For Alagaesia: 54. The monkey mind

Human mind is a fickle thing. It throws up something at you when you least expect it to. Its working is so erratic that at times you start to doubt if it is even you thinking what you think or if some monster has occupied your mind and was thinking for you. It makes you laugh at the most desperate moment and makes you look all gloomy during the happiest of times. Nasuada was grappling with such a state of her mind.

It was late in the night, when she had reached Dras-Leona half-dead. The cold conditions of the slopes of the Spine had rendered her brain useless and she had come into the city mumbling like an idiot. The first thing she did after she was treated, thankfully with magic(it was fast and painless), was what made her feel as she felt.

In her absence the council of elders had taken control of the town. How much ever, she hated their power-mongering, they had done a really good work of convincing the city that order would be maintained. And thankfully, they didn’t make any scene when Nasuada returned. They had asked Trianna to inspect Nasuada’s mind for ‘corruption’ and when the sorceress had declared her clean, they left noiselessly out of the place. Eragon’s speech, it seemed, had affected them or atleast subdued them.

And that was when Nasuada remembered Eragon. She literally ran to Blodhgarm in pitch black of the night and asked him if Eragon was notified of her ‘absence’.

The furry elf had raised his eye brows at her use of the word ‘absence’ and had informed her that a runner was sent as soon as she was ‘captured’ to Du Weldenvarden with the message.

Nasuada didn’t know what she felt when Blodhgarm said that. It was relief, she was sure. But, why she should be relieved that Eragon wasn’t aware of her ‘absence’(she refused to take the morning’s events as her ‘capture’), she knew not.

Partly to veer Blodhgarm away from her confused feelings and partly out of real concern for the elf, Nasuada had asked, “Are you well, Blodhgarm? That was a nasty fall, this morning.”

“I am quite well, svit-kona. Thank you.”, he had said.

Nasuada was amazed at how the elf brushed away his brush with death like it was not a matter worth discussing. But her mind took her back to the very topic for which she had gone to see Blodhgarm.

“Eragon Shadeslayer would be quite busy with his duties. Wouldn’t he be?”, Nasuada ventured cautiously.

The blue-furred elf frowned at her, confused. He nevertheless answered her. “Yes, Nasuada Svit-kona. He would be. The seeking of a rider is a taxing job indeed.”

‘Blast it!! Why are you afraid like a rodent under an eagle’s stare, Nasuada? You have done no wrong and you don’t intend to. Just voice your thoughts!!’, Nasuada thought and said, “I don’t think it is necessary to worry Eragon with news of my absence, Blodhgarm. It will only serve to distract him. Could you please call the runner back?”

The elf looked at her incredulously. Nasuada pushed back the urge to wince. ‘You are doing the right thing’, she kept on assuring herself.

Blodhgarm had accepted her choice(not that he approved) and had asked the elf who was deployed to inform Eragon, Saphira and Arya about her capture to return back to Dras-Leona. Nasuada could only guess how angry the elf might be at her for making him run alone in the winter across Alagaesia for nothing. But she was not in the mood to think about it in detail or ask for the forgiveness of the elf.

Having done that she had returned back to her room in Dras-Leona’s castle amid huge security arrangements by Blodhgarm. The night-hawks had been beefed up to twice its earlier size of eight and numerous soldiers dotted the alleyway to her quarters. But she paid no attention to any of it. Her mind was jumping from one feeling to another like a monkey would do in a forest filled with trees. Her actions felt wrong and right at the same time to her.

One moment she would feel guilty and the next second she would be relieved and then she would be angry with herself and then feel a sort of bliss and then confused and then empty and then sad and so on.

Such a state of her mind was what made her think that somebody else was controlling her thoughts. She had not felt such huge torrents of emotions since her father’s untimely demise and the events following that. Only one person was common to then and now: Murtagh.

Nasuada resolutely pushed away any thought about the dragon rider from her mind. But they came back with even greater strength to haunt her.

Ajihad had put Murtagh in jail for nothing but his ancestry. It was Nasuada who had taken pity on the young man and had spoken to her father to release him. Everything that followed was a consequence of that action by her.

She had sympathised with Murtagh back then at Tronjheim and had asked Ajihad to help him. The repercussions of that action proved that it was the height of stupidity. It had cost the lives of King Hrothgar and Eragon’s teachers and had brought about an enemy whom the Varden hated and feared as much as Galbatorix himself. And she was sympathising with him again, now. She knew it was dangerous. Yet she couldn’t do otherwise: the look on Murtagh’s face when he eyed Thorn spoke volumes of a compassionate, young, strong, bold and rather lovable man. How could she ever not sympathise with him? Thorn’s brave, raw and powerful words would not allow her not to.

She wasn't one who would be affected by petty emotions. Her sense of politics and justice were above them. Emotional responses, she had discovered right when she was asked to helm the Varden, were the death-knell for any leader. But then, Thorn's words, especially his tone, weren't exactly petty. They were the expression of the truest, strongest and rawest of emotions. They weren't the kind one could ignore and move on. Rather, they were the ones that would stick to one's mind and refuse to go away until addressed to. Like the revenge she was dying to get for her father's death. The vengeance against Galbatorix was one main reason for her to accept leadership of the Varden, beside from her genuine wish to help the people, her father had helped. And it was certainly the driver behind her aggressive push towards Uru'baen. With her father's death, she had made her choice: she would either bring down Galbatorix or die trying.

Thorn's words had instilled such a feeling in her and had left a lasting impression. But the difference was her reluctance to accept the urge to act on the feeling unlike with her father's death.

‘Get a grip, woman!!’, Nasuada chided herself. It was a one-off occurrence that would just fade away from her mind in time, she hoped. A day long walk, preceded by unprecedented events, was not enough to bring sleep to Nasuada. Still unable to digest the fact that she had avoided informing Eragon of her meeting with Murtagh, Nasuada tossed and turned on her bed.

'What would Thorn be going through now?', she thought. The red dragon had provided her his warmth and had literally helped her from being killed or worse being dragged to Uru'baen. Murtagh's words rang in her mind, “But Thorn....”

It was clear that Galbatorix would vent his anger at losing Eragon and the dragon egg and failing to recapture them back at Thorn. She had seen what Galbatorix's handling could do to people: Eragon was the best example. The Shadeslayer's move from a cheerful, young and good-natured man/elf to a grumpy, old-looking, closed elf/man had disturbed her greatly. And Galbatorix was responsible for bringing about such a change in him. She was afraid for Thorn – and Murtagh because they were to suffer on account of her.

“My lady!!!”, somebody's surprised voice called, startling her. Her closed eyes flew open and her hand reached out to the dagger she always kept ready by her bedside. But then she realised that there was none in the room. Confused, she sighed heavily thinking it was yet another game her mind was playing with her.

“My lady... in the mirror”, the person's voice said again sounding a little uncomfortable. Nasuada turned to the mirror and found Roran in it completely dishevelled and bloody.

“Roran? What?”, she said, a sort of guilt rising inside of her. She had not thought of contacting Roran, although she did think about his mission during her utterly devastating walk back to Dras-Leona from the shores of Leona and slopes of Spine. Judging from his appearance and expression, she feared the worst. 'Had our, no my, plan backfired?', she thought.

“My lady, I... I was not expec... No... I was informed that you were captured.”, Roran said.

“I managed to escape, Roran.”, Nasuada said shortly.

“But how.... Its great.... still ….. That monster of a man and that brutal dragon!! Even Eragon couldn't escape them!”, Roran said. He sounded surprised and shocked at her answer.

But the way he spoke of Murtagh and Thorn, as if they were disgusting creatures, was unacceptable to her. “Ah, yes, Roran. It should have been impossible. Shouldn't it be? Considering that man is your cousin and all?”, Nasuada asked back in a flash.

Immense hurt and then anger flashed across Roran's face. Nasuada regretted her words. Roran had meant well and she had hurt his sentiments.

But when he spoke, he showed neither of the emotions. “I am glad that you could make it back to the Varden, my lady.”, he said evenly.

Wanting to change the immensely touchy topic and with an even more burning desire to know of Roran's prospects at Teirm, Nasuada asked, “How did your siege fare, Stronghammer?”

“Quite well, my lady. We have control of Teirm.”, Roran said. He sounded weary.

“You have? Conquered Teirm?”, Nasuada asked not quite believing that a siege on a city like Teirm would be over in a matter of one day.

“Aye, Nasuada. Teirm has fallen. It was either death or victory and we had lot of external help. I must say we were lucky.”, Roran said, again sounding so unwilling to talk about the battle.

Nasuada guessed that his losses were great and he was vexed by it. So she didn't want to push him further. “Please give me a detailed account of the battle when you are rested, General.”, she said.

Roran nodded. “Rest my lady. You look.... spent.”, he said.

What was he talking about? It was him who looked exhausted and dead. So thinking, she looked at her hands. Her fingers were trembling as if in cold and there were wrinkles on her hand arising from loss of moisture or blood. She felt a wave of nausea washing over her and she concluded that Roran was probably right.

“Keep me informed about your developments, Roran.”, she said to him and bade him farewell and good luck with Teirm's administration.

Then she decided to sleep and pulled the blankets over her. The bed was cosy and the room smelled pleasant. But all she could do was close her eyes. The monkey that was her mind didn't allow her to drift off into the world of bliss – named sleep. It instead played games with her asking her all sort of nonsense including but not restricted to: 'How would it be if Thorn and Murtagh could defy Galbatorix and join the Varden?'

'Father, please guide me through this.', she pleaded to the air hoping and praying that her father would actually hear her from wherever he was and send her some form of hope. It was after all him who had cultivated the habit of respecting and admiring dragons in her. Who could help her, if not him, in this matter that pertained to a certain red dragon?

Author's Note:

Nasuada's part is taking a BIG turn here. But I hope I can keep her in sync with the strong-willed, well-learned and well-meaning woman that Christopher created. This is just a look, through my mind, (of course!!) how Nasuada would behave if she were ever to meet her old friend Murtagh, whom she had openly sympathised with in Tronjheim and then at the burning plains, even after the rider had killed Hrothgar, in private again in the series. There is some understanding between the two as can be seen all through the original books and a LOT of fanfictions. But a love affair between the two is not what I (exactly) have in mind.... and personally I think that an affair between the two of them if it were ever to exist at all would at best be tumultuous. Also this thing that is bugging Nasuada's mind relates more to Thorn than to Murtagh. Nasuada, according to me, seeing as she grew at the Varden and under Ajihad, would respect dragons. Saphira has given her no reason not to, don't you think?

And I repeat once again, my dear readers, please do not see this as a shift in Nasuada's character.... it is rather a shift in her circumstances to which I envision her to act as I write her. But you can disagree with me... its your opinion after all. And remember to tell me what you thought of this shift. Originally I had not planned anything of this sort in the story... but that kind of story-line looked too .... one-dimensional(?).... And I thought this would add a lot of perspectives some of which should be interesting.