"It's only after we've lost everything that we're free to do anything."
-Chuck Palahniuk
When All Is Forgotten
Chapter 1: Sitting in Your Tree
The morning was crisp and the sun still low on the horizon, but the small village was already awake and bustling. Carvahall, it was called.
The village didn't have more than a hundred people and it was situated in a valley far north of anything important on the map. So far north in fact, that all who heard of it –though there were not many- thought it daft to put a city in such a place. It was common knowledge that the farther north, the less food and more predators. Of course there were other little villages north of even Carvahall, but they were even less heard of than it.
And so, in a place so far and dangerous, who would leave… a child.
That was the thought that ran through the local blacksmith's mind as he listened to the wails of the babe situated in front of his door. He questioned whether it was right to close the door on the child; pretend he hadn't heard it or seen it.
But then… he peeked back into the house and cursed himself as the telltale sound of footsteps rang down the stairs.
It was too late to pretend. His wife, Elain would be there soon. She must have heard the crying and decided to find out what the commotion was.
"Horst dear, who is it?" Her voice held a tone of worry and he felt himself soften as he watched her smooth out her dress skirt and wring her hands nervously.
Horst looked back at the baby, feeling his amusement give way to grim decisiveness. "No one." He replied calmly, swinging the door shut.
The slam only made the child scream louder and she moved forward, passed him, and attempted to open the door. She was stopped when he grabbed it after it opened only a crack and fixed her with a hard look, "Elain, we cannot keep it."
Her eyes narrowed and she again tried to pull the door open, stubbornly continuing until, finally, Horst gave in for fear that she would hurt herself and the door opened.
One look at the wailing infant and she melted, scooping the baby into her arms and cooing.
Horst knew he was screwed, but he still had to try, "Elain, we don't have the money…"
A glare was thrown his way and she pulled the baby tight to her chest, "We can't let it die."
"Its parents could come back."
A sweet smile thinly masked the killing intent in her eyes as she nodded, "And we'll take care of her until they do."
Even after agreeing with her, Horst worried that if the parents did come back, his wife would still refuse to let go of the infant.
She had always wanted a girl.
"Coming through!" A girl's voice rang clearly through the air and all who heard it stopped to glance up. They shook their heads or laughed as a bright-eyed teenager dodged through the small crowd.
A smile was wide on her lips and long, wavy black hair smacked the village storyteller in the face; earning a scowl from under his wickedly hooked nose. She stopped momentarily, turning to smile sheepishly, "Sorry, Brom!" then continued on her quest.
She bobbed and weaved through the village occupants until the sweet sound of steel against steel met her ears. She smiled to herself and snuck between two houses, getting onto her knees; she crawled behind a large crate and peeked out spy on her victims.
Baldor and Albriech were testing out swords that their father had crafted only a few days ago. The early morning sun shone brightly on their sweaty tan skin as they battled it out –poorly, but still fascinating to the girl- under their father's watchful eye.
"Stop," he finally said, gesturing for them to separate, "These should work."
The girl out a soft sigh and got up from her post, 'Oh well, it was fun while it lasted.'
She snuck back out as Horst, her guardian and the closest thing she had to a father, began to briefly chide the boys on how close their blows were. Even pulling their punches, sharp steel doesn't forgive a mistake.
"Have you seen that sister of yours today?" Horst finally said, clearly exasperated and the words caught her attention; making her pause in her escape.
Baldor smiled sheepishly, "Kagome ran off before mom could even get a word in edge wise."
Sister?!
A smile crept onto her face.
Kagome was an orphan. Her parents –whoever they were- had left her on Horst's doorstep as a baby and he was generous enough to take care of her. For that, she knew she could never repay him; try as she might. So to hear him refer to her as SISTER to HIS children… it was almost like he thought of her as a daughter.
!
A fierce blush rose to her cheeks and she ducked out of the alley, inwardly snorting. Like THAT would ever happen. Heaving a sigh, her shoulders slumped as she walked. 'Horst is too kind to leave a child in the gutters; but that doesn't mean I mean anything to him. He's a friendly guy that's all…'
The truth was cold, harsh, and unforgiving, but it was reality and she wouldn't trick herself into believing something different.
So she squared her shoulders, gave a cheerful smile and laughed away the concerns of a villager whom had stopped to check on her, and walked away with a skip in her step. Not because she was actually happy mind you, but because she didn't want to worry anyone.
She kept the smile up as she moved, but her mind raced through different activities that she could busy herself with to calm her thoughts. Finally, her eyes lit up with real joy as she remembered something.
A small smile crept to her face and she took off running; giggling as she went.
This time, not one person paid it any mind. She was struck with the zest of youth, they knew, oh what fun it is to be young.
Kagome was oblivious to the world; her eyes concentrated solely on her task, a little pink tongue darting out of her mouth and her cheeks puffed up like a beaver.
Nimble fingers worked vigorously, twining and moving stems in order to create perfection. It simply had to be flawless.
'There, done.'
She sat back on her heels and examined her work only to huff and lean in again, untwining and rewinding.
"Morning Kagome. It's a fine day isn't it?"
Kagome blinked, her eyes snapping from her carefully gathered flowers to look at the owner of the voice. "Oh, hello Horst." She replied happily and a smile graced her lips, "Yes it is, the breeze is just right!"
He chuckled, "Those flowers are beautiful. Who're you arranging them so enticingly for?" His question was innocent, but it had the undertones of mischief. He knew exactly who they were for.
"Eragon said he would be returning today!" Kagome chirped and -unaware of the friendly blacksmith's hidden amusement- began to hum as she grabbed a purple flower and matched it with a white.
They had to be perfect.
"The boy is becoming more handsome by the day if I recall." Horst's lips twitched but he forced it down, "Wouldn't you agree?"
"Yes, yes." She nodded along, now so focused on her arranging that she was mostly ignoring him.
"And I suppose you'll want to marry him when you come of age?" A few citizens of Carvahall had stopped in order to hear the conversations, all smothering smiles or shaking their heads.
Kagome was the village sweetheart, always going out of her way to help another villager or make the children smile.
…But they still found her naïve nature to be comical.
Especially right now.
"Of course, Horst. You know how it-"She paused from her twining and seemed to freeze as his words penetrated the walls of her thick skull.
Slowly but surely, a blush blossomed on her face until the soft, dusty pink became a raging inferno. "H-Horst!" She crowed, both shocked and embarrassed by his question.
'Why I ought to… I ought to throw these flowers at his head!'
Looking down regretfully at the banquet, she decided perhaps not these flowers.
But some kind of flower!
"Don't tease the girl Horst," a rumbling voice muttered behind her, clearly he'd just been passing by, "Or you'll set the idea in her head."
The blush on her face deepened, "Brom, lovely to see you."
"I'm sure it is." He replied, nodding her way. "Are those flowers to congratulate Eragon on a successful hunt?"
She nodded and her flush subsided, "Yeah."
Brom rolled his eyes, being one of the few in the village that didn't particularly like her. He was old and wise and he knew her type. At the first sign of trouble she would be running for the hills. Besides, she was too… cheery for his tastes. "And if he brings nothing back?"
"It'll be to congratulate his return."
Brom gave pause and inwardly deliberated, before muttering lowly to himself and telling her, "I saw him walk into Sloan's earlier; if you hurry along he may still be there." He nodded to her once again and went on his way, which was now made clear by a few small creatures tucked in his belt.
Kagome's head snapped in the direction of her least favorite butcher shop and was surprised to see Katrina – Sloan's daughter – running toward them like a bat out of hell.
"Horst," she whispered, both breathless and panicked, "Come quickly! My father is being stubborn with Eragon. H-he won't sell to him. They're close to blows!"
Kagome trailed behind, worrying like a mother hen, and they made their way to Sloan's butcher shop.
When they reached the door, Horst winked at Kagome, straightened himself, and then proceeded to make a show of slamming the door open. Snorting, Kagome searched the shop for something more interestin- there. She caught a glance at her crushes –because she was undoubtedly crushing- back while he whirled around and made eye contact with Horst.
Eragon.
Even now, caught up in mischief and having been on the hunt for days, he was handsome. He stood two or three inches taller than her and his frame, however skinny, was lithe. His brown eyes were always sparkling with the same trouble he was creating and his hair was the color of darkened gold.
But it was not his looks that made her gravitate toward him, no… it was the shit eating grin that could usually be found on his face.
Like right now, in this serious situation, he sent her that smirk, nodded to her, and just like that; she melted.
Katrina's father glanced at the group wearily, "He won't-"
"Quiet," announced Horst. "Sloan, what have you done now?"
"Nothing," he shot Eragon a glare, spitting, "This… boy came in here and started badgering me! He won't budge no matter how much I tell him to leave. I even threatened him and he STILL wouldn't go!" Sloan seemed to shrink into himself the longer he looked at Horst.
Of course, Kagome mused, he couldn't be blamed for that. Horst was a sweet, funny man… but he was also big and threatening looking. He was Carvahall's smith, as his thick neck and scarred leather apron attested. His powerful arms were bare to the elbow; a great expanse of hairy muscular chest was visible through the top of his shirt. He even had a black beard, carelessly trimmed, roiled and knotted like his jaw muscles.
Overall, a very intimidating man, especially if you were on his bad side.
And more so if you were someone as small as Sloan.
Sloan was not only short in stature, but small in build. The only thing threatening about him was the blood staining his white cotton shirt and smock; though the large collection of knives that swung from his belt were also menacing.
"Is that true?" the smith demanded.
"No!" Eragon hissed, looking put out, "I offered this stone as payment for some meat and he accepted. When I told him I found it in the Spine he refused to even touch it! What difference does it make where it came from?"
"None at all." Kagome cut in, giving a hard, but unthreatening glare –due to her big eyes and tiny arms- to Sloan. "Why won't you sell to Eragon?"
"I don't need to explain myself to you runt!" He spit in return, his face turning red in his ire.
"Sloan," cut in Horst, "I've no love of the Spine myself, but why not sell to the boy?"
Now properly distraction from the woman he detested, Sloan shot him a grumpy look and licked his lips, "This is my store; I can do what I want."
Katrina stepped out from behind Kagome and flipped her auburn hair, "Father, Eragon will pay! Just give him the meat and we can go have dinner."
"Go back to the house; this is none of your business… I said go!"
Katrina's face hardened and she marched out of the room with a stiff back.
Disapproval was clear on Eragon's face and Horst tugged on his beard before saying reproachfully, "Fine, you can deal with me. What were you going to get, Eragon?" His voice reverberated through the room.
"As much as I could."
Horst pulled out a purse and counted out a pile of coins. "Give me your best roasts and steaks. Make sure that it's enough to fill Eragon's pack." The butcher hesitated, his gaze darted between Horst, Kagome, and Eragon. "Not selling to me would be a very bad idea," stated Horst.
With a glare, Sloan left to head into the back room. There was frenzy of chopping and low cursing. Finally, after a series of uncomfortable minutes, he returned with an armful of wrapped meat. His face was expressionless as he accepted Horst's money, and then proceeded to clean his knife as if they were not there.
Horst scooped up the meat in his arms and walked outside.
Kagome grabbed one roast, stuck her tongue out at Sloan –who brought his knife down hard on a piece of meat nearby as if to answer- and followed Eragon outside.
The crisp night air rolled over their faces, refreshing after the stuffy shop.
"Thank you, Horst. Uncle Garrow will be pleased."
Horst shook his head, chuckling, "I've wanted to do that for a long time. Sloan's a troublemaker; it'll do him some good to be humbled.
They spent some time chatting –as well as arguing whether or not Eragon would take the meat back or Horst would take a strange rock- until Kagome's interest was perked by mention of Roran.
"-can you get it to her?"
"Of course."
"He wants her to know he will be in town when the merchants come, he will see her then."
"That's all?"
Eragon blushed, embarrassed, "No, he also wants her to know that she is the most beautiful girl he has seen and he thinks of nothing else."
Horst's face broke into a sly grin and he winked at Eragon, "Getting serious now isn't he?"
"Yes, sir."
"Don't you think it's 'bout time you got serious with a nice young girl, Eragon?" A teasing eyebrow was raised and Eragon's cheeks turned even pinker.
"G-Give Katrina my thanks. It was awfully bold of her to risk her father's punishment for me. Roran would have my head had anything happened to her."
Horst chuckled, amused by the seventeen year old's quick diversion, "Alright, but know that she'll be fine. Sloan doesn't know she came to find me so I doubt he'll be too hard on her. Before you go, will you have supper with us?" He gestured to Kagome and himself with a fond smile.
The look Eragon sent him was truly regretful, "I'm sorry, I cannot. Garrow is expecting me." He tied off the top of his pack and hoisted it onto his shoulders. "B-But… if you wouldn't be opposed to it sir, Garrow had asked that Kagome come back with me if she was awake." He flushed, this time a little more pink than red and much harder to see in the dark.
"Well I am awake." Kagome replied good-naturedly, having cut in before her guardian, Horst, could reply. "I suppose it wouldn't be too much trouble to walk down the road with you and stay a while." She shot the blacksmith a pleading glance.
"Well," the big man replied, "As long as she's back before three days' time." He looked at her sternly, "Don't forget about the order I asked you to help me with."
She nodded happily and went to Eragon's side. "Of course, I'm not that scatterbrained."
With that, Eragon hefted his pack up again and sent a farewell gesture Horst's way while Kagome waved frantically.
Kagome looked to Eragon and smiled, "Shall we be on our way?"
ns 15.158.61.20da2
