It would be more difficult than you imagine, said Umaroth.
Yes, but you could do it! said Eragon. I’ve seen you and Saphira accomplish amazing things with magic. Surely this isn’t beyond you!
You know that we cannot use magic on command, said Saphira.
And even if we succeeded, said Umaroth, there is every chance that we would be unable to restore Brom’s mind to what it was. Minds are complicated things, and he might easily end up with his wits muddled or his personality altered. And then what? Would you want him to live like that? Would he? No, it is best to let him be, Eragon, and to honor him with your thoughts and actions, as you have. You wish it were otherwise. So do all who have lost one they care about. However, it is the way of things. Brom lives on in your memories, and if he was the man you showed us, he would be content with that. Let you be content with that as well.
But—
It was not Umaroth who interrupted, but the oldest of the Eldunarí, Valdr. He surprised Eragon by speaking not in images or feelings, but in words of the ancient language, strained and labored, as if each was foreign to him. And he said, Leave the dead to the earth. They are not for us. Then he spoke no more, but Eragon felt from him a great sadness and sympathy.
Eragon let out a long sigh and closed his eyes for a moment. Then, in his heart, he allowed himself to release his misguided hope and again accept the fact that Brom was gone.
“Ah,” he said to Saphira. “I didn’t think this would be so difficult.”
It would be strange if it were not. He felt her warm breath ruffle the hair on the top of his head as she touched his back with the side of her muzzle.
He smiled weakly and gathered up his courage to look at Brom again.
“Father,” he said. The word tasted strange in his mouth; he had never had cause to say it to anyone before. Then Eragon shifted his gaze to the runes he had set into the spire at the head of the tomb, which read:
HERE LIES BROM
Who was a Dragon Rider
And like a father
To me.
May his name live on in glory.
He smiled painfully at how close he had come to the truth. Then he spoke in the ancient language, and he watched the diamond shimmer and flow as a new pattern of runes formed upon its surface. When he finished, the inscription had changed to:
HERE LIES BROM
Who was
A Rider bonded to the dragon Saphira
Son of Holcomb and Nelda
Beloved of Selena
Father of Eragon Shadeslayer
Founder of the Varden
And Bane of the Forsworn.
May his name live on in glory.
Stydja unin mor’ranr.
It was a less personal epitaph, but it seemed more fitting to Eragon. Then he cast several spells to protect the diamond from thieves and vandals.
He continued to stand next to the tomb, reluctant to turn away and feeling as if there ought to be something more—some event or emotion or realization that would make it easier for him to say farewell to his father and thus to leave.
At last he put his hand atop the cool diamond, wishing that he could reach through it to touch Brom one final time. And he said, “Thank you for everything you taught me.”