Purple Stone: Eragon fanfiction; Book 3

Chapter One: Afterwards

Blood has been spilt this day, Eragon. And I'm afraid to say that there have been lives wasted for little effect. Eragon nodded, knowing that Saphira was right. He followed her, cautiously navigating around the hundreds of befallen friends and enemies. The sun had now left them, leaving the Burning Plains in an eerie, blood darkness. Although he had become quite numb after battle, Eragon was certain the soles of his boots were dripping with blood. Grieving family members, friends, or any other who had lost a loved one in battle knelt before the dead, weeping in sorrow. the sight of it made ERagon's stomach churn, as if he were about to vomit on the spot. He at last walked towards the clearing, where the tents of the Varden were strewn about randomly. Eragon choked back a sob at the sight of a mother and daughter attempting to heal their wounded, the small girl remaining quite calm as she tried to console her widowed mother.

Saphira nudged her magnificent head at his side, gowling lowly. Everything had become a blur to Eragon, as if he had entered a dream world that had irreversibly become a nightmare. He merely ambled by as familiar faces, as well as unfamiliar, cast him concerned glances. At last, Eragon had found that he had aimlessly wondered to the concealed tent of Nasuada. He entered cautiously, breathing deeply and quietly. Saphira managed to jut in half of her head inside the tent to be noticed. "Eragon!" yelled Arya, with a peculiar solemn face. He did not reply, but hung his head low in shame, realizing that along with Arya, Jumundor and Trianna were also accompaning Nasuada in her tent. A look of utmost relief and shock etched across Nasuada's face, as she bolted towards him and threw her arms around Eragon. Right before Nasuada released her embrace, Eragon was consciously aware that Arya had a fixed gaze upon him, as if her eyes that were boring into his seemed even more knowing than before.

Quickly becoming withdrawn and diffident, Eragon instead looked back down at his boots, which were dirty and battle-worn. "what happened with the new rider and his dragon- was it Galbatorix?" Nasuada questioned, perking her head up. "Please say it's him-please don't tell me that was a new rider," she added, in an amlmost pleading voice. Eragon sighed, shuffled his feet uncomfortably, and gathered courage from within his heart. "Then I would be lying to you, and that-added to all other things- I can not bear," he said shakily, determined to hold his composure. Suddenly more strucken than before, Nasuada, feeling anxiously unaware of what to do with herself, quickly glanced about the room. "Jumundor-Triana-please leave us to a discreet counsel," Nasuada said at last, not unkindly. Without hesitance, Jumundor grufflynodded and left obediently. Triana, however, left reluctantly, not bothering to conceal her bitterness at the matter. When at last she had exited throughout the tent, Nasuada hastily glanced from Saphira to Eragon, curiously concerned. "Please tell me everything that you encountered on the battlefield against that rider-every detail-even petty-for I need to know." Eragon's face burned with diffidence and cautiousness, exhaling deeply, and with the face of Arya's fixed gaze upon him not helping gain control over himself.

"I.." he began, returning his previousstaring at his boots. Quite calmly and knowingly, Arya said, "Something troubles you deeply, Eragon-elda, but try not to let it keep you from withholding information fomr your queen." Horrified that Arya was referring to his undying love for her, he jolted back up, quickly shaking his head. "Oh no-Arya-it's just...today..it's not.." Eragon sighed, feeling worse now than he did when he discovered that Morzan was his father. Feeling out of place, Nasuada glanced at the pair of them questioningly. At last, Arya responded," I see." "Eragon? what happened today? I need to know..." Nasuada then placed her hand on his shoulder, at long last saying, "It's Murtagh, isn't it? He is the Rider?" Shocked, Eragon lookedup at her, puzzled, and asked,"How do you know?" forcing a light chuckle, Nasuada replied, " It made sense, really, after I discovered the twins had betrayed us-when we thought them long since dead-that Murtagh as well had survived. Maybe even joined Galbatorix and betrayed us as well. Am I right?" "Without question, my lady," ERagon answered quietly, inclining his head. Then, even shocking himself, Eragonspilled out his entire encounter with Murtagh, of how he had sworn loyalty to GAlbatorix in the Ancient LAnguage, all the way to how he had learned the true identity of his father. He need not have told them the utmost disgust and loathing upon the matter, for it showed in his face, tone, and overall attitude.

After a long lasting of minutes Eragon had thought of them judging him in a new light, Arya assured," This doesn't change anything about you, Eragon. I know you-you have a good heart." He looked up, solemnly, unable to bite back the tears forming in his eyes. Beside him, Nasuada smiled, adding, "Yes, of course. I agree completely with Arya. You have a tender suol, heart, and mind. No father, brother, mark inflicted upon you-will ever change that nor will it ever have the slightest manipulation over you." She cupped his face, and in a near whisper, said, "The time will come when you have to face your fears, Eragon. Even if that means you wil lstand against anentire army and outnumbered by several Riders. You have to devote your life for what you believe in-even if it means giving up your own life, Eragon-even if it means giving up the things you want most. Can you do that, ERagon? Are you willing?" Removing the dueted gaze he had shared with Arya, he looked back up his queen, promising, "I am, my lady." Silent tears slid down his face, feeling broken and torn inside. Nasuade nodded, and clapped him on his shoulder, as he knew it was his dismisall. "There are things to be discussed tomorrow, Eragon, so don't go too far." Giving his final nod, Eragon turned and left the tent, with the cool, relieving air blowing against him.

Awaken, Eragon. Please wake up. Dawn approached, with the burnt orange light slipping in through the darkness. ERagon sat against Saphira's belly as she rustled impatiently, doing her best to rouse him. Eragon! She shouted, shaking him awake. He stirred, groggily groping around to arise to his feet. NOW he rises...Saphira mocked, you're lucky an enemy hasn't come to retrieve you.

What is it, Saphira? he asked sharply.

You have a visitor.

What?

Look around you- you'll see the girl in a few seconds.

ERagon swiveled around, and was startled to see a young but intelligent girl before him, with large, unblinking purple-tinted hazel eyes and long black hair ."Hello," she said quietly, unnerved. "Elva," Eragon responded, confused. Elva changed her innocent wide eyes to an unmistakable glare. "Have you forgoteen your promise, Sahdeslayer?" Suddenly remembering that he vowed to undo his ignorant "blessing," he hastily replied, "Forgive me, Elva, I have been selfish." He then spoke strongly in the Ancient Language, undoing her curse, and then placed a new, knowledgable blessing, containing that she

'had a happy, fortunate life filled with joy and protection from evil. After which, he watched as the girl then lost her composed grief, and suddenly became ectastic with glee. "Oh, thank you, Eragon! thank you!" she ran to him and threw herself on him into a tight, grateful hug. He nearly fell over with a surprise and intensity of the embrace. Elva then released him, laughing, and intrepidly stroked Saphira. And good morning to you, Elva, responded Saphira contentedly.

The sight was nearly surreal, since Eragon had just a few moments before slumbering alongside Saphira on a smooth,surface of land outside, far amidst the tents of the Varden, which were at least fifty yards away. Sighing, Eragon then reseumded his position against Saphira, leaning against her restlessly. "You are a beautiful dragon. No otther could match in comparison." Elva admired. Saphira purred in reply. I like her, she added to Eragon, whom laughed softly inreply. "How old are you, exactly?" he asked smoothly, watching the girl with admiration. "Seven years young, to be exact-but as you know-I have a mind greater than that." Seven-but it was only last year or less than that you were a baby?" Elva giggled, turning her full attention towards him. "Your curse. Even though it has been canceled, it can not cancel out my intelligence. I'd imagine that I belong in a twelve-year-old's body." Eragon opened his mouth to reply, but found no voice of strength, so closed it, and glanced up at the sky. More light had managed to seep into the surroundings, feeling the air with warmth. "You must hate me, Elva. I've left a great impact on your life that some will not understand. Until the day I die, I will always be in your debt. Not that it could possibly matter, but I am terribly sorry for what I've done to you. And you have reason to deny me the pleasures of forgiveness."

Again, Elva giggled playfully. ERagon wondered if she were mocking him hatefully. "Oh but it does matter, Eragon. You free me of other's misfortune and blessed my life with happiness. My mind remains intelligent enough, but that I do not regreet nor wish to be removed. It would be like me telling you that you will lose all memory of your life, however long or short it seems, and start over. And as for your apology, I accept. I forgive you." ERagon smiled weakly, still feeling shamed and wicked for ever harming a little girl, intentionally or not. Before he could say more to her, she dreamily added, "I'm going to leave you noe, Shadeslayer, and go sleep peacefully." She then skipped away, quite happily and oblivious to the evils of war.

Do you think she'll be happy, now? Eragon asked Saphira shamefully.

You heard her just as I did. She'll be fine. She's already rejoicing.

He nodded, and once more, arose to his feet. Eragon quickly glanced about the Varden, watching as they awoke and stirred, starting new fires and cooking a light breakfast. He nearly jumped in bewilderment as he recognized an elf woman walk towards a small girl, whom Eragon knew as Elva. Arya... ERagon started, sighing slowly.


Eragon,
Saphira replied, watching him suspiciously. Isn't she just gorgeous, Saphira? Just look at her-no other could be as kind and caring as she-nor match her grace. Saphira snorted. She's alright. Eragon watched as Arya stood there watching the girl, Elva. He assumed that she was explaining her transformation. After a few seconds, Arya looked up, straight at Eragon. Swiftly turning away as if he had not seen, ERagon accidentally tripped over his own hasty feet, toppling over. Furious with himself, heleapt back up, praying that Arya hadn't seen. Saphira chortled. Oh, ha, ha, Eragon snapped. You really shouldn't mourn over her. Two too many times has it nearly ruined your friendship with her over the matter. I know it is hard, but try to forget her. You can't live your life in heartace-filled sorrow. You deserve better. And besides, it's distracting you form what needs to be done. We are at war.

Eragon defiantly shook his head. You speak nonsense. I love Arya. Damned will I be if I ever willingly forget her!

Then do it unwillingly!