A solitary tear ran down Arya's cheek as she watched Eragon sit at the roots of a tall tree, deep in Du Weldenvarden forest. The whole of the forest was whispering of the troubled rider, and now the elf could see why. Even without extending her consciousness, Arya could pick up on his wild mind, his thoughts stopping with one memory for a few seconds before hastily flitting to another. She longed to go and comfort him, as he had done for her, but she remained where she was, bound there by her societal position. While Galbatorix was alive, she was unable to do anything that might distract Eragon from his duty and destiny; her becoming anywhere near close to him endangered his future. She was the elven princess, but he was Alagaesia's sole hope for survival. In the grand scheme of things, his safety and ability to perform his function as a rider, along with Saphira, was certainly more important than his overall happiness, however much it hurt to see him like this. It pained her to see him in such a state, and as a result tears were threatening to overflow her eyes, interrupting her usual mask of impassiveness. She turned and walked back to Tiadalrί Hall as silently as she had arrived, leaving no trace of her ever having witnessed the scene.

Having crept into her cot, she pulled the blanket up to her chin, its warmth and presence comforting her as she tried to warm her soul up, a result of seeing the distracted Eragon. His infatuation with her was one thing that had the potential to knock his perspective off balance. This was the reason for her aloofness, and the way she felt compelled to conceal her emotions from him under a plain façade.

However, since the deaths of Oromis and Glaedr, it appeared that his whole world was upside-down. If the tyrannical king were to launch an attack against any one of the elves, the Varden, or the dwarves, Arya was unsure as to how Eragon would react, or how focused he would be. The rider had taken to wandering Du Weldenvarden woods at any time of night or day that took his fancy. And it was not just her that had noticed his odd behaviour. The trees were starting to sing lamentations of it and the other elves were picking up on it too. It wouldn't be too long before they began doubting the human rider, perhaps even resenting him. Arya curled on her side and shut her eyes before listing the true name of every plant she could think of – a technique of Eragon's she had picked up on and adopted. She needed to sleep, but she would have to talk to Saphira again tomorrow, to try and find a solution to Eragon and his problems.

Thanks for reading, am going to continue, but need a little time – damn revision to do, for exams in a week (eek!!)

Any concrit you can give or just reviews would be awesome – it doesn't take long. Please? Thankies :-)