Sja Fram [Inheritance Cycle | Eragon Fanfiction]

Chapter XI: Towards Teirm (Unedited)

Chapter XI: Towards Teirm

The next day Eragon had joined Brom and me for riding, apparently in order to receive instructions as usual while he would ride Saphira every other day. "What's the sea like?"

"You must've heard it described before." Brom replied.

"Yes, but what is it really like?"

"I've heard it's so large no one actually knows if it ends. Apparently it's no one colour either, it can be green as grass, blue like the sky, grey like the clouds or clear like glass. Someone once told me each wave is different and comes with new strength or renews the sand. Is that true?" I asked Brom.

I looked over to Brom. Brom's eyes grew hazy, as if he were looking upon a hidden scene. "The sea is emotion incarnate. It loves, hates, and weeps. It defies all attempts to capture it with words and rejects all shackles. No matter what you about it, there's always that which you can't. Do you both remember how I told you elves came from across the sea?"

"Yes," Eragon replied.

"Though the elves live far from the coast, they retain a great fascination and passion for the ocean. The sound of crashing waves, smell of salt air, it affects them deeply, and has inspired many of their loveliest songs. There is one that tells of this love, if you want to hear it, I can show you."

"I would," I replied, intrested.

Brom coughed and cleared his throat as he pulled Snowfire to a stop. "I will translate it from the Ancient Language as best I can. It won't be perfect, but perhaps it will give you an idea of how the original sounds." Brom closed his eyes before chanting softly.

O liquid temptress 'neath the azure sky,

Your gilded expanse calls me, calls me.

For I would sail ever on,

Were it not for the elven maid,

Who calls me, calls me.

She binds my heart with a lily-white tie,

Never to be broken, save by the sea,

Ever to be torn twixt the trees and the waves.

"There is much more to that song, it's known as 'Du Silbena Datia.' I have recited one of its verses, it tells of a tale between two lovers, Acallamh and Nuada, who were separated by longing for the sea. The elves find great meaning in the story." Brom said softly.

"It's beautiful." Eragon replied.

"And haunting," I added on as we moved forwards once more.

The spine was a faint outline on the horizon when we stopped that evening.

Three days after arriving at the Spine's foothills, and following the mountains south, we came to a wide road rutted by wagon wheels. "This is the main road between the capital, Urû'baen, and Tierm." Brom told me, it was one of Eragon's dragon riding days. "It's widely used and a favourite route for merchants. We'll have to be more cautious. This isn't the busiest time of year, but a few people are bound to be using the road."

Days passed quickly as we travelled alongside the Spine, searching for the mountain pass. Every second day, Eragon would join Brom and I and received instruction. I often listened whether it was about Eragon learning how to care for Saphira or when he was learning the elven language. When Eragon practised magic, I ended up focusing on talking to Istal within our minds or trying to increase my awareness of minds around me.

Eragon had also learned how to kill game with magic, which saved time. The results of his efforts roasted over the fire each night. And after dinner, Brom would spar with either Eragon or I and then the other with swords and had even introduced fighting with fists. Some nights Eragon and I fought while Brom watched on, while others I would focus on trying to block Saphira's thoughts while Eragon fought Brom.