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HMJ - Chapter 18
🕑 Added 2024-06-03 20:22:50 +0000 UTCHarry had never seen a forest like Du Weldenvarden; not even the memories he had of the forbidden forest could compare with the magic of this place.
The magic was so abundant here, and wherever he looked, he found new plants that he had never seen before.
He wondered if he could use them for potions, but he didn’t know enough about the craft to truly experiment with completely new and unknown ingredients.
In fact, he didn’t have a mastery skill for potions yet; it wasn’t something he had tried to grind simply because he lacked the ingredients he was familiar with.
Hopefully, the magic he could learn from the elves would help him grow the few seeds he had in his trunk and at least give him some basic ingredients to start with. Potions were powerful, bottled magic, but you needed the necessary knowledge to use them.
This ancient forest was a truly peaceful and magical place. It was strange if you thought about the tyranny the rest of the continent had to endure.
His journey was educating, and Arya was continuing to teach him the ancient language. It was part of her deal, and he would have to keep his own side as well. Contracts were absolute. Even giving him a quest.
[ ~ Contract: Bring Galbatorix down]
Objective: Ensure the downfall of Galbatorix in the next 10 years.
Reward: contractual compensation (ancient language, sword lessons, introductions)
- 2,500,000 EXP
Failure: Death. ]
‘Just good that Galbatorix would die either way in around 2–3 years... But my existence changed things. So I will have to make sure it happens,’ Harry thought. The amount of EXP showed that killing him wasn’t that simple; at his current level of 70, this was almost 4 levels. And it’s just bonus EXP from a quest, not the kill itself. Theoretically, it was a free deal for him if everything went according to plan.
But Arya wasn’t captured by Durza and wouldn’t be with Eragon during his attack. It very well could be that their new Dragon Rider dies during the Battle of Farthen Dûr, a battle just a few months away.
Also, if he stayed back, he wouldn’t be able to reap the rewards of his foreknowledge. Sure, the ancient language was nice and all, but there was so much more.
He already ensured countermeasures for the safety of Eragon by informing the Varden of the Twins, acting as spies for the Empire, and the forthcoming attack. This would allow them to prepare themselves.
First, they had to reach Ellesméra. Du Weldenvarden is the most visited place in the world. It already shocked Arya that his store had actually connected to it; everything Arcane shouldn’t be able to pass through its borders.
Right now, the forest is even more closed off. According to the Elves they met in Sílthrim, one of the major Elven cities, the attack on Arya and her disappearance have hit Queen Islanzadí hard. She completely sealed the forest off, not allowing any communication to leave or enter anymore. To contact Varden, they will need her permission first.
They even received an Elven Escort from Sílthrim, led by an Elf called Laufin, to their capital of Ellesméra, and with that also some very beautiful Steeds. Proud white Stallions, called Folkvír. It was an impressive sight.
According to Laufin, the elves have bred their horses for centuries. No wonder they have such powerful and intelligent ones. They understood the ancient language and would go wherever one told them.
From there, it didn’t take long until they reached their goal. The deeper they rode into Du Weldenvarden, the thicker and larger the trees grew. It meant that they would soon reach Ellesméra.
Suddenly, the strangeness of their surroundings lifted, revealing an elf standing before them, sheathed in a brilliant ray of light that slanted down from the ceiling. He was garbed in flowing robes, with a circlet of silver upon his brow. His face was old, noble, and serene.
Arya had already warned him about what was happening, and he spoke in the Ancient Language, “Greetings Gilderien the Wise, Prince of House Miolandra, wielder of the White Flame of Vándil, and guardian of Ellesméra. I am Harry Potter, Lord of Skagos, a distant land, a wizard, and a merchant. I come in peace and in friendship to open relations with the elves.”
For a moment, the elf watched him before he smiled, closed his eyes, and spread his arms in a gesture of welcome. He held the posture.
“The way is clear,” said Arya. At a soft command, her steed moved forward. They rode around the elf—like water parting at the base of a weathered boulder—and when they had all passed, he straightened, clasped his hands, and vanished as the light that illuminated him ceased to exist.
Gilderien had been guarding the city since the days of the Elves Wars with the Dragons. Nobody was allowed to enter the city without his permission.
As they rode deeper into the city, Harry was impressed by the sight revealing itself in front of him. Ellesméra was truly a wondrous sight—a city of trees.
In fact, the trees were buildings themselves, something that Harry had never seen with his own eyes before.
As if they had grown in the shape of buildings, he had been intellectually aware that he would see something like this; he remembered it from the books, but knowing and seeing are two completely different things.
Eventually, they were welcomed by the inhabitants of the city. Their almond eyes were fixed on Arya, but some also stared at Harry out of interest. All of the elves possessed the same ethereal beauty as Arya.
Seeing her, they bowed in unison and began to laugh in unrestrained happiness. Their voices were so bright.
Arya climbed from her horse and said, “Gánga.” Before turning towards him, I said, “Release your steeds as well. We have no further need for them, and they deserve to rest in our stables.”
Harry was still distracted by the wondrous sights, but he followed her example while watching the city in wonder. For the first time, he was actually happy to have died, starting a new life. If it hadn’t happened, he would have never been able to see such wonders as this.
“How do they make buildings like this?” he asked Arya.
“We sing to the forest in the old tongue and give it our strength to grow in the shape that we desire. All our buildings and tools are made in that manner.”
“Can I do that too?” He asked, interested.
“In time, but I believe you have your own ways too.” She replied as she led him down a cobblestone path, elves watching them from all sides.
“I do, but it’s not so natural and wondrous like these buildings. I shape it afterwards with my magic and will, while you let the trees grow to your wishes.”
The path ended at a net of roots that formed steps, like bare pools of earth. They climbed to a door embedded within a wall of saplings. The door swung open seemingly by itself, revealing a hall of trees. Hundreds of branches melded together to form the honeycombed ceiling. Below, twelve chairs were arrayed along each wall.
In them reposed four-and-twenty elf lords and ladies.
It’s a bit funny; he has the combined life experience of two lives. He has over 50 years of life, and he is right now the person with the least of it in this room. In front of most of them, he was pretty much a toddler.
At the head of the assembly stood a white pavilion that sheltered a throne of knotted roots. Queen Islanzadí sat upon it.
She was as beautiful as an autumn sunset, proud and imperious, with two dark eyebrows slanted like upraised wings, lips as bright and red as holly berries, and midnight hair bound under a diamond diadem. Her tunic was crimson.
Around her hips hung a girdle of braided gold. And clasped at the hollow of her neck was a velvet cloak that fell to the ground in languid folds. Despite her imposing countenance, the queen seemed fragile, as if she concealed great pain.
Harry recognized the resemblance to Arya. And he was a bit nervous right now. A lot of his current future plans for his own people depended on leaving a good impression with the Queen.
On her left hand was a curved rod with a chased crosspiece. A brilliant-white raven perched on it, shuffling impatiently from foot to foot. He cocked his head and surveyed Eragon with uncanny intelligence, then gave a long, low croak and shrieked, “Wyrda!”
Was he of the same race as the Ravens Westeros used when the Maester announced the coming of Winter? Probably not. Harry’s affinity for magic told him that it was highly penetrated by magic.
The door closed behind them, and then Arya knelt on the moss-covered ground and bowed first, followed by their elf escort. The only one remaining standing was Harry.
He wouldn’t kneel before the leader of a different nation; it was unfit since he was representing his own people as their leader. The only reason he kneeled in front of Eddard Stark was to ensure the safety of his people.
Islanzadí stood and descended from the throne, her cloak trailing behind her. She stopped before Arya, placed trembling hands on her shoulders, and said in a rich vibrato, “Rise.”
Arya did, and the queen scrutinized her face with increasing intensity until it seemed as if she were trying to decipher an obscure text.
At last, Islanzadí cried out and embraced Arya, saying, “O my daughter, I have wronged you!”
