Hey everyone!

This strange idea for a oneshot sort of hit me when I was listening to a song called "Stormande hav". It can be translated as "Storming sea", if anyone is interested ...

Anyway, it's very, very fluffy ... But I enjoyed writing it, and I hope you enjoy reading it just as much!

Oh, and I nearly forgot! (Actually, I did forget about this. This is an update.) I'm changing POV in the middle of the story, from Eragon to Arya. The line shows where the change takes place.

A Midsummer Eve

The light from the rising sun, that shone right through the window of his room, gently pulled Eragon out of his waking dreams. He squeezed his eyes shut, in a pointless effort to keep the light away from him. Eventually, he knew he must get up, but not quite yet. Of course, the few seconds he got before he had to return into the waking world could hardly be counted as a long time, but it was long enough for a thousand thoughts to flash through his mind.

Ten years, he thought, feeling the warmth from the sun on his face. Ten years since that terrible night when he had left Alagaësia for what he had considered to be a journey from which he would never return. And yet, here he lay, in the house where Roran, Katrina and Ismira lived their quiet lives together. They were in Carvahall, which had, on Roran's orders, been rebuilt, to look almost exactly like it had done before the Ra'zac came and destroyed the village. Of course, there were a few differences that Eragon noticed only because he had known the village so well before, but he would never allow such small details to matter to him. And here, he and Saphira were going to celebrate Midsummer Eve.

He was not going to spend the day alone with Roran and his family, however, for both Arya, Nasuada and, to Eragon's slight surprise, Angela had been invited. And all three women had accepted the invitation, even though both Nasuada and Arya had high positions, Nasuada as queen of the Empire and Arya as queen of Du Weldenvarden. It delighted Eragon's heart especially that Arya and Fírnen had chosen to come. He knew that his feelings toward the elf with the black hair and the slanted green eyes would never change, and just to think about the time he would spend with her now was enough to make his eyes snap open.

The room he lay in was small, with walls that were completely bare. But still, it had a sense of comfort which Eragon had registered as soon as he entered it for the first time, yesterday evening.

Yesterday evening, he thought as he jumped out of bed and started throwing on his clothes. His mind flew back to the moment when they had all seen each other for the first time in ten long years, on the lawn in front of the house.

Saphira had dived out of the sky so quickly, that Eragon was hurled flat against her neck, his eyes filled with tears because of the wind.

It had been a confused welcoming, with Roran patting Eragon hard on the back and shouting things that he could not make out over the babbling of everyone else. With Katrina simply looking at him, her eyes filled with tears, just like when he had departed. And Ismira, who stood shily next to her mother, gazing at him with clear admiration in her eyes. Evidently, she had heard a lot of stories about 'Eragon Shadeslayer'.

But soon, Eragon's attention had shifted to another person. She stood a little apart from the others, as though she did not want to throw herself into the group of people surrounding Eragon. Her eyes, however, never left his face.

The feeling of warmth that had flooded his mind as he looked into Arya's eyes again had forced him to step away from his family and walk towards her. He had raised his hand to his lips, but Arya had surprised him by speaking first:

"Atra esterní ono thelduin."

A smile touched Eragon's lips as he recalled that moment in his head. Saphira had said that Arya only did it because she saw Eragon as the leader of the Riders, and perhaps that was the truth. But, nevertheless, Eragon found it hard to stop thinking about it now.

A loud knock on his door rudely pulled Eragon back to the reality, followed by a voice that shouted:

"Eragon! Eragon! Are you up yet, you sleepy boy?"

Suppressing a sigh, Eragon went over to the door and opened it, to stare right into Angela's eyes.

"Oh, good!" the herbalist said as she saw him. "You are awake, after all."

"How could I not be after that?" Eragon grumbled, causing Angela to laugh, clearly satisfied.

"We need you", she said. "And I would appreciate it if you hurried up just a bit."

"Need me?" Eragon repeated, wondering what problem he would have to solve this time.

As the leader of the Riders, he had come to know that sentence only too well. "I need you." "We need you." There was always someone who needed his or Saphira's help with one thing or another.

"So that you can fill this empty chair at the table, of course", said Angela, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Oh!"

Eragon felt the smile twist his lips as he walked with Angela out into the kitchen and seated himself at the table, around which everyone else already sat.

- That was an interesting way of telling you that breakfast is ready, don't you think?

The smile on Eragon's face got even wider as the familiar voice and presence of his blue dragon flowed into his mind. He had been missing his connection with Saphira ever since they landed and she flew off with Fírnen, even though he knew he would never have the heart to ask her to stay with him. Not when he too felt her urge to fly with the emerald-green dragon for as long as it was possible.

- Good morning, Saphira, said Eragon. Where are you?

Saphira sent him a picture of herself and Fírnen, soaring high above the mountains of the Spine, the light of the rising sun shining down on them.

- Thank you, Eragon said, even though he did not in any way recognize the terrain. Just make sure to be back in the afternoon.

- We will, little one, Saphira assured him. Arya has already told Fírnen exactly the same. Now, what do you think of Angela's way of waking you?

- She did not wake me, Eragon corrected, a statement which Saphira completely ignored.

- I guess I should learn from her, the dragon said.

- Oh, if you do that, Saphira, I won't get more than a few hours of sleep, Eragon told her, sighing defeatedly at the very thought.

He was sure that at least one flock of birds was scared away by Saphira's roaring laughter.

"So", said Nasuada. "A nice day, isn't it?"

"Certainly nicer than last year", Roran agreed. "Do you remember how much it rained? We could hardly decorate our maypole."

"Well, I guess we could have done it properly", Katrina informed him. "I think the thing was that neither of us wanted to stay out for long enough to do it."

Ismira laughed, then said:

"Yes, this is much better than rain. But do you remember that time when we sat by that brook in the rain, and Arya had cast a spell to protect us from the water? That was nice, and then it was raining too. So rain can be nice, sometimes."

Both Roran and Katrina nodded at this, and Angela said:

"Nice logic there, Ismira. You're learning fast."

Eragon, however, was not quite listening. At Ismira's words, he had turned to look at Arya, who had remained quiet until then. There was a faint smile on her face. As she noticed Eragon's questioning look, she said:

"It was several years ago. We had slept in the wilderness, but did not have time to return to the house before the rain came."

"What were you doing out in the wilderness?" Eragon asked, thinking of how the villagers of Carvahall had avoided the wild mountains when he was younger.

"Well", said Arya, looking around at Roran, Katrina and Ismira. "As a matter of fact, we were travelling to the place where you found Saphira's egg. Just to see it. But it was so long ago, I am surprised Ismira even remembers it."

"I don't really remember it", Ismira admitted. "I don't remember where we slept, and I don't remember any walking."

"That's because Katrina carried you, naturally", Angela put in absently. "You can't remember walking if you didn't do it. That's only logical."

"How can you know that?" Katrina asked, appearing startled.

"Because", said Angela, raising an eyebrow at her, "I know a lot of things. I thought everyone at this table knew that by now."

At this, they all broke into another fit of laughter.

Eragon spent an enjoyable morning together with Arya, decorating the maypole that lay on the lawn in front of the house. It was a job that could be done in complete silence, a silence which neither of them was willing to break. However, Eragon could not keep from glancing over at Arya every now and then. And he noticed how much she smiled, and how bright her eyes were as she inspected a new flower she had just picked, and how much energy and concentration she put into her work. He had learnt that Midsummer was an important celebration among the elves, but some part of him, deep down, knew that there must be another reason for her apparent happiness as well.

When they were finally finished, Nasuada had come out too, and was watching the result with an approving expression.

"Well done", she said, smiling.

She took a closer look at the maypole and frowned, before continuing:

"I didn't know all those flowers could grow here. You know, since the winters are so long and cold."

"Well", Eragon admitted, throwing another sideways glance at Arya. "All of them don't. But ..."

He trailed off, but Nasuada had evidently understood what he meant. She chuckled, but dropped the subject.

In the afternoon, everyone gathered on the lawn, and Eragon and Arya raised the maypole together. The dragons had come back too, and were circling in the air above them.

- Aren't you going to land? Eragon asked Saphira, who responded:

- We thought we'd better not. There isn't enough space for us down there, and we like it better here.

- Well, of course you do, he said.

"So", Roran called, interrupting the conversations that had stared. "I guess we should simply begin dancing. Everyone, take each other's hands and stand in a ring around the ..."

"And since everyone here knows how to do this already, I think we could skip these boring instructions. Don't you?" Anela interrupted. "And please, excuse the rudeness."

- Well, Eragon, Saphira said as everyone, laughing, followed Roran's instructions. You were worried about anyone having changed when you returned. Now we know at least one person who hasn't.

- And who probably never will, Eragon finished the sentence.

Then, he reached out to take Roran's hand in his left and Arya's in his right. And they danced around the maypole together.

They raced around the maypole, faster and faster, their feet almost flying across the ground. Of course, they did not run as fast as Arya would have been able to, but fast enough for the wind to blow all the hair out of her face. And they sang. Some of the songs were considered ridiculous among the elves, invented by humans who appeared to have had nothing else to do than write odd lyrics, but Arya hardly cared now.

Presently, someone - Arya was not sure who - tripped, pulling the others down too, until they all lay on the ground. Arya lost her grip on Nasuada's hand, but Eragon held on to her, clung to her.

It was a strange feeling for Arya, to be lying here in the grass, together with the leader of the Varden, the leader of the Riders, the leader of Carvahall, Katrina and Angela. But yet, however strange it might feel to her, she also knew that it was quite right. No matter the differences between them, they had joined together during the war, and time did not seem to have changed that in any way. They were one large family, a family who had been apart for too long.

Later that night, when it was as dark as it was ever going to get on the lightest day of the year, Arya sat alone in the grass, staring up at the sky. It had gone long since she had stopped trying to understand the happiness that she was experiencing. Now, she simply let it take over her soul. It was unusual for her to let herself be carried away like this by any kind of emotion, which was why she had spent so much of the day trying to understand her reason for doing it now. But perhaps it would never make sense to her. Perhaps it did not need to make sense.

"Arya?"

Looking away from the sky, Arya found that Eragon had sat down next to her in the damp grass.

"Are you going to stay up all night?" he asked, his voice quiet.

"I think so", she replied, even though she had not considered it until he asked her about it. "It is so light now that it seems pointless to sleep."

Eragon nodded.

For a few minutes, they sat in silence, listening to the singing of the birds and the rustling that was made as a breeze stirred the grass around them.

Then, the silence was broken as Ismira and Hope came running across the lawn towards them. Hope lived together with her parents, Horst and Elain, in the centre of Carvahall, and she had been friends with Ismira for as long as she had lived. The two were, Arya knew, inseparable.

"Are these the same as we found last year?" Ismira asked Arya, holding out a bouquet of flowers. "You know, the ones I thought were magical."

Arya laughed as she responded:

"Yes, they are the same."

"I told you so!" Hope exclaimed, giving Ismira a smile of clear satisfaction. "You just wouldn't listen."

"Oh, never mind", Ismira shrugged. "Let's go looking for some other flower! There must be some magical flower or tree around here."

And the two girls ran off again, their voices fading and blending with all the other sounds of the nature.

Arya watched the two girls until she could see them no more, thinking that this had been a very good Midsummer Eve. And she kknew, without having to look into anyone's mind, that they all felt the same as she did. It was something they had to do again.