The Grey Chronicles (Eragon fanfic) Book 2: Eminence

Chapter 2: The Werecat and the Menoa Tree

A.N: I have got to be the unluckiest person in this city.

I have had to return the last copy of Eldest to the public library today. Sorry for the newst delay, but I will do my best to catch up a whole lot more with this story specifically --I am already halfway through the book in terms of story-adaptations, and it can't be too much work getting through the rest. Please bear with me if this particular story may not get updated as often. I want to be as true to the books as possible. Meaning: more than the last book, given all the time-skips.

Enjoy!

~

This was a different dream, Jesse could tell immediately. Her dreams usually concentrated solely on organizing the day's events in her mind, the girl playing a somewhat aloof supervisor who didn't really do anything. Yes... this was very different.

She stood on a plain, clad in a formless white shift and totally unaffected by the fierce heat from all the smouldering peat. It was the first time she had seen such a thing; the place looked like Hell's welcoming mat.

Someone was standing behind her, close enough that she might be able to touch, if she simply turned her palm to it. The Irish sailor did not turn around, for he felt and, oddly enough, smelled of security and safety and the certainty that neither he or anything else would ever be allowed to harm her. And if she did succumb to the temptation of physical reassurance, Jesse had the strange suspicion that she would touch the softest fur in the existence of the natural world.

But her attention was on someone farther ahead.

Dark-haired, armor-clad in the way recognized as used by the Empire (trust me, Jesse knew nothing of how she knew), and looking very, very small compared to the bloody-red dragon crouched protectively over his standing form. He was a magnificent specimen; easily just as large or even larger than the sapphire dragon the sailor knew and loved. 'Thorn', the name came to her easily.

The young man with his back to her started, as though he hadn't sensed her watching him for so long. Looking briefly back a-ways, Jesse could hear the smile in his voice. "Yes, Thorn." The Rider looked up at his partner. "That is a good name." The crimson creature purred his agreement.

Then the image began to fade.

~

Jesse began her day by wandering off to find a place to be alone.

She smiled and nodded to every elf she passed by, and was given a small smile and a nod in return. Her grasp on the ancient language was significant thanks to the efforts of Angela and Arya, so she easily asked for directions when she needed them from a watcher in a tree. They led her to an empty clearing up a nicely rolling hill. It was difficult to judge distance and size because of the gigantic foliage, but the sailor was sure that few people normally went this way. So she sat down on the forest floor and began to think.

It was her own particular brand of meditation; she'd never felt relaxed after emptying her head of everything. Jesse could address every thought and observation that passed through her head as it was and let it continue on its merry way, while her body did that odd thing where her muscles were incredibly relaxed despite being perpetually spine-straightened while sitting cross-legged.

The forest smells nice...

Oooh! A bird just landed on me! Now it's gone.

Hm... I wonder if the elves know that one of the houses is constantly falling apart despite all their spells. Well, it is made of redwood and beech...

Where'd the redwood come from again?

The wind is making my hair feel swishy... Whee! says my hair...

Oommmmm...

Saphira must be quite happy now, seeing as she's not the onl one anymore. Although Eragon seemed kinda happy too...

Miss Arya must certainly be more relaxed at home, now...

Breathing. Relaxed and oh-so-nicely numbing.

Nothing really too stimulating to my external senses... oh yes, that feels nice...

Unbeknown to herself, Jesse began to smile just a little bit as the wind ruffled her hair and the grass seemed to acquire the texture of soft moss under her seat. This was how Maud found her.

The werecat was contented to lie against her side and occasionally tap into the magics around her to monitor the little kit. Tendrils were open, weaving and tangling with the world as all unmindful things do, yet unwinding with the grace and delicacy of an experienced astral-walker. Jesse had nothing but curiosity and enjoyment to derive from the experience, and the world around her responded in kind.

When she came to herself again, several hours later, the sailor was surprised at the amount of time she had spent just sitting on the ground. But it felt good; if she weren't just a little more lazy, she'd have been too giddy to care for maniacal giggles.

Jesse was companionably accompanied by the Dream Dancer the next day, walking about and seeing the sights. Beside paths threaded with Liani vines and wonderful flora, individual elves and rare (note: incredibly, unbelievably, extraordinarily rare) couples worked together on pottery, art, a bit of music sometimes, and just generally look like they were all having a vacation.

Ah, the benefits of magic at your fingertips.

Someone looked to be heating something red just behind the trees by a stream; a glassblower perhaps, with the lack of hammers and tongs needed to handle metal even if one was an elf.

The little blackette was then led to a tree that had to be oldest thing in the world. The height and thickness of the tree made think of Hometree in the movie Avatar, except, well, it was bigger. Roots from the colossal structure blanketed the ground for about a ten-mile radius, making Jesse think somewhat ludicrously that even a dragon could nest comfortably in the branches. Reverently, almost worshipful, Jesse maneuvered around the knots of wood to put a tiny hand against the aged bark. She didn't have to open her mind to imagine what a mountain was thinking about.

"The Menoa tree," Maud announced. "Guardian of Du Weldenvarden and one of the oldest trees in the forest. The elves revere her, as she had been one of their own. Every one hundred years, they remember her tale, long ago when they were more like humans and lived no longer than you did." The girl sat close as the older female properly got into the story.

"Linnea was an elven woman who pursued her garden to the exclusion of all else. Her race was quite populous at the time, so she was allowed to pass her days thus. When her prime passed, she became enamored with a young male and they mated as the elves do. However, he grew tired of her, and later spurned the elf for a younger partner. Enraged, Linnea slew her once-mate, but grew remorseful after the fact.

"In her grief, she traversed deep into the forest, going to the oldest tree she could find, and sang herself into it for three days and nights. Upon the conclusion, she and the tree were one, and thus the Menoa tree began."

Jesse was thoughtful upon the werecat's departure, her job seemingly done. She couldn't imagine killing a man for rejecting her, though admittedly, she couldn't imagine being domestic at all. Life was much too exciting to stay at home and worry about its mundane details. However, she was sure that wasn't what she should be thinking about...

The girl shrugged. Oh well, there was always later.