I watched silently as the other three guests of the elves dealt with the revelation of another Rider and dragon, casually going over their appearances.

The golden dragon was massive. Easily three times as large as Saphira. It was like a small hill had decided to run around covered in shiny metal scales. It was almost enough to distract from the fact he was missing a good bit of his left foreleg, the end of it simply stopping in a nub of white scar tissue. He was beautiful though, if a little gaudy in my opinion, and it was a little funny that his Rider seemed to prefer plain, undecorated clothes despite his partner's coloration.

Not that the Rider wasn't striking in his own way. The elf moved with the same fluid grace I had seen in all of them so far and was a perfect example of fitness and physical health. Even with the plain outfit and unassuming face, he gave off the same feeling as a big cat stalking through its territory. In fact the only sign of age on him was his pure silver hair and the heaviness in his eyes from seeing far too much over the years.

Eragon and Saphira seemed to be flip flopping between disbelief and awe at the pair's arrival. Orik just seemed understandably pissed at the secrecy regarding Glaedr and his Rider Oromis. To him the elves had hidden away a massive trump card the Varden sorely needed.

His anger was placated at the reveal that the giant golden dragon wasn't the only part of the pair that was crippled – the missing left forelimb got several more glances – but that Oromis himself had lost the ability to cast anything but the smallest of spells after being held captive by some of the Forsworn, traitor Riders that sided with Galbatorix during the Fall.

In fact Orik wasn't the only one pissed off at the Rider.

Islanzadí didn't take the revelation that Oromis had been aware of Eragon's existence and Arya's survival and had chosen to not tell her very well. To my quiet amusement the elven Rider told her off in an incredibly polite manner that basically boiled down to 'I'm not going to do your job for you', much to the queen's chagrin, since it was by her order that the elves closed themselves off and turned away any messengers.

Oromis turned and went back to his dragon, nimbly climbing into the saddle. "Come, Eragon and Saphira. We have much to talk about." Then his eyes drifted to me. "I will need to speak to you later as well, young healer."

And then they were off. Glaedr leaping off the cliff and flying away without giving me the opportunity to ask any questions of my own with the younger Rider pair following soon after.

"And we couldn't have talked right now, because…?" I muttered pointlessly aloud. They were long gone already.

"The Shur'tugal [Dragon Rider] has his reasons, I'm sure." Islanzadí sniped, though I mentally noted she seemed just as annoyed with the Rider as I was. "I must return to my duties. Arya? Will you join me?"

"…no Mother, I think I will roam the city and see what has changed. It's been some time since I could wander without a purpose in mind." Arya denied after a small pause. Islanzadí was obviously not pleased, but she said nothing.

"Something wrong?" I asked gently, knowing this was a sensitive topic.

"Eragon continues to be far too open with me about his emotions." Arya replied, deliberately misinterpreting me. "It may be problematic."

I could only shrug at her. Teenage hormones weren't one of the things I could help her with.

I was saved from even trying to respond to that by Orik stomping his way over. "A Rider, Axe and Stones! Can you believe it? And now I'm stuck with knowledge I can't share with others. The problems we could have avoided just by knowing there was someone else…" he grumbled.

"We couldn't risk it." Arya said. "If Galbatorix knew someone survived the Fall…"

"Aye, I understand. I don't like it but I understand. It just rankles that I cannot tell my King something this important."

"As a consolation why don't I show you both around the city?" Arya offered. "It may not be a solution for your irritation, but it may soothe it."

With that the three of us headed back into the forest, listening as Arya began to tell us the various importance of several buildings along the way.

-o-

It was pretty late into the evening when a slight presence brushed against my defenses. Nothing intrusive, just a bit of pressure telling me someone was poking around.

"It's rather rude to poke around where you aren't wanted, you know?" I called out into the air.

"My apologies," Oromis replied, casually walking into the open. "I meant no offense. It is common for visitors to lightly announce themselves when they are unsure if they are wanted. I just wanted to make you aware of my presence."

"Well, I'm aware. How can I help you tonight Rider Oromis?" I asked, offering him a seat. One he gracefully took. "I thought you would summon me when you wanted to talk."

I was actually a little surprised at his visit. If there was one thing that tended to be true about hermit-like mentors, it was that they rarely went back into civilization unless it was required. Oromis didn't strike me as the arrogant type but he definitely seemed like the kind of person to prefer his home in the wilderness. Not to mention how impatient he had seemed to begin training Eragon.

I was expecting a meeting in a few days at least. Not him showing up in front of me like this.

"As much as I prefer to be away from the city for my own peace and clarity of mind, I do not mind visiting once in a while." Oromis replied. "And it's unlikely I will have much time to spend elsewhere until Eragon's training is complete or he is requested elsewhere."

Ah, so this was just the easiest time to meet and he didn't want me stumbling around in the dark trying to reach his house.

"And as much as I would like to spend time in idle conversation, I must return soon to prepare for tomorrow's lesson." Oromis continued. "What can you tell me about Eragon's injury? He mentioned you came along specifically to assist with that."

I sighed and leaned back into my chair. This wasn't a topic I was particularly eager to dig into.

"In a word? He's cursed."

Oromis said nothing but was certainly giving me his full attention.

"I've been able to identify three aspects to the curse. First, it triggers extreme pain along the cut if he strains himself too much. Healing the scar won't do anything, it's not anchored that way. Second, when the curse triggers, it will try to keep Eragon lucid and aware of the pain as long as possible. Knocking him unconscious is possible but he won't do so himself. And third, there is a mental aspect to it. It grows stronger the more fearful Eragon is of it." I paused. "Or it triggers more easily, I haven't exactly figured that part out yet."

"Have you tried removing it?"

I shook my head. "As I am right now, attempting that will kill Eragon. It's too intertwined with his soul."

"Is that so? How unfortunate." Oromis hummed. I raised an eyebrow at that.

"That's it? No screaming about how souls don't exist or can't be the anchor of a spell? That there is a more logical explanation I'm just unaware of?" I asked. "Arya and I have some pretty intense debates over it so I'd figure you would be skeptical as well."

"As talented as she is, Arya is still very young." The Rider said with a small smile. "There are many mysteries of the gramyre she is unaware of and I have witnessed much more than her. Besides that, it seems your own magic does not follow the same principles as our established methods. Creating tangible blades from nothing? Enchanted ones on top of that? I've only seen dragons perform similar feats. So if you are confident in your diagnosis, I will trust you know what you speak of."

My lips twitched at that. The old Rider was surprisingly reasonable.

"In that case will you humor a particularly invasive question from a healer?" I asked. "It's been bothering me for a while now."

"Ask. If I cannot answer I will not hold it against you."

"Why is Glaedr still missing a limb? I know there are many elven healers capable of fleshshaping at least. Even if the energy requirements are massive you've had a century to restore it."

Oromis's face went blank.

After he said nothing for several seconds I started to think I might have pushed a bit too much and was ready to apologize. But the elder Rider responded before I could get the first word out.

"You would be curious about that wouldn't you?" He said thoughtfully. "You are right. Even if we were limited to just the healers in this city we should have been able to restore my partner's limb by now."

"Then why haven't you?"

"At first, pride." Oromis said bitterly. "We were confident that my own injury would be healed and I would tend to him myself. But as the years went on and it became clear I was unable to grasp anything but the smallest of magics it became a matter of impracticality."

Impracticality? To heal one of the last remaining dragons free from Galbatorix? I couldn't think of any reason Oromis or Glaedr would be content to leave an injury like that in place.

"Our defenses were completely srtipped away when I was captured." He continued. "I was forced to layer countless weak spells as often as I was able in order to rebuild them thinking I could redo them properly later. In my haste, I neglected to think things through completely and made no allowances for others to work magics on us without triggering my new wards."

Oh.

Now I saw what he meant.

"So in order to begin healing Glaedr's leg you would need to strip all of your wards away again and then start from scratch."

Oromis nodded.

"Yes. Forty years had gone by before we felt safe that Galbatorix and his agents would not march on Du Weldenvarden. But we could not take the risk of him moving again when we would be so vulnerable."

So they had just left it alone instead. Not the choice I would have made but I suppose the golden dragon had become accustomed to it by then.

Oromis stood and lightly dusted his hands. "The hour grows late and I believe I have begun to overstay my welcome. Thank you for the explanation of Eragon's malady. I will make sure to keep what you mentioned in mind."

I was a little surprised he was leaving so soon but not much. But what was surprising was…

"You didn't want me to look at your own injury?" I couldn't help but ask.

He paused. "I have long since accepted that I will bear the mark of my injury until my final days. So I had not even thought to ask." Oromis admitted. "Though I suppose it would not hurt to have a new perspective, perhaps…" He trailed off, but I could still see the glimmer of hope in his eyes.

Without another word I offered a hand, which he accepted, and analyzed him with Structural Analysis.

Since the Rider wasn't a weapon I didn't get much assistance from my soul-shard ability in terms of understanding the information I was getting. I had to mentally shift through every scar, every imperfection, all the way down to the cellular level and a bit beyond to the point I could even see the metaphysical connection to his magic that connected to his magic before I found what was wrong.

It was hard to put into words exactly – not surprising since metaphysical representations of magical pseudo-organs were hard to describe in even basic terms – but the best way to describe it was that the Rider's capacity to transfer the energy his spells demanded had been crippled. Like someone had stretched and cracked his soul's connection until it was barely functional. Any time he used magic would be like trying to fill a bucket with massive holes in the walls and a crack along the bottom. Sure he could fill it a little before the bucket naturally drained – allowing him to use small spells – but anything beyond that the vessel simply couldn't fill fast enough to do much else.

I had seen worse damage of course. I saw worse than that everytime I looked at myself after all.

This was easily the worst I had seen in another, though. Even Eragon's was simpler if harder to treat given the entwined nature of the curse and my own injuries.

But what fascinated me was that there were signs of healing in a couple places. At first I was confused since if there was an effective treatment, why did they stop? But then I realized that the elven healers likely didn't have a way to directly analyze the soul like I did.

I wasn't sure how long I stayed like that, constantly investigating the healing parts. If I could identify what caused that… I might be able to apply it to myself.

Apparently I took too long though, because Oromis began to draw back his hand. "You don't need to trouble yourself over this. As I said, I have long acce–" "I can heal it." I interrupted.

The silver-haired elf's eyebrows went up at that.

"I can see parts where the damage was repaired. It was stopped, likely because no one knew it was working, but they are there." I said, deadly serious. "I don't suppose your healers took notes on what was attempted?"

"I–, yes. But the records are unavailable to others." the Rider muttered, still stunned by my response.

"But that can change right?" I asked, almost desperate at getting the chance to study a soul-mending method. Even if it was an accidental one.

"...I'll have someone sent to you tomorrow. You can discuss it with them."