A Song of the Sapphire and Emerald
It has been two months since the Blood-Oath Celebration, two months since Eragon professed his love for Arya and swore an oath in the Ancient Language that he would wait a thousand years for her if he had to, and two months since Arya rejected him. Eragon's barely contained grief and misery has already begun to take root as insanity and the wound only festers in Arya's absence. But Arya fares no better than he. Will Arya give in to her emotions, or will she fall into the arms of insanity along with Eragon?
Prelude: The Poetic Rider
Arya still felt uncomfortable talking to Eragon alone, while she avoided doing so as much as possible, she could not prevent it this time. She cautiously entered his room, "Eragon? Nasauda sent me to…" trailing off, Arya was surprised that Eragon wasn't hunched over some dusty old tome or scroll, searching for new spells. In front of her lay the many fruits of his labor: easily more than a hundred scrolls neatly stacked in some unknown sorting, with the most recent addition, half-finished, sat atop his desk. Curious as to what Eragon had now focused his efforts upon, Arya opened the new scroll. Eragon's oddly rushed script took some time for her to decipher.
A woman I met
Only a year ago, not
In a state of sight
But in a vision of sleep,
Stole my heart with a single glance; she was
The woman of Raven-Black.
Eyes that once shone bright and true,
Were now war weary, but pierced
My soul still. A sea of black
Adorned with a circlet of jaded emerald
Then laid grey
On the woman of Raven-Black
Was it weeks or months before
I saw Her face, with these mortal eyes?
I remember the hours it took to reach Her,
And I remember the horrors She
Had suffered at the hands of Evil.
What grotesque monster had turned Her to a shell
Of the Woman of Raven-Black.
We rode to safety, to the Hidden Gate,
Into the arms of Her comrades.
She survived, by seconds, but alive nonetheless.
Slowly revived by the master healers,
I spoke in Her mind, She was safe,
So awoke the Woman of Raven-Black.
In the world of Mortals once more,
She longed for battle.
So I offered my sword and shield,
And She, Her's, and we fought.
But a battle it was not, it was a symphony of steel,
Conducted by the Woman of Raven-Black.
We heard the sounds of the enemy's drums,
And the Army of Rebels prepared for battle.
A battle juxtaposing Black Souls against Red Sword
In the mountain city.
Alone, I fought a losing fight without my sapphire,
But from the Star Rose on my flying gem, sprang forth
The Woman of Raven-Black.
I drove my sword through the Black-Souls,
But She is the one who killed him.
I did not leave unscathed, a seal of
Evil scarred by back,
My shield brother taken, and only
She could have found him, but luck failed
The Woman of Raven-Black.
By a Queen of distant wooded lands,
And a treaty centuries old,
We were commanded to go to the Land of Eternity.
But the King of the Mountain Cities
Desired my name, so he made me brother.
A brother to him and to the Mountain-Dwellers.
With disapproval and distaste looked
The Woman of Raven-Black.
We sought the ancient forest of Du Weldenvarden
Using the Mountain-Cities of my clan-brethren, and
My training was to be completed by the älfish masters
As old as the forests themselves.
But as madness creeped ever closer, it was healed by
The Woman of Raven-Black.
We arrived in Her forest, Her homeland,
But insanity welcomed us in lithely manner,
In its dulcet tones. A festival of love
Sung in the language of Power
Would have destroyed me, if not for the saving grace of
The Woman of Raven-Black.
I trained.
I practiced.
I sparred relentlessly, mastering, unyielding; I was now
Able to halt rivers, and pull mountains to their knees. But Power
Was of no use to me, I had no desire for it.
Not even the strongest of men could resist
The Power of the Blood-Oath, it manipulated my love for
The Woman of Raven-Black.
The Elder-Ones had changed me.
I was more älf than human now, more like Her.
I thought revealing my love for Her
Was fitting to the time of Passions
So glorified for months preceding by the people of
The Woman of Raven-Black.
I was refused, but I would be mistaken if I believed
That my love was one-sided,
Her words were dispassionate, but the tongues of mortals lie
In Her eyes, a spark of love requited
An ember of relief,
And the smoke of grief.
I denied myself, I swore I would not chase after
The Woman of Raven-Black.
Dumbfounded, Arya nearly let the scroll fall from her shaking hands. Standing in shocked realization that Eragon's affection, no, his love for her ran much more deeply than some passing impulse of the blood. She continued to unwind the scroll, only to find more of Eragon's writing dated about two months ago.
When I, walking alone
Down a crowded street, filled
With so many happy faces
And eyes brimming with joy;
I walk on with sadness in my heart.
Wishing I could be one of them.
Waiting for this emptiness to leave,
But it won't go,
Not for a long time on.
Because the one I love
Might as well be
Living across an Ocean that I've never seen,
Thrown headlong, away from my words
That are meant for Her,
And Her alone.
The rain breaks free from the Heavens
And I listen quietly, wasting the time on my back.
Love the furthest thing from my mind;
But like a dreaded memory, the
Thoughts of Her creep back into my mind.
Like Manic Depression,
The tears come back again.
They won't go,
They don't want to leave me alone.
Because the one I love
Might as well be
Stranded on an island no soul has ever been,
Isolated from my thoughts and my heart
That are meant for Her
And Her alone.
Let the rain keep falling, drowning out all sound,
For now my tears have become my fate.
One consigned to watch from afar,
To be crushed time and time again,
And to watch her fall with other men.
An emptiness stands inside me,
Formidable as the castle walls
I've surrounded myself in completely.
They won't fall by my hand,
Only by Her word will they collapse;
The wall will stand for eternity
Because the one I love is mute to me.
She won't hear my pleas
Over the loneliest of barricades.
The barricades of my own creation.
I know now that words are useless
Without someone to hear your words,
Without someone to know your voice,
And without someone to know your heart.
Tears began to well up in Arya's eyes, barely holding her typically stoic composure. Another poem continued:
Don't let me step
Out into the cold,
Don't let me fall
Down, losing what is gold.
Don't let me down,
Because you are the one who flew beside me.
Don't let me feel
This surmounting pain.
Don't let me hate
The never-ending rain.
Don't let me run,
Because you are why I stay.
Don't let me believe
In their lies.
Don't let me see through
The alluring mystery in your eyes.
Don't let me leave,
Because you never left me alone
Don't let me forget
The adventures we had.
Don't let me be entrapped
By the gate in iron clad.
Don't let me remember the ground,
Because you taught me flight
As she continued to unravel this hefty collection, she noticed that a single page titled "Addendum" had fallen from its rightful place.
But I did not swear
To never admire Her,
To never bask in Her presence, and
To never love Her;
I swore I would wait for a thousand years.
And for a thousand years I shall wait
For Her.
And Her alone.
She couldn't hold back her tears any longer, she let them break the plane of her jaded eyes. How, she thought, could Eragon manage to do this to me with mere ink, yet flounder when we speak face-to-face? I must not let anyone see me in this state, much less Eragon. So she chanted the spell of invisibility and sprinted for her room. I need to find him, for both his sake and my own.
A.N.
All poetry you see here is my own, and poetry makes up the bulk of what I write; so if any errors I did not catch, for example, plot, character speech, etc. are made out of inexperience with writing on a larger scale.
UPDATED 8/1/2015
So it's been quite awhile since I've updated anything. Nearly two years, in fact. I've decided that I will continue writing this, albeit at a much more realistic pace as I will be entering university soon. I will not commit myself to any specific deadlines right now because it would be utterly foolish on my part to raise your hopes, and subsequently dash them on the rocks, so to speak. I will also be editing what already exists, as two years has granted no insignificant measure of maturity, both as an individual and a writer, and as the story stands now is purely unacceptable for me. You will hear from me again soon.
-Kyatakushi
