Author's note: Thank you so much for your support! Totally did NOT expect it and I'm beyond flattered. It means so much to me! I've had questions about whether there will be anything here between Arya and Eragon and whether other characters from the original books, like Angela, will make an appearance in this story. I've thought about both of those things and I think that I can't rule either of them out! I think I'd definitely like to include more characters from the originals (especially Angela because she's my favorite) but I may shy away from writing too much ExA. I'd like to focus on Eragon and Saphira moving forward and I'm excited to see where the characters go! Thank you all!

Eragon reclined against the cavern wall and smiled at Saphira playing with one of the many granite wyrms in the room. They had bothered her at first but when she realized they didn't shy away from her nipping or her fire, she decided they may be an entertaining distraction.

I haven't had a chance to hunt for a long time and I don't want to lose my ability. She huffed, not glancing up from her "prey."

You would be a fierce hunter no matter how long you rested between outings. He responded admiringly, laughing as the wyrm spiraled around one of her scaly blue legs and wove between the spikes of her long back. And you're getting so big!

Perhaps to a man. Or more than a man, she threw a meaningful image of his changed appearance up in her thoughts, but I want to be fierce for a dragon!

They played for a few more minutes before Saphira, sensing Eragon's admiration, added, Thank you, Little One.

He just smiled, and tried to return his focus to the conversation at the table beside him. Lanr, standing in the corner, was scribbling furiously, trying to keep up with the two elfins at the table. The activities in the room made it hard to pay attention, though.

As does the Spice.

Eragon suppressed a giggle, naming the drink in the native tongue. Loisva. Lilies!

Watch that you don't fall out of your chair, you drunk.

You're just jealous they don't have barrels like the dwarves did.

Saphira snorted disdainfully and returned to her play, ignoring Eragon's stifled laughter.

"It has been twenty years, Mino, we must continue breeding." The stripy green woman lounged on a plush seat, picking strawberries from the feast. Her hair was lustrous and her skin had returned to a more normal glow, seeming healthy other than the scars that she said would never leave her. Her eyes still glowed and Eragon could see that her posture was relaxed but her meaning was firm. "Maga is free and we must begin so we can ensure our children are the strongest possible!"

"Nawne, Maga may never return in full force."

Nawne stared, shocked, at her second-in-command, and Lanr kept his gaze focused on his birch scroll. "Don't say that again." She finally told him quietly, her ears settling against her hair. "Maga is very strong," she held him with a strong look, "and I know that the best."

Mino held her eyes for a few moments before casting them away and running a hand through his fiery hair, tail flicking against his furry leg.

"But we haven't seen any other signs," he said at last, appealing to the evidence at hand, "and we still haven't begun to assess those from the ocean." Eragon understood that it was his turn to speak.

"What would you like to know? I have questions of my own but if I am the guest I want to let you begin. Mino opened his mouth and closed it sharply. The wild colours of the elfin people still made Eragon uncomfortable, particularly the dazzling blue and green people who glowed at night like the moon's reflection on the waves that constantly crashed against the shore.

And keep you up at night. Saphira sniffed, settling in next to him and placing her head close to the others.

It's only been a few days since we arrived. I'll get used to it. Blödgharm isn't resting well either, and the salty air has been matting his fur. We'll acclimate. We just need to find a way to get the conversations moving towards more important issues. I feel restless without any direction after sailing for so long.

Breeding sounds like a very important issue. You must have noticed there's no children here.

I noticed as soon as we docked. Zi'Nawne said it has been nearly twenty years and I wonder if she knows I'm almost twenty years old myself. I can't help feeling that you or I have something to do with this. Everything here seems like it froze in time a long time ago. A bit paradoxical isn't it?

Paradoxes are for your people to figure out. I'm more concerned with the children. She stared at him with one giant blue eye but he didn't follow her strange thought processes. She seemed so focused on…something. Breeding? Why did Saphira care so much?

Eragon decided to continue the conversation later and returned his attention to Ya'Mino.

"I can see on your face, Rider, when you are talking to the Sky. Have we displeased your Great Ones?"

"Don't be sarcastic, Mino," Zi'Nawne plucked a grape from her plate and crunched on it loudly. "Lanr, scratch it from the record. I don't want to remember how rudely Ya'Mino treated Za'Eragon and I'Lorht." She crunched an almond and reached a delicate hand up to Eragon's cheek, caressing him. "You are not guests here, you are home now. You said you can't go back so you will stay. Don't worry about Mino. He just doesn't want to breed!"

Without another word she sat up, recoiling her hand like she hadn't touched him at all, and faced the other members of the group with a stony expression.

"We have to begin. Maga will return and we haven't had any children for twenty years. We have buried the ashes of the dead, the sand has taken them, and the ocean has drowned our grief," Eragon shivered at the similarity to Saphira's advice to him before, "and we must crash like waves before the storm rolls in." She looked meaningfully between Ya'Mino and Eragon before standing up and looking to the mouth of the cavern where the setting sun could be seen dropping below the horizon.

"Tomorrow," she decided, "you will demonstrate your maga. Tonight, the waters are churned and the sands are settling. Soon," those dazzling green eyes locked into Eragon's brown ones and then slid to the red depths of Ya'Mino's, "the waters must swell."

Taking her leave, she walked swiftly out the mouth, touching a glowing hand to the stone, she climbed nimbly aboard the back of a marble beast with wings that was certainly not a dragon, but also not something Eragon had a name for. It had appeared in response to her touch and Eragon wondered what magic the elfins were capable of.

Ocean metaphors, Eragon decided, are complicated.