Andlátkyn; Vandr Sanses unin Alagaësia

Skeletal Trees

Day one since they left Tarnag, Eragon tried learning the dwarves' names, which inspired Nightmare and the others to do the same.
Ama, Ornthrond, Hedin, Dûthmér, Ekksvar, Gáldnien, Shrrgnien, Tríhga, and Thorv.

Nightmare mostly remained silent throughout the day, enjoying the scenery next to Eragon, GB and Saphira often playing with each other. It was the first time GB had revealed wings, capable of summoning the skeletal limbs with thin, bluish membrane stretched between the bones. He had flown into the sky and stunned everyone present. The skeletons had known he could summon wings, but this was their first time seeing the event.

GB and Saphira wove around each other high above the ground, both teaching each other aerial acrobatics and playing. Nightmare even sensed some flirtatious banter between them, a little concerned. He had been familiar with Saphira's pangs of loneliness.

Eventually Orik sat down next to Eragon, who was beside Nightmare as they watched the trees go by.
"It's beautiful." Eragon spoke reverently.
"That it is." Orik grunted kindly, lighting his pipe. A few minutes passed in silence, the time filled with the creaking of wood and rope, chirping of birds, chattering of cicadas, croaks of bullfrogs.

"Orik, can you tell me why Brom joined the Varden? I know so little about him. For most of my life, he was just the town storyteller." Eragon initiated conversation. Nightmare tuned in, opening himself up to his connection with Dream as they still grew accustomed to it. He'd learned to open and close it when he wanted, and preferred to open it up when he wanted his twin to hear or see something. Dream was weighing on his mind in an instant, excitedly curious.

"He never joined the Varden; he helped found it." Orik explained, rapping some ash into the water.
"After Galbatorix became king, Brom was the only Rider still alive, outside of the Forsworn."
"But he wasn't a Rider, not then. His dragon was killed in the fighting at Doru Araeba."
"Well, a Rider by training." Orik amended. "Brom was the first to organize the friends and allies of the Riders who had been forced into exile. It was he who convinced Hrothgar to allow the Varden to live in Farthen Dûr, and he who obtained the elves' assistance."

They lapsed back to silent observation of the day.
Who is this Brom? How do you know him? Dream quested across their bond.
He travelled with Eragon up until we arrived. Then he was killed by a poisoned knife. A few memories flickered across his consciousness, somber. I have reason to believe he may have been related to Eragon..
I'd like to contact Error about this, but I'd rather you listened, Brother.
Error..? So he is with you.
No, he stayed behind with his family in Farthen Dûr. He gave us something with which we can contact him with. Can you keep silent while I speak to him, Dream?
I will. I'd like to listen.
... Thank you.

He glanced at Eragon and Orik, and was about to reach out through the magic in the armband when Eragon asked another question, forcing him to pause and listen again.
"Why did Brom relinquish the leadership?"
Orik grinned to himself. "Perhaps he never wanted it. It was before Hrothgar adopted me, so I saw little of Brom in Tronjhiem.... He was always off fighting the Forsworn or engaged in one plot or another."
A pause.
"Your parents are dead?"
"Aye. The pox took them when I was young, and Hrothgar was kind enough to welcome me into his hall and, since he has no children of his own, to make me his heir."

They quieted, peaceful. Nightmare waited a minute before touching his armband with his right hand. He sent his magic down the internal connection until he found what he was looking for.
An aching consciousness that rolled like an endless ocean, fizzling distantly with the occasional glitching sound echoing in the darkness. Nightmare chose to enter it, letting Dream experience the lonely plains of this god's mind. Musical notes thrummed, like long cords had been drawn taut before snapped, glitching as they vibrated. Higher notes whined, zipping throughout the mindscape like wailing violins. Dream was aghast at the eerie sadness, yet all the while intrigued by the strange beauty.