Christmas has been celebrated year after year, and Alagaesia is not an exception. Though the elves don't believe in any gods, they still celebrate each others company and participate in the act of giving gifts to one another.

Eragon was pacing inside their Treehouse in Elesmera. He had a gift for everyone he could think of, except for one. That one would, as fate seemed to have it, was Saphira. The most important being in his life, whom he shared day in and day out with. It was not an easy matter, nor should it be.

Eragon, what are you doing tonight? Saphira spoke into his mind. Her voice was a tender one, slightly above a whisper. It made him smile and he simply replied, Nothing, why?

No reason. With that she blocked off her mind so she couldn't see his thoughts. He knew she was planning something for him, he just couldn't figure out what. He even resorted to asking Arya, since her and Saphira had been seen talking together. She was no help, she just grinned and shook her head. Oh well, he hadn't expected to receive an answer.

But he wouldn't allow himself to ponder over this. He desperately needed a gift, for tonight was when they were to exchange them! But what did Saphira want more than anything in the world? I could write a poem. He thought, but then pushed that idea aside when he remembered his last attempt at writing a poem. He had stopped at the second sentence when it had dawned on him that he had been sitting with a quill in his hand and paper in front of him for nearly half an hour.

So he wasn't very creative. No matter. He would think of something, that much was certain.

-----

Saphira was in mid-panic attack. What could Eragon possibly want? She had thought of everything, and she even asked Arya for advice. To which she simply advised, "Make it something special." That hardly helped. They had to exchange gifts tonight, and she still didn't have anything.

What did Eragon want more than anything else? The question seemed to have no answer. Until it struck her. Who said the gift had to be a material thing?

Eragon, what are you doing tonight?

-----

Later that evening

"Where are we going?" Eragon yelled at the top of his lungs to make himself heard over the winds raging past them.

You'll see, little one. She replied. Her eyes were filled to the brim with excitement and it reflected in her voice. What could she possibly be so excited about?

They flew over many elves in the city, some talking, some exchanging gifts and others dancing. Sweet music drifted through the cool air up into Eragons ears and the smell of hot food wafted up to him also. To his surprise though they kept on flying and ignored the festivities. Then in the distance something caught his eye. At least two dozen spellcasters kneeled around a medium sized lake. They had their eyes closed and seemed oblivious to Eragon and Saphira as they chanted their spells. Arya was among them, but she glanced up for a moment before she continued to chant.

"What is this?" Eragon asked, confused. Saphira put on a burst of speed and before Eragon could even take a breath they plunged into the water together.

He lost his grip on her spike and opened his eyes in panic. He expected to find himself unable to breath but to his utter shock he could breathe perfectly fine. But his limbs felt icy cold. He couldn't move them, and he sunk. His eyes focused and he saw Saphira in front of him, her scales almost matching the color of the water. Eragon looked down. Despite the clear water he could see no bottom.

Saphira was sinking too, and he met her eyes in one quick moment. Though her eyes reflected none of the fear in his own, only calm peacefulness.

This is my gift to you and the rest of Alagaesia. Her voice was steady, containing only happiness. And to the dragon race. She added shyly.

The icy chill over his limbs vanished, and he found he could move again. He blinked and found he could no longer breathe. Saphira seemed to be having the same problem.

Eragon felt the bottom of the lake, and with great effort he pushed himself off the bottom of the lake. His wings were laid flat at his side and he broke through the surface in a shower of droplets. He hovered above the lake for a second, embracing the cool air and the water that rolled off his black scales. Saphira joined him, and they were met by applause from the spellcasters, who had stopped their chanting.

The moon shown brighter than ever behind them, and they were oblivious to the cheering around them. They stared at each other for what felt like an eternity before they finally spoke together, as one.

Merry Christmas.