His Wyrda

Chapter 1

Eragon stepped carefully out of his beautiful tree home, testing the very currents of the early-morning air with his new Elvin senses. The entire forest exuded life, growth. He breathed it all in wondrously. The awe of Ellesmera still occasionally took him by surprise. He looked up as Saphira drifted lazily down to meet him at the base of their tree. Eragon instinctively reached a hand out to touch the brilliant sapphire scales of her rock-hard skin. He patted her softly as she arched her entire body to stretch her rippling muscles.

She hummed contentedly and said, "Beautiful day, little one. Is it not?"

"Hmm…" agreed Eragon, distracted by his thoughts.

This was his third week in Ellesmera, at the heart of Du Weldenvarden, where his second round of training was commencing. He tensed then relaxed each of his muscles, feeling the slight throb present in all his limbs. He was sore in places he did not think possible.

Upon his return, Eragon had resumed his sparring with Vanir. But now, the task was unbelievable harder since a second opponent would join Vanir in the fight. A different elf would assist Vanir each day, so that Eragon had no chance of becoming accustomed to their fighting style. His mental training was harder than ever, and he was proud of his growing success at every task Oromis and Glaedr set before him.

His thoughts drifted to the Battle of the Burning Plains. A vision of Murtagh's accusing finger pointing down at him clouded his vision. Ignoring the mental agony thoughts of Murtagh produced, Eragon pushed the dulling pain to the back of his mind. The events that had occurred during the weeks following the battle whirled through his head like a whirlwind.

King Hrothgar's funeral- the mourning faces of the heart-broken dwarves laying Hrothgar into his eternal resting place of stone. The haggard face of Nasuada- doing her best to regroup and reorganize the chaotic dealings of the Varden. Eragon felt a surge of pride for the young leader. She was doing Ajihad proud as his daughter and as his successor, keeping her voice strong, asserting her authority, but also showing compassion when the situation called.

Yes, Nasuada was doing just fine. However, at the time, Eragon had not been as well glued together. For the most part, he had managed to keep his face clear of the emotions boiling inside him. He spoke strong, proud words at Hrothgar's funeral. He kept his peace around the soldiers, not wanting to show weakness as the Varden's only rider. Yes, he too was doing just fine- on the surface.

Only those close to him knew the truth behind the blank expression of his face and the tight control he kept over his eyes. Of course, he could hide nothing from Saphira. She knew him backwards and forwards, and during this time, Eragon found himself thanking whatever gods that be for giving him a companion who could understand his deepest thoughts and insecurities. But Saphira was not alone in her knowledge of Eragon's suffering.

Orik had noticed how Saphira would become nervous if a crowd pressed too close to Eragon. How she would anxiously check his face every few moments to make sure he would not break down in front of a large group. Nasuada had also studied the dark purple rings forming underneath Eragon's emotionless eyes. She had felt him flinch at every mention of Murtagh or Morzan, but her duties demanded all of her time, so she had little opportunity to discuss Eragon's grief. And then there was Arya.

Eragon found himself incapable of hiding anything from the elf. Every time her deep emerald green eyes pierced into his own, it was as if he no longer had the strength or will to keep up his defenses. She seemed to see down to his very soul every time her eyes locked with his. This frightened Eragon that he could hide nothing from her and caused paradoxical emotions to arise in him each time he saw her.

The sensible part of his mind told him to run for it, to avoid her if at all possible. For one, he did not like being so easy to read. His emotions and pain should be his own, not broadcast uncontrollably to the flawless elf by his traitor eyes. Also, Eragon was afraid of how much of him Arya would see, how much she would read in his eyes. He labored intensely with himself to control his feelings, but he was certain that when her icy stare froze him in his place, he would not be able to reign in his tumultuous thoughts.

He decided that Arya clearly had no interest in him romantically, and he had no desire to isolate himself further from her by letting his eyes confess his profound love every time she looked at him. No, that would not help things at all. So, for all of these reasons, he attempted to avoid Arya all together. He did not entirely succeed.

The not-so-logical side of Eragon's mind fought the idea of avoiding Arya immensely. He wanted to see her, to talk to her, to hear her musical voice. Her presence always soothed him. When Eragon felt he was at a breaking point, Arya was the one to bring him together again. He just had to make sure to not look at her eyes.

Eragon snorted with quiet humor as he wondered what Arya had thought of him during his moments of incoherent contradictions. Saphira huffed with him as she listened to his thoughts.

"She must think me so strange, Saphira. My heart explodes upon seeing her, and I feel like I could never leave her side. But then, as soon as she is about to say something to me, I find some reason to excuse myself and bolt. No question about it. She must think me a madman."

"Not necessarily," Saphira stated slowly. "I only think she is concerned for you. You may be able to hide your thoughts from most, but Arya has known you too long for that."

Eragon whirled around to face his dragon. "What did she say to you? What haven't you told me?" he hissed at her.

Saphira regarded him calmly. "The conversations between Arya and I are private. I find the idea of breaking an elf's trust, especially an elf as powerful as Arya, very unappealing."

Eragon regarded Saphira's smug expression and turned abruptly away, blustering in anger.

After stomping around Du Weldenvarden for nearly ten minutes, Eragon forced himself to come to a halt. He knew he was being unreasonable. Saphira had every right to converse with anyone she chose to, and she also had the right to keep those words hidden from him. If it had been about anyone other than a specific raven-haired elf, Eragon would not have had a problem. But this, this was about Arya.

Any opportunity to understand the complexities of her mind excited Eragon immensely. His own conversations with Arya were pleasant enough on the surface, but he always found that at the end of these conversations that he had learned little about her, if anything at all. The chance to hear her thoughts with Saphira, especially her thoughts about him, was driving him completely insane. "Stop it!" he commanded himself. "Oromis has trained you better than this."

Eragon took a deep breath to steady himself and returned to Saphira. She eyed him warily. 'I am sorry. I should not have reacted as such."

"I'm just glad your little tantrum is over. It would have been quite embarrassing if anyone had seen you puffed up like a blowfish."

He smiled at her, happy to be forgiven. "I'm glad you think so highly of me," he retorted.

Continuing as before, dragon and rider proceeded with their morning walk. Eragon paused for a moment to stand before a glistening streambed, and Saphira took the opportunity to study her rider.

His tousled, wavy hair hung only an inch or so above his shoulders. The slight breeze that whispered through the tree trunks played with the ends of it gently. Before, his hair had been quite long, but he had cut it upon arriving in Ellesmera. Eragon had expressed to Saphira that keeping his unruly hair long while around the elves' perfectly straight locks would make him appear scraggly and unkempt. But Eragon had not cut it too short. Saphira found the way his long bangs would occasionally fall down over his eyes to be rather endearing.

Eragon had changed so much since leaving Carvahall. His intense training had shaped his body into a hard mass of rippling strength. But his impressive muscles made him anything but stocky due to the Elvin influences from his transformation at the Agaeti Blodhren. His grace and flowing movements made him at home in Du Weldenvarden, but the squareness of his shoulders and the defined muscles of his chest, biceps, and legs were completely unique among the elves.

Saphira hummed quietly to herself as they resumed their walk. Her rider was turning out just fine. One day she knew he would find someone to spend the rest of his long life with, and that woman would be lucky indeed to find herself with Eragon Shadeslayer.

They continued on at an easy pace to the training fields, so Eragon could spar with Vanir and whatever elf decided to join them today. The pine needles rustled gently underneath their feet as they made their way along the faint trails beneath the majestic pines of Ellesmera. Soon they drew near to a small group of elves conversing quietly in their harmonious voices.

"Aye. I hear that she will arrive sometime this morning."

"I heard that as well. It will be good to see the Princess again. She has spent too long away from our city. The atmosphere of the human world would surly dampen any person's spirits."

"Hush now, Naduwen!" said the tallest elf sharply. "Mind your words and their implications."

When Eragon stepped past them, he carefully placed a distracted look on his face, as if he had been too preoccupied to notice their conversation. When a safe distance had passed between Eragon and the elves, he let out a gust of air he had not realized he was holding. He had unconsciously stopped breathing the moment his sensitive ears had registered the word "princess." He knew of only one princess, and the elf's reproached comment confirmed what he expected, nay, hoped for. Arya.

Letting his thoughts drift across his mental connection with Saphira he said, "Why would Arya be returning to Ellesmera? Especially so soon! You don't think anything has happened, do you? Surely we would have sensed something…"

Saphira cut off his worried rant. "I would imagine her duties as ambassador require as much time here in Du Weldenvarden as they do with the Varden. Especially now that the elves are preparing for war."

Eragon smiled up at her, relief on his face. "That makes a great deal of sense. I had simply not thought of it from that angle before."

"Well, that is why you need me, dear rider."

Humor flashed in Eragon's eyes. "Saphira, you complete me," he said while drawing an imaginary circle in the air with his fingertips.

A sudden blast of hot air hit Eragon in the back, tipping him over as Saphira snorted with mock anger. "We'll see how complete you are when I'm done with you!"

They both continued towards the training grounds in comfortable silence, and Eragon's thoughts drifted back to Arya. The rush he felt when discovering her approaching arrival and the frantic speeding of his heartbeat when picturing her face threatened to overcome him. Arya thought his affections to be nothing more than boyish fantasies, but Eragon knew differently.

What he felt for Arya was the realest thing he had ever experienced. But during his meditations under Oromis-ebrithyl, Eragon had doggedly set up his resolve to not pursue Arya anymore. Well, perhaps after all this fighting ceases… Eragon pushed it from his mind. He was as stubborn as they come, and he intended to use this stubbornness for good this once. He would not follow Arya around like a love-sick child, of that he was certain. But he had also decided that attempting to avoid her, like he had done in Surda, would not be acceptable. It would be considered rude and hostile by Elvin politics' standards, but political reasons were not his only ones.

While he was avoiding Arya, it had eaten him up from the inside. He felt hollow in his core, as if a crucial part of him was missing. Over the past year, Eragon had begun to rely on Arya. Her advice and friendship were now crucial to his central make-up. He could not risk isolating himself from her by thoughtlessly pursuing romance. It would be like tearing a part of his soul away.

So it was with this resolve that Eragon drew towards the crowd forming at the edge of a pathway leading from outside the city. His sensitive ears picked up the soft footfalls of an Elvin steed, and he sensed a presence that was now as familiar to him as his very own. He kept back away from the line of eager elves in favor of leaning slightly against a tall pine a small distance away from the gathering. As calls of "Hail, Princess!" and "Welcome home!" echoed mutely in the forest, the wind shifted and carried the exotic scent of crushed pine needles to Eragon's heightened nose. The scent intoxicated him, and he was instantly glad for the support of the tree he leaned against. Arya.

The group of elves parted, making way for Arya and her steed to come through. Amazed, Eragon stared at her unthinkable beauty. His lips parted slightly, and he felt as if all the air had been forced from his lungs. He clamped his jaw shut with a wry thought of his pledge to control himself. With the lithe grace only elves possessed, Arya slipped out of the saddle and sprang lightly to the ground.

She smiled politely at the greetings of the gathered elves and responded in kind. Eragon knew her face well enough to see that she was growing weary of the pleasantries, but he also discerned relief dancing behind her eyes. Perhaps he was not the only one glad to be back in Ellesmera.

After many of the elves had drifted away, Eragon slowly moved forward to greet Arya. The Elvin princess turned suddenly from the light-haired elf she had been conversing with and looked directly at Eragon. His breath caught at her sudden stare. Practically as one, the rest of the elves looked up at Eragon, noticing him for the first time. He tore himself away from Arya's stare to touch two fingers to his lips in greeting to the elves. Then, with a determined gleam in his eye, he turned back to Arya and met her stare. There was concern in her eyes, but he also thought he saw something else as she studied him. Probably wondering if my sanity has returned. He pushed the thought from his mind and smiled hugely at her. "Atra esterni ono thelduin."

"Atra du evarinya ono varda."

"Un atra mor'ranr lifa unin hjarta onr," he completed the traditional greeting.

The edges of her lips curved upward in a slight smile. It was faint but definitely there. "It is truly good to see you, Eragon."

Eragon smiled even bigger as he noticed the warmth in her voice that had not been there with the other elves. Also, it didn't hurt that she was speaking in the Ancient Language.

"Arya Svit-kona," he replied, "the pleasure is all mine."

Saphira managed to tear herself away from the group of elves praising her beauty and wondrous strength to come and greet Arya. The two proceeded to have a conversation oblivious to Eragon as he contemplated his and Arya's brief exchange. He had not faired too badly. Pleased with himself, he mused over the warmth that had blossomed inside him upon speaking with her. He was right on pursuing their friendship. Just these few brief moments with her had erased all his tension, and he felt refreshed and renewed.

Arya turned her head gracefully so that she was facing both Eragon and Saphira. "If you both will excuse me," she said softly. "I apologize for my abrupt departure, but I must report to the Queen."

Eragon searched her eyes until he concluded that she really was sorry to go and not simply avoiding him. His confidence restored, he threw her another smile and said, "Perhaps another time then."

Arya nodded slightly and said almost to herself, "You have changed much since I last saw you in Surda." And with that she turned and walked towards her mother's throne room.

Excitement overwhelming him, Eragon turned and beamed at Saphira. Climbing quickly to his place on her back, he energetically told her, "Let us be off quickly! We have already missed my sparring with Vanir, and we would do well not to keep Master Oromis and Glaedr waiting."

Saphira pushed off the forest floor with a mighty thrust, soaring high into the air. She gracefully side-spinned though the air, dipping and turning as she let Eragon's enthusiasm permeate through their mental link.

...

Author's Note: I hope you liked it. Please, please review! It doesn't have to be a paragraph or anything, just give me a word or two. The next chapter will be up in a few days, faster if I get a lot of reviews. :)