Andlátkyn; Vandr Sanses unin Alagaësia

Traveling in the Dusky Pines

The days were beautiful and sleepy as they paddled up Eldor Lake and drifted into the Gaena River. The elves were wonderful, and reminded Nightmare of himself and other immortals, which made sense when they themselves were immortal.

Narí and Lifaen were wonderful companions to travel with, always laughing, smiling, singing, praising Saphira, Draco and GB while telling stories of their people. In return, most of the skeletons returned with tales of monsterkind, grinning at the infectious happiness.
Though when they spoke, it was often vauge and full of expressions that the others couldn't comprehend. It was actually entertaining for Nightmare, as he could spend time deciphering the meanings behind their words.

They would also fall silent for hours at a time, meditating. Something Nightmare would do. The skeletons respected the silence, though Dust and Blue brought it up, the comparison.

It was delightful. Nightmare would fall into silence when they did as well, listening to Dream ramble on about whatever captured his fancy, learning more about the elves and who else was in Ellesméra. He learned that Reaper was there, joined by Life and Seraphim as well as a random Monster kid, from Outertale. They called him Spacey and he was enthralled with everyone and everything in Ellesméra, looking up to Life, Dream, and Seraphim. He was precious.

There was also one other thing..
They were slipping into the Ancient Language more often when they spoke, confusing themselves, Eragon and Orik when they did so. The skeletons didn't notice it until someone mentioned it.
Narí and Lifaen didn't mind so much, they would simply converse in kind, until the other realized what they were doing. Nightmare learned from Dream that it was happening to him and the others, too.
In fact, most elves would just speak in their home tongue and they would respond. It was unsettling at first, but they were growing accustomed to it.

The only constant was that the elves preferred to call all of them versions of their names in their language, which they didn't mind at all.

Dream also stumbled upon a secret, soaring above the white cliffs known as Tel'naeír. The elf there made him swear never to reveal it, unless Galbatorix is slain. Dream just spread his wings with a smile, admitting that his brother would automatically know, as they were halves of each other. And that his brother is coming to Ellesméra, with Eragon and Saphira.
The elf revealed that he was Togira Ikonoka, the one that was awaiting them.
It was then that Dream contacted Nightmare, it was then he sent the message that they were traveling up the Gaena River. It was then that he knew the truth.
He'd grinned yet again.

Lifaen was talking to Eragon and Orik about the fall of the Riders, chatting across the canoes.
"Time cannot dull the pain of those wounds, not if a thousand thousand years pass and the sun itself dies, leaving the world to float in eternal night."
Orik grunted. "As it is with the dwarves. Remember, elf, we lost an entire clan to Galbatorix."
"And we lost our king, Evandar."
"I never heard of that." Eragon spoke incredulously.

Lifaen nodded. "Few have. Brom could have told you about it; he was there when the fatal blow was struck. Before Vrael's death, the elves faced Galbatorix on the plains of Ilirea in our final attempt to defeat him. There Evandar-" "Where is Ilirea?" Eragon interrupted.
"It's Urû'baen, boy." Orik answered gruffly. "Used to be an elf city."
Lifaen went on. "As you say, Ilirea was one of our cities. We abandoned it during our war with the dragons, and then, centuries later, humans adopted it as their capital after King Palancar was exiled."
"King Palancar?" Eragon quested. "Who was he? Is that how Palancar Valley got it's name?"
The elf gazed at him, humored by the questions.
"You have as many questions as leaves on a tree, Argetlam."
"Brom was of the same opinion."

"So am I." Nightmare added across the water, smiling to himself. Lifaen smiled back, pausing to think.
He addressed Eragon. "When your ancestors arrived in Alagaësia eight hundred years ago, they roamed far across it, seeking a suitable place to live. Eventually, they settled in Palancar Valley- though it was not called such then- as it was one of the few defendable locations that we or the dwarves had not claimed. There your king, Palancar, began to build a mighty state."
He sighed thoughtfully.
"In an attempt to expand his borders, he declared war against us, though we offered no provocation. Three times he attacked, and three times we prevailed. Our strength frightened Palancar's nobles and they pled with their liege for peace. He ignored their counsel. Then the lords approached us with a treaty, which we signed without the king's knowledge.
With our help, Palancar was usurped and banished, but he, his family, and their vassals refused to leave the valley. Since we had no wish to murder them, we constructed the tower of Ristvak'baen so the Riders could watch over Palancar and ensure he would never again rise to power or attack anyone else in Alagaësia."

Lifaen peered ahead, eyes focused. "Before long Palancar was killed by a son who did not wish to wait for nature to take it's course. Thereafter, family politics consisted of assassination, betrayal, and other depravities, reducing Palancar's house to a shadow of it's former grandeur. However, his descendants never left, and the blood of king's still runs in Therinsford and Carvahall."

Eragon has the blood of kings as well as Riders. Nightmare noted. Fascinating.

"I see." Eragon replied slowly.
"Do you?" Lifaen responded. "It has more significance than you may think. It was this event that convinced Anurin- Vrael's predecessor as head Rider- to allow humans to become Riders, in order to prevent similar disputes."
Orik laughed loudly. "That must have caused some argument."
"It was an unpopular decision." Lifaen admitted. "Even now some question the wisdom of it. It caused such a disagreement between Anurin and Queen Dellanir that Anurin seceded from our government and established the Riders as an independent entity."

"But if Riders were separated from the government, then how could they keep the peace, as they're supposed to?" Eragon quested.
"They couldn't." Said Lifaen. "Not until Queen Dellanir saw the wisdom of having the Riders free of any lord or king and restored their access to Du Weldenvarden. Still, it never pleased her that any authority could supersede her own."
"Wasn't that the whole point, though?" Eragon asked.
"Yes… and no." "So yes, but actually no." Dust commented from another canoe, getting snorts out of the others as they realized everyone was listening to the conversation between elf and human.

Unperturbed, Lifaen continued. "The Riders were supposed to guard against the failings of different governments and races, yet who watched the watchers? It was that very problem that caused the Fall. No one existed who could descry the flaws within the Riders' own system, for they were above scrutiny, and thus, they perished."

"It looks like our humans got the right idea, then." Cross murmured. "How so?" Eragon called out to him. The monochrome skeleton perked up. "Oh, it was more of a thing for individual governments based on fairness and all that; it still had it's own flaws with how those in charge could get in power. But it was balanced. Several branches watch over each other. No kings, but an elected leader for a short while at a time called President in most countries. Regular humans get to pick the President in a vote, based on political views and stuff. There's two other branches, the Houses? And Judges. They all share power, the people in the houses mostly picked by the general public, too. I.. don't know a lot about it, it's human politics from back home; I've forgotten a lot."

There was silence for a minute.
Then, "You have given us much to think about, Blädr-vodhr." Narí spoke quietly.
They spent several minutes paddling in silence.

"Who succeeded Dellanir as king or queen?" Eragon asked yet another question.
"Evandar did. He took the knotted throne five hundred years ago- when Dellanir abdicated in order to study the mysteries of magic- and held it until his death. Now his mate, Islanzadí, rules us."
"That's-" Eragon broke off, thinking.
"Are elves immortal?"
He doesn't know? I'm impressed. And annoyed. But impressed he went so long unaware.

"Once, we were like you, bright, fleeting, and as ephemeral as the morning dew. Now our lives stretch endlessly through the dusty years. Aye, we are immortal, although we are still vulnerable to the injuries of the flesh."
"You became immortal? How?"
Lifaen didn't explain, leaving Nightmare endlessly curious.
How does a race obtain immortality? He pondered. Eragon continued talking to Lifaen, though in quieter voices.

Later that night, as they camped, noises disrupted the night.

Nightmare understood what it was quickly, as it was in pain. He kept silent, though, watching as Eragon, Orik, and Horror went to investigate.
Arya followed shortly after.
The sounds stopped.

They returned, Orik looking grim as Arya appeared cold, Eragon slightly unnerved.

Interesting. He thought to himself, enjoying a small bunch of grapes he'd stored in his inventory by chance.

Arya is unhappy indeed.
…
I don't like that.