UPDATE 3/27/13
As is per usual, when rereading my work, I find things I'm not particularly a fan of. I rewrote the Eragon/Arya exchange in part 3 because of excessive cheese and failure at not sucking. So now it's slightly less cheesy and slightly better at not sucking. That's the hope at least. It's nothing major, so don't reread if you don't feel the need, I was just on a writing kick and decided to do some ff instead of the novel I'm working on. Anyway, it's there if you want it.
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Author's Note (please read): Yup, it's me. I deleted all of my other junk off of my account, so it's just this.
Anyway, this is what I think should (NEEDS to) happen after the Inheritance series after C. Pao left us in the absence of any ExA lovin'. Anyway, it's my first oneshot. It's so weird, writing the thing I am sworn to hate... kind of funny that it's the first thing I've ever finished on this damn site.
I'm not the most confident in my proof-reading skillz, and wrote most of this on my phone (as usual... long story) so please forgive any completely bizarro mistakes. Please feel free to correct any Ancient Language mistakes or just dumb stuff i missed in general. Like that "i" that I didn't capitalize right there. That's a good one.
I might proof-read it again, but it's 6:00 am, and I'm done for now. Oh, and BTW, this site needs better italics. Look at that. It's pathetic. I bet you didn't even realize that the word "italics" was italicized. weak sauce man. You gotta really pay attention, or it gets confusing. If you people have problems reading, let me know and I'll bold that shit too.
Please enjoy.
Part 1
Three years today, Eragon thought as his mind met Saphira's, who was soaring over the valley as the sky paled to greet the coming morning. He got out of his bed, shaved, brushed his teeth, and changed into his morning attire, a simple cloth robe that the elves had given him during his stay in Ellesmera when he studied with Oromis. Walking out of his massive room, though his massive entrance hall, and and opening the massive double doors to his massive house, Eragon met a warm, sunny morning.
The task of settling into a new home with the twenty elves that decided to follow Eragon and Saphira had found them in a place in the southeast corner of the plain that stretched east of the Edda River. They discovered a valley tucked away in a mountain range—with peaks about the same height as those of the Spine—that had a few streams and a river running through it. The Eldunarí suggested they made the settlement to the same scale as Dorú Areaba, and Eragon liked the idea. Over the next few months, and with a fair bit of magic, a handful of houses, halls, and one library, all fit for dragons, we're constructed. A few houses were small and sung from trees, to accommodate the elves who weren't riders, as well as potential guests. The rest of the halls were mostly slate, granite, or some other well suited stone that could be worked fairly easily.
Aye, said Saphira. Eragon felt a small wave of longing come over the dragon as she caught a thermal and began to rise. Three years.
It hurts, doesn't it? Eragon asked, a sad smile on his lips.
More than I thought it would, after all this time, said Saphira.
It's not permanent, Eragon assured her. I promise. It's just hard to forget things sometimes.
You've been saying that since we got here, little one. Saphira had an edge to her thoughts, that Eragon took as a warning.
Ok, I'll leave it alone, Eragon said. He glanced down from his vantage point to see the gargantuan growing city before him. Most of the architecture, which was a grand sight on its own, was inspired from the memories of the Eldunarí because Eragon was not learned at all in the grandeur of buildings, and the elves with him were not very knowledgeable outside of their native style. Eragon's house was by far the largest building, apart from the library, which was still a work of progress, as he was the leader of the Riders, something he could not quite adjust to.
Built into a bowl-like indentation on the largest mountain walling the valley, his new home was a mix of both large and small, allowing for company of all shapes and sizes. There was his own room, complete with a bed, a fireplace, a washroom, a desk, a few maps and pictures, a large mirror for scrying, a bookshelf, and a patch of earth large enough for Saphira's eventual size. Throughout the rest of his home was a dining hall magnificent enough for the most established diplomats; a private study that was fairly empty at the moment; two Rider-sized guest quarters with their own washrooms; and finally, a few non-dragon sized rooms for those without reptilian partners. Most of his house was lacking finishing touches and decoration, but Eragon wasn't expecting anyone of extreme import for a few decades at least, so the lack of decorum didn't bother him.
His house faced the valley, with a stream running alongside it that reminded Eragon of Oromis. Behind his new home was a relatively private clearing, a hundred yards in each direction, littered with the occasional boulder or shrub, and enclosed by towering pine trees. Eragon had set up a few archery targets, as well as a small training area of both physical and mental capacities. In front of his house the flatland extended for another few hundred yards before meeting a ledge, and beginning its decline to the valley floor. There was a wide cobblestone path leading to his doorway, and on either side of it was a patch of grass that a dragon might enjoy lounging in, watching the goings on of the people below. The small brook, further to the left if one was facing Eragon's house, snaked its way along the tree line before disappearing into the mountainside forest near the edge of the small plateau.
As Eragon walked towards the ledge of his terrace, he spotted a blue glimmer in the sky, circling back and forth. After a few breaths he started his daily session of the Rimgar. I wish a Rider would come join us. I'm interested to see an Urgal or dwarf riding a dragon.
As am I, replied Saphira. Eragon could tell she was glad for the change of subject. If for nothing else than the aspect of company.
Is that an insult, Saphira?
You know what I mean. Eragon saw an image of the sapphire dragon diving as she spotted a large buck in a clearing by a stream. He shut his mind off to hers before she made her kill, and continued his morning routine alone as the dragon ate.
As Eragon moved from the Rimgar to his swordsmanship practices, Saphira joined him in the clearing behind his house, gliding into the glade before landing with what could only be described as a delicate thud. Eragon looked at her, admiring how big she had become. She had experienced another growth spurt over the last few months, claiming several more feet in every direction in addition her additional growth since their arrival in the valley. Blödhgarm said that it might be because she was no longer under such extreme stress, and her body caught up win her age. Glaedr, who Eragon and Saphira made a point of regularly conversing with, agreed.
Did you have a nice hunt?
Saphira nodded. Didn't you see? she asked, knowing full well that Eragon chose not to watch her kill.
Eragon smirked, Feeling clever are we?
Is that not allowed? Saphira asked, feigning hurt.
I love you, Saphira, Eragon said.
And I you, little one.
Eragon bathed after his morning exercises before descending into the valley atop Saphira to meet the elves for breakfast. The sun had been up for half an hour when he arrived, and most of the elves were finishing their own meals before he sat down to his own. Saphira entered the dining hall with ease and laid alongside the Eragon's table.
"Good morning, Shadeslayer, Brightscales," Blödhgarm said, walking towards the two of them with a plate of fruits, nuts, grains, and a few pieces of cheese.
"Good morning, Blödgharm," Saphira and Eragon said together. Ever since they had arrived in the valley, the elves, and Blödgharm in particular, had been less formal, and Eragon wasn't minding at all. The elves were all friendly, and from what Eragon could tell, glad to be there helping. Some were scrying the scribes at Ilirea, transposing the tomes of Galbatorix's collection for the library of the valley (an arduous task that Eragon found there were no magical shortcuts to, which meant that every word had to be spoken on one side of the connection and written down on the other) while others were planning and constructing new parts of the city or communicating with the Eldunarí. Eragon felt somewhat useless in all of the preparations for the new city, which was still unnamed, so he mostly tried to stay out of everyone's way, or studied under Gleadr to complete his Rider training.
Eragon and Blödgarm ate breakfast together and spoke of pleasantries and how the city was progressing and what a dwarf or Urgal Rider might be like. No new Riders had arrived, though Eragon had to admit he wasn't surprised. If Saphira had taken all those years to hatch just for him, then Eragon could only assume other dragons were just as picky. The Eldunarí had told Eragon he was right, and that the new system would be slow, though more thorough. Returning to the conversation, Eragon realized the elf was telling him that in a month's time, on the third anniversary of their arrival in the valley, there would be a small celebration. Eragon and Saphira agreed to come, as they had the two previous years, then the Rider finished his meal and bid Blödhgarm farewell.
I wonder what kind of mead they will have? Salhira wondered as she and Eragon opted to walk back to their house, rather than fly.
I'm sure you'll be plenty drunk by the end of it, just like last year, Eragon thought back. After a few moments of silence, he felt a foreign, yet warm weight sink into his chest. Feeling through his robes in confusion, Eragon realized it was his own enchanted necklace telling him that someone in Alagaësia wanted to speak with him. After a moment the necklace returned to normal. Sparing no time, Eragon hopped onto Saphira's back, and the dragon took to the sky, beating her wings to carry them up the mountain to their home.
Minutes later, Eragon and Saphira found themselves in front of the mirror next to the Rider's bed, and Eragon muttered the spell allowing communication between both ends. The back of Nasuada's chair soon appeared in the mirror, and Eragon called her name tentatively.
"Eragon," gasped the queen from the other side of the high-backed chair. She rose to face him. "You gave me a start; it's been quite a while. What is it?"
"Someone scried me a few minutes ago," Eragon said. "Was that you?"
"No,"Nasuada said. "That was was Arya. She told me to get you to contact her as soon as possible. She said it was about Murtagh."
"Murtagh?" Eragon asked, confused.
"That's all I know," said Nasuada. Eragon could tell she was worried. "If you get the chance, please contact me with information when you know more."
"Of course," Eragon said, bowing slightly. "I'll contact you again shortly."
"I'll look forward to speaking with you two," Nasuada smiled, and Eragon ended the spell.
Eragon took a deep breath. He and Arya hadn't spoken once since they last saw each other. He felt Saphira think of Fírnen. Gathering his courage, he spoke the spell to contact Arya.
As the image in the mirror changed, Eragon realized how messy his hair looked and spotted several other flaws in his appearance. Regardless of his unreadiness at speaking with Arya, the queen of the elves came into view immediately, pacing. Fírnen lay behind her in a white backdrop, alert, and his tail twitching.
She was as beautiful as ever, her black hair, flawless skin, and even with her brow furrowed in concern she took Eragon's breath away. "Arya Drottning," He said, twisting his hand in the traditional greeting.
Like Nasuada, Arya jumped, and Fírnen flinched, his tail twitching and his claws digging into the earth slightly. The green dragon had grown considerably since Eragon had last seen him. Arya's gaze softened, as if relieved. She returned the greeting before saying, "You startled me."
"My apologies," Eragon said, trying and failing to hide a smile that was tugging at his lips. He could have announced his presence by making some sort of noise, perhaps, but the chance to catch Arya on unawares was too tempting. "Fírnen has grown tremendously; he looks well."
"He is. Still not as large as Saphira, though," Arya commented. Her face returned to its glare after the surprise wore off.
"Did you expect him to be?"
"I suppose not. But this is digressing. I have news for you, Eragon. Murtagh is in Du Weldenvarden. And he wants to see you."
"When?" Eragon asked, searching Arya for answers. Saphira and Fírnen were staring at each other. "Do the Eldunarí need to move me there magically?"
"That depends on how far away you are from Alegaësia," Arya said. "How long will it take you to reach here? Murtagh requests you to bring a few dozen Eldunarí. Old Eldunarí. I'm not sure what he's asking your help of, but I would suggest you choose wisely."
"Of course," Eragon said. Why am I not surprised? he asked Saphira.
Because the elders told him not to go looking for trouble, she replied, breaking her eye contact with Fírnen. He and Thorn would want to prove themselves after being free of Galbatorix, wouldn't they? Discover whether or not they have their own strength?
I suppose you have a point, said Eragon. He turned to Arya. "With the Eldunarí we can reach Ellesmera in just under two weeks. Ten days if we really push it."
"Really?" Arya asked, relaxing visibly. "I thought you would have settled farther than that."
"We're plenty far," Eragon said simply. "To go any farther would have been pointless. The Riders are supposed to return to Alagaësia eventually, aren't we?"
"Yes, you are."
"When should we leave?" Eragon asked.
"In the next few days. Murtagh will need some rest before he ventures off once more."
"If that's all, do you have a few minutes to spare? It's been three years since we spoke last, and I would enjoy talking with you." Eragon was weighing the odds between potential answers when she shook her head.
"I cannot," Arya said. "I have trade embargoes to finalize as well as caravans to contract from Ilirea regarding lost artifacts. But we shall speak face to face when you arrive, and I am most curious to see your new home."
Eragon smiled and nodded. "Then we shall see see you in a fortnight."
Part 2
We're a pair of love-struck fools, aren't we? Saphira asked.
To become old and wise, one must first be young and stupid, Eragon replied.
While that may be true, I would not suggest blaming ignorance on your youths, Eragon and Salhira, Glaedr added. Not after what you two have shown you're capable of.
Yes, Master, Eragon and Saphira said together. The two of them were flying several thousand feed above the Edda river, which cut through the plain below them like a knife. The valley of the Riders was just a dot on the horizon as the Rider, dragon, and saddlebags full of Eldunarí soared under the sun. The flat earth below then seemed endless, dwarfing even the Hadarac Desert, but Eragon knew it was not eternal, and the shimmering river would take him to Alagaësia: to his friends.
Four days passed, uneventful and calm before the company reached the massive fork in the Edda river. It was easy enough to tell which direction to continue in, the most westward one, but Saphira touched down at the mile-wide joint in the water to rest and hunt. The split in the waterway had given Eragon and the other elves enough trouble on the way down, so it seemed fitting to spend a night at its bank. Getting their boat over the choppy rapids was not the problem, no, magic solved that problem easily enough. What faced Eragon, Saphira, the elves, and Eldunarí three years ago was a choice between two unknowns.
There was not a landmark for leagues in any direction other than the fork in the Edda, and either path could lead to a danger or a haven. So the elves stalled the boat for a few days while the group talked it over. Ultimately they picked the right, southeast fork, if only because Saphira wanted a hotter climate for sunbathing, and south meant warmer weather. It was odd, Eragon recalled, watching the elves be swayed by only a thought of comfort and relaxation. But south they went, and they eventually arrived at the valley in the mountains. And Eragon was glad they had trusted Saphira's instincts; he had wanted to go north.
Not only did the divergence in the river remind Eragon of a fond memory, it signaled the half-way point between the valley and Hedarth. Give or take a hundred miles.
That evening by the fire, as the crimson sun melted into the horizon, Saphira said, I'm nervous.
The mighty Saphira, fairest dragon in the world is nervous? Eragon said, warming his hands in front of the flames. What troubles you?
Fírnen, Saphira said, ignoring his comment. There are so many doubts I have.
Eragon looked at her. You have doubts? You two were inseparable from the moment you met. I'm not worried about you two in the slightest. You're not exactly up against much competition, are you?
Saphira blinked. I hadn't thought of that.
Eragon laughed. Fírnen is absolutely smitten with you. It couldn't be more obvious.
Saphira hummed to herself, pleased with his words. What of you and Arya? You have been fairly distant with her, have you not?
That hasn't made me love her less, Eragon countered. The time apart has cleared my head... in one sort or another. We're quite the pair, aren't we?
So it would seem. Is there any way I can help?
No, Eragon sighed. This is my own... undertaking. Though I appreciate the offer. And if I can help you, I'd be glad to.
Saphira shook her great head and blinked. The two were quiet for a time before Saphira spoke again. You're not worried about Murtagh at all, are you?
Not in the slightest. If it were that threatening, he would have had us send the Eldunarí with magic, instead of flying there ourselves. No, he wants to talk to me, or perhaps Thorn wishes to speak with you. No, it's not mortal peril he's up against. At least not right now. He wants to speak with me, so I will meet him.
You make an excellent brother, little one, Saphira said, nuzzling her nose against Eragon's head. He scratched under her chin and thanked her.
The next morning Saphira set off, and before long, miles passed under her in the blink of an eye. They followed the river relentlessly, as if hounding some invisible prey that would lead them to Ellesmera. Saphira flew the entire day and night, and Eragon could tell her size was helping, making both speed and navigation easier. She also seemed stronger, even without the help of the other dragons they had brought with them; perhaps it was that he felt lighter to her now, and she was flying more naturally. Perhaps it was simply more experience. Whatever the reason, Eragon knew that Saphira's airborne finesse had increased without a physical mentor for her, and he found that impressive.
As the sixth morning of their journey broke, Eragon twisted in Saphira's saddle to watch the sunrise. It was nothing extraordinary, but he enjoyed it all the same; the pink pale sky chased away the stars, and before long the sun itself broke the plain below them, bathing the land in golden rays of light. Saphira watched the sight through his eyes while she glided along. After a few minutes the beauty of the landscape faded, and Saphira and Eragon faced west once more.
Midday passed before Eragon felt the Eldunarí feeding Saphira with energy, at which point she sped up, renewed vigor present in every stroke of her wings.
Two more days passed in sustained flight until Saphira finally stopped to rest. The river had grown tumultuous and choppy, and the roar of more intense rapids upstream could be heard like quiet thunder. An orange glowing point in the distance represented the small trading town of Hedarth. They had reached Alagaësia, and in eight days.
Saphira wasn't very tired, as she had been flying with borrowed energy, so she leapt into the night to go hunting.
Eragon was grateful to spread his legs and sleep in a different position. While he had been using a saddle crafted for comfort, and he would never complain to Saphira about the labors of riding a dragon, he had acquired several knots in his back. He stretched for several minutes, and the relief was nothing short of glorious. As the tension in his muscles eased, he started a campfire and ate his own meal.
Saphira returned after three quarters of an hour, and Eragon was glad to see she hadn't brought her meal with her. The dragon curled herself around her Rider, who leaned against her warm belly, and they fell asleep as their campfire burned itself out under the stars.
The final leg of their trip was short. Saphira skirted the edges of Du Weldenvarden near the elven city Ília Fëon just as the sun reached its zenith, and raced over the plains between the great forest and the Hadarac Desert as the day wore into night. They saw no travelers, and very little wildlife, save for the occasional bird that Saphira sped past, but the air brought a familiar scent that Eragon and Saphira could not describe.
They touched down to pass through Du Weldenvarden's wards a few hours before morning. This forest feels so familiar, doesn't it?
Like a home away from home, Saphira agreed.
For all that talk about never returning, I was expecting to burn up in flames as we crossed over the Edda, Eragon mused.
I will protect you from any divine punishment you haven't earned, Saphira answered. Now come, Ellesmera awaits.
He jumped into her saddle, and Saphira kicked off the ground with a surge of excitement that Eragon suspected had very little to do with Thorn or Murtagh.
It was obvious to both Eragon and Saphira when they were nearing Ellesmera: the presence of two dragons circling high above the trees gave the well-hidden city away. The red shape of Thorn was far larger than Fírnen, but the green dragon showed no signs of submission as the two flew around each other. Saphira roared, and both dragons seemed to stumble a few feet out of the air in shock. They looked, saw Eragon and Saphira, and roared in response, flying over to meet them.
Eragon greeted thorn while Saphira exchanged thoughts with Fírnen. Thorn seemed genuinely pleasant, but gave Eragon no word of Murtagh. Next, Eragon greeted Fírnen, who was clearly excited to see him and Saphira. He told Eragon and Saphira where Arya was and guided them, as well as Thorn, down to meet her.
Saphira pierced the canopy of trees, and Eragon saw the elven city of Ellesmera spread out below him. The wood-sung buildings, the smell of grass and flowers, and the sound of a dozen streams brought back memories in a wave of nostalgia. He felt Saphira, Glaedr, and many of the other dragons, who were borrowing Saphira's senses, experience the same feeling.
Eragon heard and saw groups of elves appear out of their homes to see the three dragons. Up close, Eragon saw that Saphira was almost the exact same length as Thorn, though more slender, and easily several hundred pounds lighter.
As they touched down, the elves crowded the dragons while seeming to keep a polite distance as well. Eragon knew their manners would forbid such obvious ogling of the dragons, and to a lesser extent, himself. But at the same time, the elves always seemed more emotional whenever dragons were around, and Eragon knew that it was easier to speak to an elf when a dragon was nearby.
After a few waves and hellos Eragon saw Arya walking towards them, donning her royal robes and hairpiece, and he clambered out of Saphira's saddle in an awkward rush. He sensed Glaedr give an exasperated sigh. Eragon ignored him.
Even at a distance, Eragon's elf eyes saw a slight stiffness in Arya that he knew was saved for special occasions: an uncomfortable formal greeting, a cold-shoulder treatment, or when she tried to reserve conflicting emotions. But then again, it may have been a side effect of the stress of leadership. He would have to wait and see.
The queen split the throng of elves in silence as she approached Eragon. Fírnen walked over to her and she touched his snout with her palm. Eragon gazed intently at her while he twisted his hand over his chest in traditional greeting. Arya met his greeting with her own, and Eragon, unblinking, spoke the third line of their greeting. Arya cracked a grin and rolled her eyes a fraction, but Eragon thought she was glad to see him overall. Her restrained demeanor returned almost instantly, but Eragon was confident at least, it was not he that was giving her difficulties.
"Eragon Shadeslayer and Saphira Brightscales," Arya said, gesturing to the woods around her. "Welcome back to Alagaësia and to our home, Ellesmera."
"Thank you, Your Majesty" Eragon said, following her etiquette. "This place holds many fond memories for Saphira and myself. We hold it very dearly to our hearts."
"Your words are kind," Arya said, her face showing a smile that did not reach her eyes, though Eragon doubted any but he, Saphira, and Fírnen noticed. Behind him he felt the minds of the Eldunarí connecting with some of the elves in conversation. "If you would please follow, Murtagh would much like to see you."
"Of course," Eragon nodded. "After you, m'lady."
Arya turned and strode towards the structure she had while Eragon followed. Saphira remained in the clearing with Thorn and Fírnen. Eragon looked back to her. Time and place, he warned.
Go on, little one, Saphira said, motioning her head after Arya. Eragon nodded and walked quickly towards the queen.
As tempting as it was for Eragon to ask Arya about what was troubling her, he knew there would be time for that later, and as sharp as the elves' hearing was, he didn't expect any conversation they had in an open area to go unheard by others. So he walked in silence at Arya's side while she looked forward. A few minutes later they were in front of a large tree trunk that had several windows carved up and down it. There was a large wooden door that bore a crest Eragon did not recognize.
Inside the treehouse Eragon recognized all the telltale signs that elves had indeed built the residence, and he would have examined them further if a voice had not stirred him from his thoughts.
"Murtagh!" It was Arya, and her alarm started Eragon, who before he knew it had his hand on Brisingr's pommel. He looked to see his half brother standing before a man-sized mirror, next to a bed whose blankets were disheveled. Arya went on, "You're not supposed to be out of bed."
"I have strength enough to dress myself and walk about, Your Majesty," Murtagh replied, a shortness in his voice that Eragon guessed was the remnant of an argument.
Arya sighed. "Very well. Just please try not to strain yourself."
"It's good to see you, Murtagh," said Eragon, hoping to ease the tension. "How have your travels fared?"
"Well, brother," Murtagh said, dropping the bitterness in his tone. "Until recently, that is."
Arya stepped between them, and looked at Eragon, "Murtagh was—"
"I," Murtagh overrode her, "was being a fool, and paid the price. A small one at that, despite your healers' ramblings. Nothing to cause concern."
"I don't wish to nag at you, but I will tell you to have caution."
"Is that all, brother?" Murtagh asked, concealing what Eragon knew was an annoyed sigh.
"No," said Eragon, walking past Arya, and clasping Murtagh on the shoulder. "It's damn good to see you again."
Murtagh smiled, "And you, Eragon. How is Saphira?"
"She's growing faster than I imagined, and I must make a new saddle every few months," Eragon said proudly. "I imagine Thorn is the same?"
"Actually, it's the opposite," Murtagh said, seeming unbothered by it. "He seems to be the same size he was last year."
"A dragon knows how large it is supposed to be," Arya said, breaking her silence. "When his age catches up with his size, he will begin growing again."
"I'm relieved to hear it," Murtagh said, turning to Arya. "Thank you."
"So why have you called us here, brother? What troubles you?" Eragon asked.
"It is not worry I bring you," Murtagh said, correcting him. "But news... and the request of a favor. In our journey to make peace with our pasts, Thorn and I have had an idea, and it has taken hold of us in force."
"Well," said Eragon. "Out with it."
"We too have seen the curvature of the the earth, and we have decided to circle it."
"What a journey!" Eragon exclaimed, before he could help himself. Arya shot him a subtle glance of disapproval. "Oh, that will be a fantastic tale to hear."
"Should you survive it," Arya added. "The world beyond ours is ripe with dangers, Murtagh."
Murtagh looked at Arya as if she were a wall he had been beating his head against. "I am aware. Which is why this will be no sprint; I expect this journey to take several years, perhaps a decade even. And so I ask that you let me bring with me a few Eldunarí, Eragon, leader of the Riders. Their wisdom will likely mean the difference between life and death."
"I have no qualms with you taking the Eldunarí," Eragon said. "They must discuss it amongst themselves. I do, however, have my own two conditions. First: you may only take those that want to go with you. Second: should you come arrive at an impasse, you return to Alagaësia instead of confronting a fight you cannot win."
"I understand," Murtagh said. "This is a test for Thorn and me, not the dragons. I seek their wisdom, not their strength, and should the way be too treacherous, I shall submit and try again in a few years."
"What are your thoughts, Arya," Eragon asked. "The Eldunarí are as precious to you as they are to any other. Would you lend Murtagh their wisdom on his dangerous proving grounds."
Arya was silent, looking between the half brothers before she said, "I believe this is not a matter I can be unbiased in, so I shall hold my tongue here."
Eragon looked at her, searching her eyes with obvious interest. "Bias or not, I value your opinions highly, and, bias or not, you are one of three dragon Riders in existence. Will you not speak your mind to your friends?"
Arya became even more stiffened as she drew herself up to her full height. With a motion like that, Eragon was expecting harsh words, but the elf's were soft, and sympathetic. "I believe Murtagh a capable Rider in many aspects, and if he desires this grand exploration, I would happily see him off. However to send a Rider, his dragon, and several Eldunarí into the unknown seems folly after we sacrificed so much to free them. It feels like too great a risk."
"And what do you say to this, brother?" Eragon asked.
"I agree with her Majesty, the unknown is frightening, and I acknowledge that what we have gained is put in harm's way by stepping beyond charted territory. But Thorn and I won't know our place in this world until we know our limits. Our strength was handed to us on a silver platter, and we need to know that we've made it our own." Eragon was surprised at Murtagh's eloquence on the spot. The Rider continued, "Thorn and I will make this journey regardless of Eldunarí accompanying us. However, I believe the reward will be half as satisfying if only we are going to be there to experience it."
"And if you are killed by some unknown beast, and the Eldunarí broken in the chaos?" Arya asked.
"Then they will have flown further than any before them, and they will have to accept that as their end." Murtagh looked at Arya, who could not look any more rigid. "But it seems the problem truly weighing on your minds is my ability to walk away from a fight."
Eragon and Arya said nothing.
"I understand that," Murtagh said, in response to their silence. "But as important as this journey may be, I have more to live for than a simple competition of strength. I will not let myself, Thorn, or the Eldunarí come to harm." The last words he spoke were in the Ancient Language.
Part 3
Are you sure, Ebrithil? asked Saphira.
No, I am not, Saphira, said Glaedr. This will be a long and tiring trip, fraught with stress I am not sure I deserve. But I must travel with that man and his dragon if I am to understand them.
As you say, Master, Eragon said. He understood Glaedr's reasons, they were mature, and Eragon knew that it would be an incredible ordeal for the dragon, as well as Murtagh and Thorn. Then I wish you safe travels, and calm skies.
As do I, Saphira added.
I thank you both, Gleadr said in a low voice. Be sure to continue your studies under Umaroth. He has a greed of sorts to teach you in my absence. Listen well, for his words are wise and his experience vast.
Yes, Master, Eragon and Saphira said together. Then the Rider stood, shifting the Eldunarí's weight in his arms, and walked Glaedr over to Thorn, depositing the amber gem in a padded saddlebag.
Eragon turned to Murtagh, who was looking away from the Eldunarí pointedly. "Take good care of them, brother."
Murtagh paled slightly, and Eragon saw him tense up. "Do you trust me, Eragon? I know Arya does not, and I don't blame her, but I like to think know what I'm doing. Survival is a game I've played long before I had a reputation to concern myself with."
"I trust you with my life, Murtagh," Eragon said, as if it were obvious. "As does Saphira."
Aye, she said.
"You'll come back years from now with stories grander than any elf or dragon can remember, and you will be glad you went. Worry about what others think when you return."
"That we shall," Murtagh said, standing a little taller. "I think Thorn and I may come join you with the other Riders when we return. If the offer still stands, that is."
"We'll keep a room open for you two," Eragon grinned as he shook hands with his brother. The two returned to the clearing where Thorn, Saphira, Arya, Fírnen, and several other elves waited for them.
As they approached the others, Murtagh addressed them. "This is goodbye for now. We shall see you all again, be it in a month or a decade. But we shall return here to show you what we will have seen, mark my words."
And as Murtagh ascended to Thorn's saddle, the other dragons safely fastened, Thorn reared onto his hind legs and roared as he jumped skyward. Several labored wingstrokes later, the blood-red dragon cleared the treetops, tail swinging back and forth, and Murtagh and Thorn flew into the northern sky, to lands not ventured.
It's nice to be back here, Eragon said. He walked from Oromis' home towards the cliffside of the Crags of Tel'naeír, Saphira at his side. He and Saphira had come to the Crags after Murtagh's morning departure, and were enjoying the time away from prying eyes.
Their scent is still here. Saphira had been circling around the small hut for a quarter of an hour searching for things Eragon could not identify. It's an overwhelming memory.
Eragon stood, staring over Du Weldenvarden and feeling insignificant, for several minutes. From the top of the cliffs, he could see an endless sea of trees, unlike anything he had seen since he last stood in that place. He felt like his life had gone in a circle: after all of the sacrifice, struggle, happiness, and strife, to be standing on the other side of the battle with Galbatorix in a place he had trained to do that very task was a very strange feeling. Eragon felt some obscure sense of closure. But he knew his responsibilities had not disappeared, they had simply changed. As had he and Saphira. Are you ready to leave?
I believe I am, Saphira replied. She nuzzled Eragon's forehead before he climbed into her saddle and she set off.
Eragon and Saphira were staying the night in a large, hollowed out tree with a loft plenty big enough for Saphira, and as she approached it, Eragon sensed it was not empty. He reached out with his mind to find Arya and Fírnen in the loft, waiting for them, presumably. He did not seek to make a connection with either of them, allowing the pair of them their privacy. Instead, Eragon waited for Saphira to land in the loft, a tight fit even as both dragons curled to accommodate each other, and once he descended from Saphira's back he addressed Arya.
"Greetings, Arya Shadeslayer, and you as well, Fírnen," Eragon said pleasantly. "Is there something you wished to discuss?"
"I promised we would catch up," Arya said. Eragon noticed she was tense once more. "And I intend to keep that promise."
Eragon looked at Saphira. Do you mind?
Not at all, little one, she said. She turned to face the opening of the loft and dove off the ledge, unable to open her wings enough inside the hollow tree. Eragon looked down after her to see Saphira forcing her way upward, beating her wings hard to reverse her fall and break through the ceiling of trees. Arya must have had a similar conversation with her dragon, for Fírnen walked across the loft and mimicked Saphira.
The two Riders were quiet for a time, as Eragon strode over to what he hoped was a comfortable distance between them. The tension was not straining, nor was it at ease. Finally, though, Eragon said, "If you have more pressing matters, then by all means consider your promise fulfilled. You don't need to speak with me just because you promised you would."
"Forgive me," Arya said, still somewhat reserved. "Those words did not come out right, I didn't mean to offend you. I would very much like to speak with you, Eragon."
"I am not offended," Eragon said, though he wasn't entirely sure that was true. "I thank you for your time."
"What is your new home like?" Arya asked, genuine interest bubbling up under her stiff demeanor. "I would like to hear of it."
"It is wonderful," Eragon said. "But before that, I must ask you what troubles you, Arya? You look as if a board has replaced your spine, and your smiles have not reached your eyes once since I arrived here."
"I am not sure I know what you mean," the elf said slowly.
"Fírnen is not the only one who can see your distress, Arya. And he is not the only one you can confide in. Saphira will not be pleased if when I speak to her next I can't tell her what is making you upset."
"It is not something I would feel comfortable talking about," Arya said, looking away from Eragon. "Will you accept that I do not wish to discuss it?"
"I will... for now." Eragon said, frowning visibly. Then he smiled and sat down, leaning his back against the wall of the loft and stretching his legs out. Arya followed suit before he said, "I suggest you make yourself comfortable. I have much to tell you of the valley of the Riders."
And so Eragon talked, and Arya listened as he orated his journey. He told her how they sailed down the Edda River, arriving at a fork and choosing the southern branch, using an artisan's palate of adjectives and imagery. He told her of the mountain range that lay on the eastern side of the immeasurable plains, and the valley they had settled in. He showed her his memories of building his house with Bloödhgarm and Glaedr, and the view from the front of his house. He showed her the enormous streets and the library that dwarfed everything else.
Eragon talked while the afternoon turned into evening, and the patch of sky visible through the entrance to the loft changed from pale blue to pink, and finally into a deep crimson as the sun set beyond their view. As night sunk in, and the lanterns in the loft magically lit up, Eragon answered every question Arya had, from queries of the weather to inquiries of the stars' positions and movements. Arya would occasionally offer one of her own adventures with Fírnen, or an anecdote of her responsibilities as queen, but for the most part, she listened while Eragon went on and on about the wonders of his new home with Saphira.
Eragon knew that he was breaking down whatever restraints Arya had built up, slowly but surely. He knew that she had longed to see Doru Areaba—and the valley he spoke of was so like the old Riders' home. And he knew the enthusiasm he spoke with was slowly infecting the elf sitting beside him because he watched her face light up as he shared so many memories with her.
And at last, after the sun had set, while Eragon told her a story of Saphira running in her sleep, chasing some dreamt-up prey, Arya laughed. A beautiful, sing-song laugh that resonated with Eragon, and echoed through the air. Then, when her voice quieted, a tear rolled down her cheek.
"I'm sorry, Eragon," Arya said, raising a hand and wiping the tear away quickly. "It has been... a trying week, and it seems this was my breaking point."
But her words were drowned out by a heavy silence as Eragon took the elf's hand in his own. Arya flinched at the contact. Before she could pull away, Eragon looked her in the eyes. "Won't you tell me what is troubling you, Arya? I can't have you crying, you know."
She was silent, looking intensely in any other direction.
Eragon looked at the elf woman, watching her search desperately for an escape. He couldn't let her go, though. While Arya's emerald eyes looked anywhere and everywhere but at Eragon, he said, "You told me your true name, and I told you mine. Does that not make us important to one another? Or have you changed to the point that your name is no longer what you told me?"
"No," Arya said defensively, and suddenly she was not afraid to look angrily into Eragon's eyes. "I have not changed. Can you say the same?"
"Yes, I can," he said in the Ancient Language. In their common tongue, he added, "Is it that hard for you to tell me what's wrong?"
Arya was quiet for a minute, which was its own eternity of suffocating silence. Then, when another tear escaped her eye, she said, "It's you, Eragon."
The Rider recoiled at her words; of all the things he was expecting, this was not one of them. "What?"
Arya took her hand out of his, but strayed no further. "I am confused, Eragon. /You/ are confusing to me."
"I... But..." Eragon was grasping for words. "I'm making you cry?"
"Yes," Arya said harshly, pulling her knees to her chest. She stared at the floor, her midnight black hair forming curtains around her face, which Eragon expected was to hide more tears.
"I don't understand," he said softly.
"You smiled, Eragon!" Arya snapped, talking to the floor. Her tone was enough to tell the younger Rider to tread lightly.
"I still don't–"
"In the mirror, you smiled," Arya said again, more slowly. "After three years of not seeing you, or Saphira, I looked at you and you smiled, as if... as if it was easy. I..." She took a deep breath, pressing her forehead to her crossed arms. "With you standing there, positively chipper, I played along so as not to make a fool of myself—not that I avoided /that/ spectacle, in the end. I felt like you had moved on, Eragon. Like you had moved on, and left everything behind. Everything..."
"Including you," Eragon finished for her. "Arya, I–"
"And then, when you arrived here, you were still perfectly happy... all on your own." Arya's voice was rising, and her anger was obvious now. "I don't know how humans deal with the feelings I believe we shared Eragon, but elves take a long time to both accept and discard them. Three years may seem like a considerable time to you, but I assure you it is not to an elf. I thought you would have known better than to flaunt your... progress in putting your feelings behind you."
Eragon was quiet once more, letting what was said sink in. "Now you have offended me, Arya."
The elf glared at him, unblinking. Eragon thought there might have been a trace of satisfaction in her features.
Eragon continued, his voice soft, and his words slow to leave his mouth. There were both anger and relief in his words as he said, resulting in a strange monotone, "I was happy when we spoke in the mirror, because I was thinking the same thing I was three years ago."
Arya raised an eyebrow, but her scowl was still hard-set. Eragon pressed on, "It was the moment I saw you come out of Galbatorix's fortress with Fírnen's egg. It was then that what we accomplished truly set in. Galbatorix was dead, and there would be no more danger, no more war. Instead, there would be a renaissance of dragons. And that is why I haven't been depressed, or upset or bitter, or least of all moved on. It's because I've become rather taken with the idea that I've got the rest of my life to make you fall in love with me. So if you ever see me with an aloof grin, or making a fool of myself in some other manner, Saphira will be the first to tell you that's why."
Arya finally stirred at Eragon's words, "Era—"
But the Rider held up his hand, silencing the queen. "I'm in love with you, Arya. And put simply, there's really nothing you can do about it."
Eragon stood, and he noticed the moon rising over the treetop horizon in the distance. He looked at Arya once more and walked towards the stairs, knowing she would need some time to herself. He just hoped his words would be better received than his previous attempts. "I'm leaving in the morning," he said when he reached the staircase. Arya looked at him, her eyes were slightly puffy. "If I don't see you before then... well, it won't be another three years before we talk again. I promise. Goodnight, Arya."
The next morning, Eragon awoke in the chair he had situated himself in the night before. The sun had not yet risen, and Eragon had no memory of Arya coming down after him last night, nor were there any notes or messages for him. His faint hopes of success faded away, and were finally stomped out as he took a breath of cool morning air.
He understood. Arya was a very cautious soul when it came to matters of the heart, and she was a queen who could not so easily step down from her post on a whim. She had her people to look after, three races to make alliances with, and more important things to do than indulge her own romantic escapades.
That was a lie. Eragon did not understand. He knew Arya had feelings for him because just last night she said she could not move on from them so easily. He knew it would be perfectly acceptable for her to step down and go east with him to train new Riders. Another elf to could take her position.
All of his thoughts were conflicting as he sulked up the steps to where he sensed Saphira was. When he arrived at the loft, she comforted him immediately. I am sorry last night did not go as you would have hoped.
It's not your fault, Eragon pointed out. Then he smiled, But I appreciate it. Three years worth of planning, deciding what I would say to her to convince her to come with us, but nothing to show for it. Ah well... I've got a few more centuries to get it right.
That's the spirit, Saphira said.
Are you mocking me? Eragon asked.
Unfortunately, no. Saphira let out another of her growling laughs, and Eragon let out his own belly laugh. Shall we go?
I'm ready when you are, Eragon replied. He got her saddles from the corner he had tossed them to, and adjusted the straps accordingly. And so we leave Alagaësia once more.
We'll be back again someday, Saphira said brightly. We'll have to show Thorn and Murtagh the way, won't we?
Saphira set off, and Eragon didn't look back as they soared away from the elven city, trying to leave his heartbreak behind.
After a few hours of quiet flight, Eragon broke the silence, I never asked. How was your night?
Saphira chuckled, You were right. It seems I don't have much competition for Fírnen.
Sorry I kind of kicked you out last night. When did you come back?
It was two hours into the night, Saphira thought. Arya was gone and I sensed you dreaming at the bottom of the tree. And worry not, little one. I had a my own fun last night.
You can keep the details to yourself, Eragon replied, wincing as if to block out potential images.
It was nothing indecent, Saphira scofed, offended. Fírnen is a perfect gentledragon.
Is he now?
Indeed he is, she said, and would hear no more on the matter.
Part 4
The sun rose over the peak of a mountain, but Eragon did not notice, because he was sleeping more soundly than he had in a week. In fact, the sun was several hours into its daily voyage before Eragon woke. He glanced his surroundings when he did and was relieved.
He had taken refuge from the night before on a bed that was not his own, nor was he sure whose it was. However it had been there to catch him, and he was grateful for that. Sitting upright, Eragon searched for Saphira's mind with his own, and found her to be impressively unconscious in the patch of grass by the walkway in front of his their house. Eragon rose from the unknown bed, remade it, and walked to his house, shielding his eyes from the unusually bright sunlight most of the way.
As he made his way up the trail to his house, which was steeper, and more tiring than he remembered, Eragon saw the tip of Saphira's tail dangling over the edge of the small bluff. Chuckling to himself, he finally arrived at the cobblestone walkway to his house, and proceeded inside to make a remedy for what he came to accept as a hangover.
The night before was the three-year anniversary of Eragon's, Saphira's, and the elves' settling in the valley. Knowing he wasn't in any condition for his usual exercises, Eragon skipped his sessions of both the Rimgar and sword practice. As he searched his house for what he could remember of Brom's ideas to cure a hangover, Saphira awoke, and Eragon noticed her thoughts were clear as day.
Have you ever felt the effects of drinking too much?
Dragons can handle alcohol better than humans or elves, she said simply. Eragon grumbled something to himself before fixing a cup of tea, and heating it with magic. He returned outside and sat down next to Saphira, who had not moved other than to roll onto her stomach so that she wasn't looking at things upside down.
The two of them spent the day in the grass next to the pathway, and as Eragon sipped his tea, he conversed with Saphira about nothing in particular. They watched the elves walk a bit more delicately in the streets between their houses, and Eragon assumed most of them also had headaches to nurse. The day was warm and sunny, with a light breeze whistling through the mountains and the trees. As the afternoon came, his headache began to recede and he could move about without aggravating it.
Eragon rose to go put his tea mug back into his house while Saphira remained where she was. He meandered back indoors, and as he washed the mug, Eragon felt Saphira calling to him excitedly, and he was pleased to find that his head didn't respond violently.
You had best come here, little one. And hurry, she said urgently.
What is it? Eragon asked.
Come see for yourself. Eragon walked as quickly as he could to the front of his home, where Saphira was waiting for him. She turned her mighty, glimmering head towards the sun, and Eragon squinted to see what she had seen.
Then he saw it. Off in the distance, growing larger each moment, was an unmistakably-green dot, breathing unmistakably-green fire.
P.S.
And they lived happily ever after, bitches.
Author's Note: So that's about it. I enjoyed writing it, for the most part. Writing dialogue for Eragon and Arya is FUCKING HARD. Because Mr. Paolini does the "ye olde" style of wording, but just modern enough to keep us from being like "AAAAAHHHHHHH! CONFUSINGGGG..." So if you go back and read this, count up all the times i use 'as'. it's kind of ridiculous.
As I said, this is my first oneshot, so reviews would be nice. I just hope some people like it. I'm not going to write their reunion scene. Everyone has their own ideas with what should happen when Arya finally breaks down says the L word (not 'lesbian') and I feel like I would be ruining it for everyone and their different (and probably better) ideas. There's a very open awesomeness in that everyone still has a chance for their "perfect scene" to occur, and I'm not screwing that up for them.
And this way you can imagine what they do afterward for the next thousand years, so I don't have to mess that up for you all, either.
*UPDATE 3/27/13
As I blabbered in the updated top A/N, I'm going to put up a new chapter. Once upon a time I was going to do a second chapter as a continuation. It was going to take place maybe fifteen years later, with two or three new Riders and Eragon was going to be invited to a sort of Olympics type thing in Alegaesia that Nasuada was hosting. He, Arya and the Riders were going to go watch. There was also some convoluted thing I was going to put in about Nasuada becoming a Rider or something, but that's a ridiculously major point of debate, so ultimately I scrapped the chapter.
HOWEVER: You guys have been super great with reviews, so as a THANK YOU I'm going to write out a scene that takes place after Arya and Fírnen touch down in Rider Valley. It's going to be fluffy, that's about all I can say. It might be three weeks later, it might be 300 years later. Ok, it won't be that far off. Oh, and there won't be any ExA offspring. Murtagh might be back, he might not. Nasuada might be in it or might not. There might be new Riders, there might not. I'm not sure about anything. Except those two things I said. Fluff, no kids. Those things.
So yeah. Please review. It's not that hard, and I'd like to know if I did a good job with dialogue. I'll respond back, too :P