Elemental Dragon slayer: thanks, I totally understand. I mean I wanted to writer more but that is for the next chapter (chapter 3 :P)

PHANTOM415: I am totally excited too, I'm not amazing at writing but I have good ideas so I hope this goes well!

I think that I'll put two chapters on today, one now and one later. This one is about Arya so I hope you like it. It's not an important chapter but it is building an understanding of Eragon's feelings for her so... you don't really have to read it, it's like a trial chapter really. I can't decide on the name for this chapter so the first reviewer gets to decide! I won't give you the options I came up with but I'm going for a song name. BUT it doesn't have to be a song name of course!

Eragon woke that very moment, just in time to watch the sunrise. The morning sun glowed in the distance, a radiance of the harmonious colours blood red, golden yellow and deep orange. In his childhood, these were Eragon's favourite colours, because he watched the sunrise so often and he thought it so beautiful. But ever since his Uncle's death, he hated these colours as red and yellow where the colours of the Empire, and orange a mix of the two.

One of his current favourite colours was Sapphire blue, the colour of his majestic, ferocious and beautiful Dragon's scales (whom by the way was sound asleep; oblivious to his vigorous pondering). His other most favourite colour was emerald green, and rightly so, as they were the of his beloved's eyes. It was an obvious reason, but logical all the same.

Arya. Eragon sighed. He could not stop thinking about her. He loved her with all his heart. She had not stopped haunting his thoughts since he first had a premonition about her in Gil'ead. He smiled, an image of Arya came into his head. A 3Dimensional image. The image had their back towards him. His eyes stroked the silky-smooth, raven-black hair. It always shone in the sun, giving off an ever glowing radiance that shone on the side of her face. Even by the back of her, her hair, you could tell she was beautiful. Again, he sighed. How could there possibly be any goddesses more beautiful than her? He snorted. 'The only reason no-one has seen a goddess is even the most beautiful would appear hideous next to Arya, and they probably fear comparison to her.'

The image of Arya turned around. Even then he couldn't look her in the eye, knowing full well the apparition wasn't the real Arya, for the real Arya was much more beautiful. He concentrated his focus on her ears, her small, dainty ears; her perfect elven ears, sensitive to hearing as all elves, yet hers where far more finely tuned. He loved the way that when she was trying not to blush, the tips of her ears went red, a trait he only notice after he acquired elf-like abilities at the Agaeti Blödhren.

Next, he envisioned her cheek, soft, smooth and pale - the same as the rest of her gorgeous complexion. Eragon started drooling, wondering what she would do if he kissed her cheeks, perfectly formed cheeks equipped with enticingly high cheek bones. This was another elvin trait, which frankly Eragon would worship them for. Again, Eragon pondered. Wondering what she looked like if she actually did blush, a thing that he had never seen before, and his heart raced to think that he could even be the one to make her blush.

His gaze moved to her nose, her tiny, sweet nose, which glowed in the moonlight and was positioned between his two favourite things about her; her eyes and her lips. He loved how she inhaled in impeccable timing, silently and slowly, her breathing never changed in battle, another place where she was calm, focused, and composed; her breath came out in small puffs of air, air that Eragon wished to one day share with her.

He stared at her lips; her luscious, luscious lips. The lips that pursed when she was angry, which was far from uncommon. The lips that pursed, when Oromis-Elda showed her the fairth that Eragon had made for her. The lips, that showed a ghost of a smile, when he complimented her beauty in the gardens of Tialdarí Hall, as he compared her beauty to the flower made for her by her Faolin. It was a blue morning glory, of course the flower was exceedingly beautiful, but he thought she was far more beautiful than it. The lips that she slightly bit, in anxiousness, before she met her mother again for the first time since Arya's capture in Gil'ead. The lips, that quivered when he confessed the true extent of his feelings towards her on the final night of the Agaeti Blödhren.

He smiled again to himself. Her face as a whole was divine, that is the only way to describe it.

Her body was perfection, her sleek slender body; there was nothing about her that wasn't perfect. Her flexibility, her gracefulness, her scent of sweet, crushed pinecones; the way that she dressed, and her talent with magic. Her voice, it was soft, sweet (like honey) and angelic. But the way she sang like no other made his heart flutter. It was a common elvin trait, to have a good singing voice, it was considered natural, but no elf could compare to Arya's singing, let alone her beauty (as said before, not even a goddess could). Her singing outshone all the rest, as if mocking jays pick out her song, her tune. He loved the way she could go from mid-tone to a falsetto with great ease and gracefulness.

He loved the way she could use a sword, at the moment she could beat him with great ease if she wanted to, but always chose to keep going, give him a false sense of security, as if he was winning, and when she got bored of playing with him. She would defeat him almost instantaneously.

He loved the way she walked. Sometimes, when she was happy, he could see a slight skip; a spring in her step. The rest of the time, she glided along the ground with complete elegance, another thing that made her absolutely, stunningly, beautiful.

It amused him, that ever since the Agaeti Blödhren (when the Dragons changed him), he could begin to read her basic emotions, even though she could always hide them, and never let them show.

He forgot to think of one of his most favourite thinks about her, her eyes; her slanted green eyes, which complimented her vast beauty. They shone when she was truly elated. Other than that, her emotions were truly unreadable, yet that was a thing that he could live with, and had come to love.

Eragon could not think about what he loved about her the most, but a definite highlight was her laugh. It was, of course, a rare sound, yet it made his heart race, his body tingle, and never failed to send a shiver down his spine. But what he loved most about her laugh, is that it always made him happy. He would humiliate himself a million times just to hear her laugh even once.

Another large smile came across his face, as he knew he would always love her, and was happy if she was happy, because he loved her that much, that if she needed to be with someone else to make her happy, he would let her go. He knew that deep down, he would never love another, but it surprised him that he didn't care.

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