OK, this is a plot chipmunk…er…bunny, that came upon me when I was making cookies for my older brother's birthday. Weird. Anyways, all publicly recognizable characters, settings, chipmunks, mad rabbits, etc. are property of Christopher Paolini, blah, blah, blah.
EDIT: First story. Please don't flame. Whoopee.
Eragon heaved a gusty sigh, frustrated. Belatona had just been captured a week ago, and he had done all that he could to help the Varden, mostly quelling small insurrections of disgruntled citizens that were still loyal to the Empire, and repairing damage caused by the destructive magical duels. Although Murtagh was there, Eragon had beaten him soundly and taken him prisoner. Eragon had just emerged from the jailhouse where his half-brother currently was placed. He was trying, to no avail, to begin to change Murtagh's true name, but Murtagh clung to his jaded, cynical ways as a barnacle clings to the bottom of a ship, and could not be made to see any other life for himself than that of the slave of an insane king of a nation that hated him.
Saphira, Eragon called to his best friend and dragon, I'm going to ask Arya if she would like to accompany me on a walk. If she agrees, we will be near the trees on that small peninsula about a mile outside of town.
Alright, but do try and stay out of trouble this time. And if you do get in trouble, and I'm certain you will, don't ever hesitate to wake me up, Saphira responded. She sent an image of Eragon and Arya stuck in a tree with a rabid, slavering light brown rabbit pacing beneath them. Remember what happened last time? You were stuck up there for five hours, missed a war council, and embarrassed yourself in front of Arya's mother, who not only happens to be the queen, but also one of the few that you have to prove yourself to as a person to win Arya's hand.
Something tells me that if Arya loved me, she would become my mate with or without her mother's approval.
I don't know. You might be surprised; Arya always has something up her sleeve. I'll try and stay near; I've changed my mind. I'm going hunting. She left his mind with that bit of information, and on the far side of the city, a loud roar coupled with dozens of yelps, brays, whinnies, and squawks sounded as the majestic sapphire dragoness rose into the sky to scour the surrounding countryside for deer and feral oxen to sate her ever-increasing appetite.
His conversation with Saphira leaving him in a much better mood, Eragon stepped out with renewed vigor in the general direction of the elven ambassador's tent. Upon arriving, he found the tent to be empty. Dismayed, he turned to the ever-present shadow that was Blöhdgarm.
"You haven't seen Arya today, have you?" he queried.
"No, Shadeslayer, but she might have gone for a walk; you know how she always has enjoyed solitude."
Rather, she never had anyone to be with. Eragon remembered how she had opened up to him on their previous walk in the woods.
He set off towards the north-east at a brisk trot, and had entered the small stand of trees on the small bluff within a matter of minutes. He was surprised at the sheer beauty of the small area; there was a small plateau with one side also possessing a slight extension of level earth that came to a steep bluff of about ten feet, while all around it the earth flowed gently down towards the gently lapping waters of LakeLeona. The small stand of trees offered welcome protection from the scorching midday sun of late summer, and Eragon gladly slipped inside the shadows. His eyes adjusted quickly as his guards made a large ring around the thicket, and he soon spotted the reason for his coming.
Ebony haired with emerald eyes, Arya was to Eragon the perfect woman. Other men might've found her nose to be too pointy, her arms too muscled, her body too athletic; Eragon only found her all the more beautiful for this. She wore only simple leather leggings and a matching black tunic, but the finest of jewels or filthiest of rags could not have changed the air of regal elegance and poise that perpetually surrounded her, and befitted her position as elven ambassador and princess.
He managed to find his tongue with a soft greeting.
She responded in kind, and they set off together through the trees.
They strode amongst the trees until they reached a large bush that was part of the extensive network that ringed the clearing; it was a rather small clearing that was scarcely ten feet in diameter, just large enough for two tall people to stretch out comfortably. Both Eragon and Arya took a step back on the small path, and dashed towards the bush in unison. They leaped as one, and Arya landed easily on the other side. However, when Eragon jumped, Brisingr caught on several higher canes, throwing him off balance. He landed on his knees in front of Arya, much to his chagrin. Arya smiled, but the small gesture of amusement was lost on Eragon as he pulled himself into a sitting position. Arya sat down on the ground with her legs folded to one side.
"As I promised you yesterday, I will tell you more about my childhood. My mother, following the loss of my father, was driven mad by grief. She would lock herself in her quarters for days at a time, and between these fits, she would be one of the shortest tempered elves that I have ever known. Anything that reminded her of my father would either send her into an uncontrollable rage or a weeklong seclusion. Unfortunately, I reminded her very much of my father, and so I was generally discouraged from her presence. This lasted until I was roughly twenty years old, at which point I began training for ambassadorship and the yawë. As you know, elves age at about the same rate until our bodies are physically mature and then essentially stop aging in our early prime; most of my childhood was gone before my mother even showed any signs of anything resembling love, care, or affection. While I have never been one to be surrounded by many friends, I had an unhealthily low number of close companions. I did, however, become rather fond of several wild animals." She noticed a small chipmunk scampering out of its hole and smiled at it. She continued her narrative, but the small animal had captivated Eragon's attention with its behavior.
"Istalri!" he cried as he leaped to his feet. A bolt of flame leaped from his index finger, killing it as it gave a loud screech.
Anger distorted Arya's face as she cried "How could you abuse your power like that?! I just told you how much animals and other wildlife meant to me in my youth, and you do something like that!" and she made to leave.
"Arya, wait! It was being animated by a magician!"
She snorted with derision. "A likely story. We have no way of knowing that now."
"Look at it!" Eragon displayed the charred corpse by holding it by what remained of the scruff of its neck.
"All I see is a harmless animal that was killed needlessly. Goodbye." And with those parting words, she leaped effortlessly over the bushes and was gone.
Eragon's guards, attracted by the shouts and use of magic, had come rushing towards the clearing, but chose to wait outside the ring of bushes due to the lack of malevolent minds and the expression on their princess's face. If they had entered they would have been greeted by the sight of a forlorn Rider shooting occasional glances at the place that Arya had vaulted over, but mostly just staring at the body of the incinerated chipmunk, and the tiny blowgun with a poisoned dart still clenched between its singed paws.
Saphira, I think I'm in trouble.