Hello again! Thanks so much to all the reviewers, I really appreciate the thoughts and constructive criticisms. Since I had such a positive response on the first chapter, I decided to continue on! I know a lot of you are confused about Arya and her dragon, but it will all be explained!

Phantomace13- They weren't actually teleported, but Arya's dragon is unconscious! :)

Argetsverd- No, this isn't like that! It's a complete re-do of the IC. Some events will be similar, but many will be different!

Unique Fantasiser- No, she hasn't been sent back in time! It will all be explained ;) And thanks so much for the advice!

Ordgar- I do plan on writing a more mature version, since I was disappointed in CP's completely innocent and non-"spicy" version. woo ;D

Thanks so much to all the reviewers- phantomace13, Umbra8191, Argetsverd, Unique Fantasiser, Ordgar, Orlok Tsubodai Bahadur, shurtugal88, eragon0123, Sonof posidion1.

I really appreciate it! Without further ado, here is chapter 2! (That rhymed...)

Enigmatic Emerald: Chapter 2

As Eragon lost himself within the depths of her eyes, he noted three things. First, the fury etched upon her angelic face rivaled that of a thunder cloud. Second, she held an elegant and masterfully crafted bow in her hands, in which an arrow was nocked. Third, the arrow was pointed straight at his heart. He stood, ridged, as his heart gave a loud thump as feared coursed through his veins. Slowly, as to not provoke the elf to unload her arrow into his body, he gently placed the mysterious stone by his feet and rolled it away from himself. He carefully raised his hands above his head, showing he was unarmed and would not attack.

With speed bordering on inhuman, she gracefully leapt off of her dragon, releasing a grunt from the force of impact. She darted forward, bow still drawn, and picked up the stone. A slight frown marred her perfect features, and she gazed curiously at the stone. It seemed to be humming in her hands, sending off tiny vibrations as she held it. After watching it for a few seconds, the stone's veins shifted once more by a minuscule amount, and she gasped in surprise.

Eragon watched her quietly, and was surprised when she seemingly disappeared, until he felt a dagger at his neck. Panic burst forth, washing through his body as he felt a trickle of blood come forth from where the blade touched his neck. Standing inches in front of him, holding a dagger to his neck, was the elf. She whispered, "Who are you?"

Fearfully, he replied, "E-Eragon, please don't harm me. I live in Carvahall, and I've been hunting for the past few days in order to feed my family." Surprise crossed her features, and her eyes widened ever so slightly. They were inches apart, and the close proximity to her caused his body to respond, a blush creeping onto his face. Then, in a voice so quiet he barely heard, she muttered, "It seems fate is converging upon us…" In a flash, she withdrew the dagger and walked, with a pronounced limp in her left leg, to her dragon. Eragon rubbed his neck, fingering the cut that had been left behind. He watched, confused, as the elf woman placed a hand on the unconscious dragon, caressing its scales as one would a friend or lover. Her eyes glazed over as she stood there, and Eragon began to creep away from her, planning an escape in his mind.

"Carvahall, you said?"

He cursed under his breath. She seemed to be aware of every move he made. "Yes" he replied, "you know of it?"

She turned to him with a curious look upon her face. As she was staring at him, he felt an odd nudge in his mind. His hand shot up to his head, to make sure he hadn't been hit by something. As he was feeling his head, a small smirk presented itself on the elf's face, and he wondered at her amusement. Had he done something funny? As he replayed every movement and word of his to make sure that he hadn't done something stupid, the woman turned back to her dragon.

Suddenly emboldened, he asked, "Is it dead?" The elf shot him a sharp glance, her eyes tightening slightly in annoyance. "No, he is not dead," She replied, putting a slight emphasis on 'he', "He is only injured, and must be healed quickly to prevent any further complications. However, the severity of his wounds worries me, and I will need assistance in order to save him." Eragon nodded, understanding the importance of healing a wound soon after infliction, having been hurt many times in his life. "I know someone who may be able to help. He seems to know a lot about dragons." At this, she turned to him in surprise, and released a chuckle. "A human well-versed in the knowledge of dragons? I have yet to meet one."

He was insulted, but still deigned give a reply to the beauty in front of him. "His name is Brom."

As Brom's name left his lips, she gasped in surprise and, hurriedly gathering a few supplies, insisted that Eragon bring her to him. He noticed that she placed the odd blue stone inside of a traveling pack, which she threw over her shoulder. Before leaving, she faced her dragon and murmured a few words so quietly, Eragon couldn't make them out. A shimmer surrounded her hand, before slowly fading away. He gawked, too nervous to say anything. She faced him, saying, "I'm ready."

To say he was confused was an understatement, but he complied with the elf's orders, knowing that angering her would not be beneficial to him. The village elders had always warned him to stay away from strange occurrences, especially since he was one of the few still brave enough to traverse the Spine, but they would never have expected something such as this to occur. He thought about the way her hand glowed, and knew it to be magic. He was terrified at the prospect that she, a woman, could destroy him in an instant with a single word. Brom's stories warned against the potency of such magic. The villagers of Carvahall were told to run in the other direction should they confront a magician, because there was no hope in fending them off.

Even though he was afraid, he harbored a small trust in her, considering she hadn't killed him yet and because she knew Brom, to whom he was close.

Despite the fact that he hadn't slept in over a day, the adrenaline rushing through him allowed him to push through the weariness that was starting to settle into his body. He led the elf through the rough game trail that was faintly worn and, in places, non-existent. After hours of traversing the rough land, he began to feel the toll of the previous day. Upon seeing his state, the elf declared he sleep for a few hours. He argued that the health of her dragon was at stake, but after much insistence from the elf, he finally relented, and laid his head down on the soft grass.

The sun rose the next morning with a glorious conflagration of pink and yellow. The air was fresh, sweet, and very cold. Ice edged the streams, and small pools were completely frozen over. The elf handed him a loaf of bread, and asked that he "Eat along the way, so Carvahall will come into our sights sooner." He noticed the elf occasionally looked back, as if to check if there was anyone following them.

"You can relax, the birds sing brightly and the sounds of the forest are plentiful, indicating that nothing dangerous is nearby." The elf's eyes landed upon his own, as if searching for some key that unlocked his soul. He flushed as she smiled and replied, "That is sound advice. However, those that I am wary of can travel as silent as a fox, and wouldn't alert the animals of their presence." Slightly disturbed by the underlying tone of her statement, he let the matter drop.

They kept up at a brisk pace, and the leagues steadily disappeared. In late afternoon, they arrived at the edge of a precipitous ravine. The Anora River rushed by far below, heading to Palancar Valley. They soon encountered the sound of the Igualda Falls blanketing everything with the dull sounds of a thousand splashes. The trail led them onto a moist slate outcropping, which the river sped past, flinging itself into empty air and down mossy cliffs.

At the outcropping, they gazed upon Carvahall, a cluster of brown buildings with smoke rising from their chimneys, defying the wilderness surrounding it. From where they stood, the farms appeared to be no bigger than small patches on clothing, and the people were comparable to fleas in size. They left the outcropping and started down the winding trail. When they reached the bottom, the sun was beginning its slow descent, and night was close to falling. The village was composed of stout log buildings with low roofs—some thatched, others shingled. Each building had a wide porch, where people could gather to talk and conduct business.

As they neared the village, Eragon glanced at the elf, concerned about her beauty being revealed to the people of Carvahall, who would no doubt be as entranced as he was. She looked at him, and, seemingly reading his thoughts, pulled a hood over her features, obscuring them in darkness. She told him, "Would it not be odd to see a village boy escorting a mysterious woman? I suggest you pull your hood up too." Hastily complying with her order, Eragon pulled his hood over his face. They wove their way between the houses to Brom's residence, avoiding contact with the villagers. Eragon lightly rapped on the door, before he removed his hand and waited for Brom to answer.

Eragon could hear heavy footsteps inside the house, accompanied with a creative string of curse words. The door swung open heavily, and Brom glanced at him, asking, "What is it, boy? It's almost nightfall, and you should be—" His sudden pause resulted from his glance at the woman beside Eragon, who was patiently waiting for Brom to finish.

"Vinr Älfakyn, it has been quite a long time."

As the elf said this, Brom's eyes widened, and he quickly ushered them inside of his house. Inside, the house was darker than charcoal, an acrid smell heavy in the air. Eragon wrinkled his nose at this, showing his displeasure of the scent.

"Now, for a light." Eragon heard the old man move around, then a low curse as something crashed to the floor. "Ah, here we go." A white spark flashed; a flame wavered into existence. Brom stood with a candle before a stone fireplace. Stacks of books surrounded a high-backed, deeply carved wooden chair that faced the mantel; the four legs were shaped like eagle claws, and the seat and back were padded with leather embosses with a swirling rose pattern. A cluster of lesser chairs held piles of scrolls. Ink pots and pens were scattered across a writing desk.

Brom quickly removed the scrolls from the chairs, emptying two for Eragon and the elf to sit upon. As they took their seats, the elf removed her hood, letting it gently fall down to her shoulders. Gasping, Brom suddenly stood up, and in a curious gesture, twisted his right hand and placed it over his sternum, and spoke in a language Eragon didn't recognize.

"Atra esterní ono thelduin, Arya Dröttningu."

Eragon was dumbfounded at Brom's speech. He tensed, suddenly aware that Brom was more than he appeared to be. He listened quietly, hoping to pick up more information.

With a slight smirk, the elf, presumably Arya, responded, "Mor'ranr lífa unin hjarta onr, Brom—". It seemed the elf was going to say more, but she quickly cut off her reply after glancing at Eragon, seemingly suspicious of him. Brom didn't miss the glance, but ignored it. "Arya, I presume that you've met Eragon?" she nodded, and he continued on, "I know, from what Garrow told me, that Eragon went on a hunting trip to obtain food for the upcoming winter, but I would have never expected him to come back with an elf from—" A sharp squeak rung through the air, causing all three to jump violently. They jumped up and yanked their hunting knives out of their sheaths. The door to the house was closed. Eragon begun searching for a mouse or rat, but after looking over at Brom and Arya, he froze. Looks of absolute surprise were present on their faces, and Brom managed to say, "You have th—".

"Yes." Arya replied, cutting Brom off mid-sentence. Slowly pulling the traveling pack from her shoulders, she unstrapped it and gently removed the deep sapphire blue stone, which emitted another squeak. Brom let out a strangled sound before forcing himself silent, gawking in utter surprise and elation at the mysterious stone. Arya slowly placed the stone on the ground. The stone, previously unmoving, began to rock rapidly, rolling across the floor at a furious pace. Eragon slowly crept forward, entranced by the beautiful stone's motion. The motions stopped, but he remained tense. After a few tense minutes, the stone started squeaking and rocking faster than ever.

The rocking stopped; the stone became quiet. It quivered, then rolled forward and dropped onto the floor with a loud thump. Eragon looked up at Brom and Arya and, reassured by their confounded expressions, remained where he was. Suddenly, a crack appeared on the stone, then another and another. At the top of the stone, where all the cracks met, a small piece wobbled, as if it were balanced on something, then rose and toppled to the floor. After another series of squeaks, a small dark head poked out of the hole, followed by a weirdly angled body.

Soon the creature was all the way out of the stone. It stayed in place for a moment, then skittered into the candlelight. Eragon recoiled in shock. Standing in front of them, licking off the membrane that encased it, was a dragon. It was no longer than his forearm, yet it was dignified and noble. Its scales were a deep sapphire blue, the same color as the stone.

"It was an egg!" he exclaimed, surprising Brom and Arya and causing the baby dragon to spin towards him. The dragon fanned its wings, which were several times longer than its body and ribbed with thin fingers of bone that extended from the wing's front edge, forming a line of widely spaced talons. The dragon's head was roughly triangular. Two diminutive white fangs curved down out of its upper jaw. They looked extremely sharp, as did its claws, which were white, like polished ivory, and slightly serrated on the inside curve. A line of small spikes ran down the creature's spine from the base of its head to the tip of its tail. A hollow where its neck and shoulders joined created a larger-than-normal gap between the spikes.

Despite its scantiness and its petite size, Eragon thought it was even more beautiful than the green he-dragon he saw earlier. This dragon was gorgeous, and the deep sapphire color was a favorite of his.

Eragon kept very still while Brom, Arya, and the sapphire dragon watched him. The dragon slowly crept toward him, their gazes locked as they both realized the impact the next moment would have on their lives. Tentatively, Eragon reached out with his right hand to caress the baby dragon. His hand contacted with the dragon's snout, and a blast of icy energy surged into his hand and raced up his arm, burning in his veins like liquid fire. He fell back with a wild cry. As Eragon was falling, every part of his body seared with pain. He felt a pair of arms catch him. His body couldn't hope to block the unbearable pain. His eyes inevitably closed as his ears made out a slight humming noise, lulling him into an unconscious state.

Thanks for reading! Remember to review and let me know how it was. Everything regarding Arya, her dragon, and the new I.C. I've created will be explained next chapter!

In case anyone was wondering, I plan on making weekly updates. Unless, of course, I'm stricken with an inspiration to write, and I spit another chapter out within a few days! See y'all next chapter!