Book V
Eragon rested his forearms on the prow of the Elven ship, looking over the expanse of water that was the Edda River. Three days and nights had passed since he had seen Arya, for the last time. Her raven hair blowing in the wind seconds before Firnen had snatched her, speaking her last word to him, farewell. Even now the memory brought tears forth from his eyes, which streamed down his cheeks, hot and then cool in the early morning air. He looked up, the wind washing over his face as he watched the gleaming rays of the morning sun shine their first beams over the desolate plains. Blodgharm and the other Elven spellcasters who accompanied him were still, lost in their waking dreams that he knew so well. Those dreams had escaped Eragon these last few nights, Replaced by the memory of Arya's Expression as she bade him a final farewell. He thought he saw a twinge of deep pain in her bright eyes as he again looked upon the memory, but whether that was real, or a twist of his wishful thinking was lost to him. The memory prompted another torrent of tears to slowly slide down his cheeks and fall to the deck below.
"Little one", Saphira's voice sounded in his mind "Are you alright?"
"No, I don't think I am." he replied
She shifted her position on the deck of the ship, turning to look him in the eye "What's wrong", she said "Are you injured? Does someone approach?"
"No, my wounds are not physical." He murmured, both aloud and in his mind. A recognition swept through Saphira, and Eragon knew she understood. "Go back to sleep," he said, softly "there is no cure for me save time, if even that."
She thought for a moment, a rumble emitting from her chest, and said "Of that, there is no doubt little one." After a moments pause, she said "Try not to dwell on it, little one, only she could decide where she wanted to go."
"I know." He said, and after a long pause "Do you think she might change her mind?"
"I think not, little one, but then an elf's mind is a difficult thing to understand. Let alone predict. Again I say do not dwell on it. Whatever will be, will be, little one." But he knew that he could not. Every time he closed his eyes, her enthralling visage burned in his mind. Maddening, crushing, oppressive emptiness filled him more and more with the passing of each day, almost as if corresponding with his distance from Arya.
After many hours he forced his way out of his painful trance to focus on the present, though Arya still hung like a cloud over his mind. Eragon returned from the depths of his thought just as the sun crested the mountains that had begun looming in the distance over the course of the previous day. The light roused the elves from their waking dreams, and they set about inspecting the ship and preparing for another day of gliding through the countryside. It was only after Saphira pointed it out to him that Eragon realized clumps of trees were becoming more common along the river's banks. He peered ahead of the ship, and saw a line of trees in the distance, though how far away they were he knew not. Blodgharm joined him on the prow, "Argetlam," he said in greeting.
"Good morning Blodgharm," he said, trying to sound as cheerful as possible "do you see the trees in the distance?"
"Indeed I do, shadeslayer." He purred, evidently pleased with the prospect of once again being amongst trees.
"Do your people have a name for this place?" asked Eragon, desperate to distract himself from the shadows inside.
"No Argetlam, We are further east than any Elf, Dwarf, Human, or rider of Alagaesia has been and returned to tell of it." He said quietly.
"Good," he said "Then we may begin searching for a new place the riders may call home."
"Blodgharm, Argetlam!" the voice of Rhanduil, a golden haired Elven woman who had joined the group of elves accompanying Eragon at Silthrim, echoed from the back of the ship, near the rudder. Eragon and Blodgharm raced to where she stood , peering into the distance over the side of the ship. They followed her eyes out over the plains where they saw a dark shape lumbering through the grass. Eragon's vision being as good as it was, he could see every detail of the strange gray creature. That it was huge, Eragon had noticed immediately, But perhaps the strangest detail was the long flexible appendage that drooped from the creatures snout or the huge fan-like ears that waved back and forth. Eragon reached out with his mind, thinking to find some dumb animal, but instead he was met with a strange intelligence, one so alien he couldn't hope to understand, but an intelligence nonetheless.
"What is it?" asked Eragon incredulously
"Never have I encountered one such as this, shadeslayer. Nor have I read of them." Replied Blodgharm
"Nor have I," stated Rhanduil
"They're lmost the size of a dragon" he said, using his mind to speak both to Saphira and the elves with him
At this saphira snorted, peering down her snout disdainfully at the creature she said "Hardly. It is small compared to me or thorn, let alone Belgabad or Shruikan. From what I have learned from Glaedr-elda, I know that most dragons alive at the fall of the riders would have been larger at least than Firnen and I." She looked at it again, this time a new expression on her face, as she sniffed the air and licked her lips and proceeded to say "However it is quite large, and smells quite good. I could use a challenge, the idea of game as strong as that appears to be exci…"
In the distance, he heard a faint; flap…flap…flap… and he started. Even being in such close proximity to Saphira, Thorn, and Firnen he had not gained the ability to judge whether the sound was a distant dragon or a close by bat or bird but too often his mind had allowed him that hope that drove the nail further into his heart. This time, however, he felt Saphira's head snap around and her words cease on his mind through their bond to look towards whatever it was making the faint: Flap…flap…flap…
Choices made, oaths broken
Arya shielded her eyes from the driving wind. She and Firnen had flown far above the clouds in their desperate search for the one she only now knew, as he was slipping away, she loved, Eragon. She railed against the despair creeping over her as she pictured his face, so handsome and mature despite his short number of years. She clutched the fairth he had made of her close to her chest, pressing it against her bosom. Struggling as hard as Firnen could, he drove them soaring forward, tracing the gleaming white capped surface of the Edda River.
For what seemed like an incredible length of time, Arya and Firnen fought howling wind and pounding rain till finally, she and he both agreed they must stop. The next day however, the storm abated, and they could fly far and fast as they could. She But soon she saw that they wouldn't need to worry about the distance, as Eragon's ship came up from under the horizon.
"ERAGON!" She cried out with her mind desperately, her eyes darting between the smudged figures of those on the deck of the elven ship.
"ARYA!" replied the one she so longed to see.
Firnen dove, gaining speed as he plummeted toward the elven ship. Then, just before colliding with the ship, Firnen flared his wings outward and he slowed. Alighting on the deck, he sent a tremor through the small vessel. Arya hastened to loosen the straps along her legs, struggling with the buckles when suddenly someone released a spell that loosened all those that remained. She leaped from Firnen's back in the direction of whoever had cast the spell and landed lightly right in front of Eragon.
Such happiness as she had never felt filled Arya's being as she beheld him again, the man she loved and believed would never see again. She coiled like a lioness preparing to pounce on her prey before launching herself at Eragon. They both fell backward, she on top of him, and, after landing on the deck with a thud, peered into each others eyes. Eragon was stunned by her sudden attack it seemed, and simply peered at her bewildered as she stared into his deep blue eyes. He moved as if to say something and she darted forward, sealing his lips with hers, and ending any thoughts of protest from Eragon.