough," Orik responded. "And the ones we have can't do much more than heal bruises. They've all had to tend to Arya because of the strength needed to heal her."

"Except for the Twins," Eragon said.

"Oeí," the brown-haired dwarf grumbled. "She wouldn't want their help anyway; their arts are not for healing. Their talents lie in scheming and plotting for power – to everyone else's detriment. Deynor, Ajihad's predecessor, allowed them to join the Varden because he needed their support... you can't oppose the Empire without spellcasters who can hold their own on the field of battle. They're a nasty pair, but they do have their uses."

We entered one of the four main tunnels that divided Tronjheim. Clusters of dwarves and humans strolled through it, voices echoing loudly off the polished floor. The conversations stopped abruptly when they noticed Saphira. Orik ignored the spectators and turned left, heading toward one of Tronjheim's distant gates. "Where are we going?" Eragon asked.

"Out of these halls so Saphira can fly to the dragonhold above Isidar Mithrim, the Star Rose. The dragonhold doesn't have a roof – Tronjheim's peak is open to the sky, like that of Farthen Dûr – so she, that is you Saphira, will be able to glide straight down into the hold. It is where the Riders used to stay when they visited Tronjheim."

"Wouldn't it be damp and cold without a roof?" Eragon quizzed.

"Nay," Orik shook his head. "Farthen Dûr protects us from the elements. Neither rain nor snow intrude here. Besides, the hold's walls are lined with marble caves for dragons. They provide all the shelter necessary. All you need fear are the icicles; when they fall they've been known to cleave a horse in two."

"Where are our horses?" I asked, worrying about Istal.

"In the stables, by the gate. We can visit them before leaving."

We left Tronjheim through the same gate we had entered. The gold griffins gleamed with coloured highlights garnered from scores of lanterns. The sun had moved during our conversation with Ajihad – light no longer entered Farthen Dûr through the crater opening. Without those moted rays, the inside of the hollow mountain was velvety black. The only illumination came from Tronjheim, which sparkled brilliantly in the gloom. The city-mountain's radiance was enough to brighten the ground hundreds of metres away.

Orik pointed at Tronjheim's white pinnacle. "Fresh meat and pure mountain water await you up there," he told Saphira. "You may stay in any of the caves. Once you make your choice, bedding will be laid down in it and then no one will disturb you."

"I thought we were going to stay together," Eragon protested. "I don't want to be separated."

Orik turned to face the Rider. "Rider Eragon, I will do everything to accommodate you, but it would be best Saphira waits in the dragonhold while you eat. The tunnels to the banquet halls aren't large enough for her to accompany us."

"Why can't you just bring me food in the hold?" Eragon asked.

"Because," Orik said with a guarded expression, "the food is prepared down here, and it is a long way to the top. If you wish, a servant could be sent up to the hold with a meal for you. It will take some time, but you could eat with Saphira then."

"I'll eat down here," Eragon responded, unsaddling Saphira and passing her Zar'roc. Saphira took off with an explosive leap.

As she disappeared over the rim of Tronjheim's peak, Orik let out a long breath. "Ah boy, you have been blessed indeed. I find a sudden longing in my heart for open skies and soaring cliffs and the thrill of hunting like a hawk. Still, my feet are better on the ground – preferably under it." He clapped his hands loudly. "I neglect my duties as a host. I know neither of you have eaten since that pitiful dinner the Twins so fit to give you, so come, let's find the cooks and beg meat and bread from them."

Eragon and I followed the dwarf back into Tronjheim and through a labyrinth of corridors until we came to a long room filled with rows of stone tables only tall enough for dwarves. Fires blazed in soapstone ovens behind a long counter.

Orik spoke words in an unfamiliar language to a stout ruddy-faced dwarf, who promptly handed us stone platters piled with steaming mushrooms and fish. Then Orik guided us up several flights of stairs and into a small alcove carved out of Tronjheim's outer wall, where we sat cross-legged.

Once our platters were empty, Orik sighed with contentment and pulled out a long-stemmed pipe. He lit it, saying, "A worthy repast, though it needed a good draught of mead to wash it down properly."

"Do you farm in Farthen Dûr?" Eragon asked.

Orik shook his head. "There's only enough sunlight for moss, mushrooms, and mould. Tronjheim cannot survive without supplies from the surrounding valleys, which is one reason why many of us choose to live elsewhere in the Beor Mountains."

"Then there are other dwarf cities?" I asked.

"Not as many as we would like. And Tronjheim is the greatest of them." Leaning on an elbow, Orik took a deep pull on his pipe. "You have only seen the lower levels, so it hasn't been apparent, but most of Tronjheim is deserted. The farther up you go, the emptier it gets. Entire floors have remained untouched for centuries. Most dwarves prefer to dwell under Tronjheim and Farthen Dûr in the caverns and passageways that riddle the rock. Through the centuries, we have tunnelled extensively under the Beor Mountains. It is possible to walk from one end of the mountain range to the other without ever setting foot on the surface."

"It seems like a waste to have all that unused space in Tronjheim," Eragon commented.

Orik nodded. "Some have argued for abandoning this place because of its drain on our resources. But Tronjheim does perform one invaluable task."

"What's that?" I asked.

"In times of misfortune it can house our entire nation. There have only been three instances in our history when we have been forced to that extreme, but each time it has saved us from certain and utter destruction. That is why we always keep it garrisoned, ready for use."

"I've never seen anything as magnificent," Eragon admitted, and I nodded in agreement.

Orik smiled around his pipe. "I'm glad you find it so. It took generations to build Tronjheim – and our lives are much longer than those of men. Unfortunately, because of the cursed Empire, few outsiders are allowed to see its glory."

"How many Varden are here?"

"Dwarves or humans?"

"Humans," Eragon corrected, "I want to know how many have fled the Empire."

"There's roughly four thousand of your kin here. But that's a poor indicator of what you want to know. Only people who wish to fight come here, sometimes with their families. The rest of them are under King Orrin's protection in Surda."

"Why doesn't Orrin fight the Empire himself?" Eragon asked.

"He would be destroyed by Galbatorix, wouldn't he?"

"Aye," Orik said in response to my question. "As it is, Galbatorix withholds that destruction because he considers Surda a minor threat, which is a mistake. It's through Orrin's assistance that the Varden have most of their weapons and supplies. Without him, there would be no resisting the Empire. Don't despair over the number of humans in Tronjheim. There are many dwarves here – many more than you have seen – and all will fight when the time comes. Orrin has also pledged himself to our course when we fight Galbatorix, along with the elves."

"What does the emblem on your helm mean?" I asked, looking at the engraving of a hammer and stars. "It was on the floor in Tronhjheim."

Orik lifted the iron-bound cap off his head, and ran a rough finger over the engraving. "It is the symbol of my clan. We are the Ingietum, metalworkers and master smiths. The hammer and stars are inlaid into Tronjheim's floors because it was the personal crest of Korgan, our founder. One clan to rule, with twelve surrounding. King Hrothgar is Dûrgrimst Ingietum as well and has brought my house much glory, much honour."

"Tronjheim, Farthen Dûr, Dûrgrimst Ingietum... these mean something, don't they? They aren't in the ancient language or in the human language," I commented.

"Oeí, it is our spoken language – Dwarvish. It is one of the oldest languages in Algaësia," Orik said. "Tronjheim means Helm of Giants, Farthen Dûr means Our Father, Dûrgrimst means clan although it translates to our hall/home. Ingietum means fire workers, smiths."

I nodded and we went back to the cook, returning the platters. As we passed a dwarf in the hall, he stopped before Eragon, bowed, and said respectfully, "Argetlam."

The dwarf left Eragon fumbling for an answer and flushing slightly. "What does that mean?" He asked quietly.

"Silver hand in the ancient language," I responded, being taught both the word for silver and hand.

"Do you wish to return to Saphira?" Orik asked, "I can imagine you both would wish for sleep."

"Is there somewhere we can bathe first?" Eragon questioned. "Neither of us have been able to wash the grime from the road for a long time."

"We probably require new clothing as well. Ours is worn, torn, bloodstained, and stink. We don't have money for a new one, but we could work for it," I added on, Eragon nodded in agreement.

"Do you seek to insult Hrothgar's hospitality?" Orik demanded, "As long as you are in Tronjheim, you won't have to buy a thing. It goes for both of you. You'll pay for it in other ways – Ajihad and Hrothgar will see to that. Come. I'll show you where to wash, the fetch you clothing. "

Orik led us down a long staircase until we were well below Tronjheim. The corridors were tunnels now – which cramped Eragon and me because they were only one and a half metres high – and all the lanterns were red. "So the light doesn't blind you when you leave or enter a dark cavern," Orik explained when Eragon asked.

Once we reached a bare room with a small door on the far side. Orik pointed. "The pools are through there, along with brushes and soap. Leave your clothes here. I'll have new ones waiting when you get out."

Eragon and I quickly undressed and hurried through the door. It was completely dark, and I moved forward slowly until I found warm water. The pool was mildly salty, but soothing and calm. I waded forward for a bit before I found the soap and brushes.

When I emerged into the lighted room, there were towels and clothes waiting. I dried myself and changed quickly, glad that the linin shirt and breeches fit well. I moved back into the tunnel, where Orik was waiting for Eragon and me. We waited for a few minutes before Eragon emerged from the room.

We climbed the stairs back into Tronjheim, then exited the city-mountain. Eragon gazed at Tronjheim's peak before Saphira flew down from the dragonhold. "How do you communicate with people at the top of Tronjheim?" I asked.

Orik chuckled. "That's a problem we solved long ago. I doubt either of you noticed, but behind the open arches that line each level is a single unbroken staircase that spirals around the wall of Tronjheim's central chamber. The stairs climb all the way to the dragonhold above Isidar Mithrim. We call it Vol Turin, The Endless Staircase. Running up or down it isn't swift enough for an emergency, nor convenient enough for casual use. Instead, we use flashing lanterns to convey messages. There is another way as well, though it is seldom used. When Vol Turin was constructed, a polished trough was cut next to it. The trough acts as a giant slide as high as a mountain."

Eragon's lips twitched into a smile. "Is it dangerous?"

"Do not think of trying it," Orik warned gravely. "The slide was built for dwarves and is too narrow for a man. If you slipped out of it, you could be thrown onto the stairs and against the arches, perhaps even into empty space. Now, Umaroth, are you going up with Saphira?"

I looked over at Eragon who nodded. "Yes, I will be. If that's alright?"

"It is fine," Orik confirmed as Saphira landed nearby. Humans and dwarves trickled out of Tronjheim, gathering around her with murmurs of interest. "You'd better go. Meet by this gate tomorrow morning. I'll be waiting," Orik said.

"How do we know when it's morning?" I asked as Eragon slipped through the crowd.

"I'll have someone wake you. Now go!" Orik responded. Without further protest, I followed Eragon and jumped onto Saphira's back, behind him.

Before Saphira could take off, an old woman grabbed Eragon's foot. "What do you want?" Eragon asked.

The woman tilted her arm, showing a baby wrapped in blankets. "The child has no parents," the old woman said desperately, "there is no one way to care for her but me, and I am weak. Bless her with your power, Argetlam. Bless her for luck! Bless her, Argetlam, bless her," she insisted.

I reached out to touch Eragon's mind feeling his unease and worry. Use a phrase from the ancient language, I advised, before withdrawing from his mind.

Eragon bent down, taking the glove off his right hand. "Atra gülai un ilian tauthr ono un atra ono waíse skölir frá rauthr," he intoned. I frowned, feeling unease coil within me, as if something wasn't right. However, what Eragon had said appeared to translate nicely into a blessing. "That's all I can do for her. If any words have the power to forestall tragedy, it will be those."

"Thank you Argetlam," the woman whispered, bowing slightly. Saphira than twisted herself and loomed over the baby, just as the woman backed away. Saphira lowered her snout and brushed the baby between the eyes with the tip of her nose, then smoothly lifted away. I stared at the star-shaped patch of silvery skin, and Saphira took off.

I grabbed onto Eragon's shoulders so I didn't fall as Saphira's heavy wing strokes took us away from the crowd. I could tell that Eragon and Saphira were having a conversation. For one moment, I wished someone else were with us. Despite being with Eragon and Saphira, I felt lonely. It made sense, though. After all, the pair didn't need to speak aloud in order to talk, which left me unknowing of what was taking place.

Saphira descended to the dragonhold on silent wings. She slipped over the rim and landed on Isidar Mithrim, the great star sapphire. I dismounted, turning around to study the dragonhold. We were in a round roofless room about twenty metres high and wide. The walls were lined with dark openings of caves, which different in size. Shiny rungs were set into marble walls so that people could reach the highest caves. An enormous archway led out of the dragonhold.

Eragon lay down on the floor, and I laughed at him. He looked up in surprise, clearly having forgotten me. "Can you see anything?" I asked curiously, as he stood up again.

"Distorted lines and wavering spots of colour, but not much else," Eragon responded. He paused, "Saphira says there are two beds set up in the cave she has chosen. I hope you don't mind being stuck with us."

"It'll be strange, sleeping inside and on a bed again," I responded with a smile. "Besides, I've put up with you two, Murtagh... and Brom. It's not like this is any different."

I followed behind Eragon, as he clambered up into a cave six metres off the ground. The cave was a dark brown on the inside, and surprisingly deep. The roughly chiselled walls gave the impression of a natural formation. Near the far wall was a thick cushion large enough for Saphira to curl up on. Beside it was a bed built into the side of the wall, and opposite that bed was another attached to the opposite wall. The cave was lit by a single red lantern equipped with a shutter so its glow could be muted.

I fell back into the bed furthest from Saphira with a sigh of relief. "Feeling old?" Eragon called out.

"I was just trying to act like you," I responded with a roll of my eyes.

I felt Saphira touch my mind, and I removed some of my defences, allowing Eragon and Saphira to talk to me. What do you think of Tronjheim and Ajihad? Eragon questioned, Saphira believes we are in a new type of warfare.

Swords and claws are useless, Saphira continued, but words and alliances may have the same effect. The Twins dislike both Eragon and I, which would mean you will need to be on guard – like us – from any attempts they make. Many of the dwarves do not trust, or like, us. The elves are against humans in general.

Ajihad is a good leader, and supports your freedom. However, it may be hard to stay afloat without pledging your loyalty to one group or another, I responded. Tronjheim... is big, but there are powers pulling on us. To you, it is dangerous in the sense of words and alliances and freedom. To me, it is dangerous in all ways; someone may try to attack me to hurt you. However, Ajihad has given me a position of relative freedom, and as such has allowed me to stay with you. For my protection, for your protection, or so you like him, I do not know.

Saphira curled up on the cushion. So we are still in a dangerous place, Eragon murmured.

I doubt many places will be safe until Galbatorix is gone, I replied.

We are alive, for now that will be enough, Saphira responded.

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It's been ages since this has updated, hence why I'm updating it now. I still don't have a plan for when I'm returning to this, but I will in time. At this point in time, I'll probably consider rewriting the first book, but who knows. 

For those who still have this in their library despite everything, thank you! And I'm sorry I can't provide a better timeline for when I'll return to this. But I will, eventually, return.