This story is not for profit, with the exception of original characters and storylines; the following content does not belong to me.

The wind brushed along green leaves as moonlight streamed down between branches before dancing across the forest floor. The night was pleasantly warm, the stars shown and laughter rang through the air. It was as if the elf's joy could be tangibly felt in the air.

The elation of the elves could not be contained; the blood-oath celebration was upon them once more! Peace abounded in the land and Du Weldenvarden was more beautiful than in any other age previous. Dragons could be seen in the sky as they and their riders helped to maintain harmony in all the kingdoms.

One rider was missing though. Eragon, true to Angela's prophecy he had not stepped foot in his homeland since he sailed. Stories of him were told around campfires and kitchen tables, those who had met him were counted fortunate and were few and far between as many of his humans friends had long since passed on.

Kaira wondered between the tall trees, navigating her way around her giddy kinfolk, she absorbed the sights and sounds of the celebration. She was a relatively young elf, only one hundred and twenty years of age at the last blood-oath celebration; she had shocked many when Raboon had chosen her to be his rider. Many had thought her to be too young, but Master Eragon believed her youthfulness to be one of the keys to helping rebuild the dragon riders. Though it was hard to listen to a man so man years her junior, Ersgon had proved to be a wise teacher and had helped to replace her father who had died during the war with Galbatorix.

All to soon would she present Saphira's gift, a sculpture made of discarded dragon scales shaped in the pattern of the Menoa Tree's root, and Eragon's poem. She was thrilled to have the honor of presenting their gifts, but was deeply saddened by the absence of her beloved mentors. Kaira had her own suspicions as to why Eragon refused to return (namely revolving around a certain elven queen) nonetheless she would never voice them aloud. The pain in Eragon's eyes whenever her name was mentioned was almost too much to bear.

" My brave one, it is time to present our Masters' gifts," came the voice ofRaboon.

Glancing over Kaira saw her majestic burgundy walked over and dipped his head so that is might be at the same level as his rider's. His scales shown in the moonlight and Kaira was once again humbled at his precious gift of choosing her to be his rider.

"And present it I shall protector of my heart," Kaira replied before walking over to a clearing were the gathered elves waited.

Raboon offered Saphira's gift to the elves first, their clapping took nearly a full five minutes to settle down. Then, it was Kaira's turn. Taking a deep breath she looked up, determined to start reading Eragon's piece, when her eyes met the Queen's.

The clearing faded away as blue eyes and green eyes met. One set held pain and the other, condemnation. Here was the woman who had caused her master so much pain, who put the duty of her people before that of her heart. Here was a woman who forgot what it meant to be an elf.

Kaira ripped her eyes away from those of the Queen and began to read the words of Eragon's anguished soul, a soul that was broken into pieces and that could never be fully put back together as half of it was missing.

Arya listen with rapt attention, her own pain mirrored in the words of the man she loved, yet had left. She had not visited Eragon, believing that if she did not see him the pain in her heart would shrink, but instead, it had grown. Those closest to her knew she was unhappy, her eyes were dull and her spirit subdued. While she ruled the elves well, joy was not an emotion that could be detected upon her features. Smiles rarely graced her face and any light-heartedness she once had was destroyed by the war and the absence of the one person who could understand her completely.

As Kaira stopped speaking the elves began to clap, but the Queen stayed utterly still; lost in memories of days past. If only she could go back and change her actions. While she loved serving her people, her heart felt incomplete, not even her dragon could fill in the missing space. Deep in the recesses of her mind Arya knew that half her soul was missing, that she would forever have a whole in her heart. After all, why would Eragon ever want to see her again?