BRISINGR SPOILERS!!BRISINGR SPOILERS!!

So...Brisingr...I won't say what I thought yet because I'm er..still thinking abou it! Anyway, I loved the part where Eragon and Arya get that much-needed chat time around the campfire! Who's with me? And the lonely god...Doctor Who I'm guessing. At any rate, I thought that the story Arya told about the soldier and the rose would make quite a poignant oneshot. So, here it is. Typed up amidst me trying to do a hundred other things. Enjoy and review!

White Rose

So lovely…she was so inexplicably lovely that it brought tears to his eyes. He could not understand what had come over him. One moment, she was just another prisoner that Durza was determined to bring under subjection. But as he looked into her eyes, those enigmas of forest green, she became something else entirely. She became…a person...a soul so desolate of all hope that he could not help but wish he were able to pry loose her prison bars and spirit her far away from the death walls of Gilead.

Indeed, it was no mere physical lust that drew him to her. To him, she was unique, sacred almost. If she were to be destroyed, he felt that some greater current within the universe would die with her. Such lofty, poetic thoughts for a soldier, he mused, his lips crinkling in sarcasm. After all, what could he, a mere footman in the empire's army do to ease the burden of this woman?

She was dying…that much he could see. Durza's torments were written upon her body, a testament to the pain she had withstood. Emboldened by a sudden sense of chivalry, he stepped from his position in one of the dark corners enshrouding her cell and was instantly bathed in the torchlight. His feet put pressure upon a loose stone, eliciting a rather loud grinding noise. He winced, unsure whether the elf had heard. Anxiously he flicked his eyes toward her cell.

She had heard.

Tense as a rabbit amidst a pack of wolves, the elf remained propped up upon her cot, eyes piercing despite her agony, ears alert for any sign of Durza. Her angular face, drawn and pale, turned suddenly to him. Those green orbs met his own muddied gray.

So strong was the intensity of her gaze that, for a hairsbreadth of time, he felt possessed by a strange, unpredictable magic, a magic unlike the foul sorcery that Durza sadistically practiced. No, this magic was of love and inestimable power. Her very soul teemed with it, enthralling him. Tears misted over his eyes. At first he was tempted to blink them back as a soldier would. But then he thought better of it and let them fall, hoping the elf understood his grief on her behalf.

Her eyes narrowed in suspicion. She probably wonders whether this is one of Durza's elaborate traps, he speculated. Slowly, he shook his head. "I mean you no harm, milady." Those were the truest words he had ever spoken. Truer than his words of allegiance to Galbatorix's army, truer than his wedding vows, truer than even his love for his own life. Without ever having met the woman, without ever even hearing her voice, he felt a deep and unrestricted compassion for her.

Glancing quickly about him, he made sure that the corridor was empty. Then, with all haste, he stepped up to the bars of her cell. Twining his fingers about the cool, slimy iron, he focused his attention upon her. For a moment, he was speechless, uncertain of how to express himself. Then, as his tears began to trail down his nose, he spoke. "I'm sorry. So sorry…Forgive me. I cannot stop what they are doing to you. Only, don't give in…not now…not after you've come so far." He paused to gather his wits. "Be strong for just a while more. They cannot keep at this much longer." He turned to leave, then…"Please forgive me, milady. It is all so horribly wrong." As he again turned to leave, he drew from his pocket a white rose and gently cast it into the cell.

:

It was dawn…as far as she could tell from the ruddy color of the walls outside her cell. She lay there upon her cot, dripping blood and exhausted. It had been more lashes this time. Durza was growing impatient. Tears threatened to cascade from her eyes. It had been so long since she'd seen the sun or felt the rain or smelled a flower.

A deep tremor wracked her body. It was so cold…so terribly cold. As she tried in vain to drift off to sleep, her mind wandered far and wide, bringing her back memories of afternoons spent under the golden sun of Ellesmera, reading beneath the Menoa Tree. Kasia, her dear friend, laughing with her over something foolish. Her father twirling her about the corridors of Tialdari Hall. Her mother's voice as it had been before her father had died. So smooth and comforting. Telling her stories of distant lands and fantastic adventures. Faolin placing a comforting arm around her shoulder one night amidst the burning bonfires of the Varden. Faolin laughing…but no. She did not wish to remember him.

And then, suddenly, she remembered the soldier. He way he had stood before her cell…nearly crying! The look in his eyes…as if he alone understood her sufferings. And the words he had spoken…"I'm sorry. Be strong. Forgive me." Her mind immediately rejected the memory. It was impossible not to mention ridiculous. A dream after all, she sighed. A dream just like all the others.

Despair came heavily upon her. What was her life now? A picture of relentless pain? She could end it so easily…all she had to do was stop breathing. Restlessly she shifted her head so that it faced the part of her cell directly below the iron bars. What she saw there jarred her. It was a white rose! A pure, unblemished white rose! Her strained eyes could hardly believe what they were seeing. It was real, to be sure! But who would…

A smile of peace washed over Arya's face. The soldier. He had been real after all. He had been real. His words echoed in her head. "Be strong. Be strong. Be strong."

Yes, she resolved as sleep finally overcame her. I can be strong. I will be strong.