CHAPTER 2: REUNION
The next few months were a blur as Eragon strove hard to teach the students, discuss construction and legal matters with elven leaders and hone his swordsmanship/spellcasting. Though Saphira was worried he would burn out, she knew he was doing this to block out thoughts of Arya. The day after Nasuada contacted him, he received a letter from Arya herself informing him she would be making the journey:
Greetings, Ebrithil Shadeslayer,
I am writing to inform you that my entourage and I will be visiting Oris-Vel. Though I considered scrying you to convey this, I thought it much clearer and quicker (your spellcasters can be quite pedantic about security) to write. It has taken me many months of discussion with the council- they were disapproving of this proposal- I have succeeded in convincing them that this is necessary. It has been too long since I have been involved in the Riders' affairs, and Firnen has been very eager to leave. I am afraid I have held him for too long in Alagaesia, where dragons fly no more. Moreover, I must meet the students I have sent to your guidance and protection. Of course, I would ask your approval of this also. After all, it is your land. Please reply as soon as you can.
May good fortune rule over you,
Peace live in your heart,
And the stars watch over you.
Arya Drottning
The letter had been painfully formal. Eragon thought of it repeatedly as he hacked away at the sand filled sack in front of him. Sweat dripped down his forehead. He tried to analyse the letter, dissect it, tear it down sentence by sentence to extract any form of hint at her emotions. Anything that sounded like Arya. He could find none. With a rock-splitting force, he slashed down at the sack with Brisingr, focussing all of his despair and pain into that one blow. It exploded into a cloud of sand. The particles rained down on him and covered his body top to toe. Around him, students and elves stared and whispered nervously as they paused their own training. For a few minutes, he stood there with sand stuck to him, breathing heavily.
"Sorry about that. Carry on," he said in a loud voice, and left the training field. The elven masters returned the students' attention to the lessons. With some irritation, Eragon let the sand fall off him magically. He sprinted back to his tree to bathe. When he reached it, Saphira was on the balcony waiting for him. She eyed him accusingly.
You need to control your temper.
I know. Maybe I should go somewhere more private.
The students were quite startled by you.
You weren't even there.
I watched through your eyes and asked Liniel.
Mm.
Which reminds me… what do you think of her?
Who? He asked without really paying attention.
Liniel, the swordsmaster.
Eh? Now this was something they had not breached before. His brows furrowed in confusion. What of her?
Since we are all creatures of vanity, I will mention that she is a beautiful elf. And you have known her well these past twenty years.
Saphira, that was very spontaneous. You know that I consider her a friend and ally. She is a brilliant swordswoman.
Well, there goes my effort.
There is only one woman in my heart, he said quietly.
I understand Eragon. I just wanted to check- if that is the case, I will leave you be.
Eragon had no answer. He walked away, entered the tub and drew the curtains.
As he sank into the hot water, he sighed in contentment. It helped melt away the thoughts in his head and he enjoyed the brief moment. After the bath, he slipped into comfortable clothes and poured himself some faelnirv. The liquid burned his throat everytime, but there was strange comfort in this sensation- as if it would burn away his troubling thoughts. He walked to the balcony and observed the landscape. The city was alight now, as the sky was darkening. It was more alive and excited than before, as the citizens were looking forward to the visit from Queen Arya. Visitors were rare in this land, and they rejoiced every time new Riders came to join their numbers. And now, the Queen of the elves was to set foot in Oris-Vel. The elves were positively delighted. And Eragon… though he was loath to admit, longed to see her again. Oh, he had long ago accepted her absence and Saphira noted he dealt with his emotions better. However, she never ceased to visit his dreams and awake the dull ache in his chest. He really did have to admit that he missed her. Terribly. He drained the rest of the liquor and went to bed.
The next morning light came streaming into the room and woke him up at the same time as the urgent knock on the door.
"Ebrithil!"
Eragon rubbed his eyes and stumbled out of his bed.
"Enter."
Ciseron came in. "Master, a great ship is nearing Oris-Vel. It is about an hour away."
"What?!" Eragon's head snapped up immediately. Then his skills from years of leadership came to play. "Friend or foe?"
"Friend, Ebrithil. It is Arya Drottning and her retinue."
"Ready the markers on the shore, send Vanessa and Nolwing on dragonback to guide them here. Inform all the Masters, students and their dragons, librarians…well, the whole city of their approach. The Masters, students, dragons and I shall meet them at the castle entrance. The rest will stay in their dwellings to greet her later. Otherwise, there will be too many people."
"Understood, Your Majesty," said Ciseron, bowing.
Eragon raised an eyebrow. "Just call me Ebrithil…"
"As you wish, Ebrithil."
"Oh, and Ciseron! Tell the cooks in the kitchen to prepare a feast!" he said, grinning.
The advisor returned the grin and hurried off.
After he left, Eragon immediately contacted Saphira, who had been off hunting.
I already know, she said laughing. I have seen their ship.
What? Why didn't you tell me?
Because you were busy sleeping- besides, Ciseron was coming to tell you.
Point taken.
Eragon shaved, washed his face hurriedly and nearly tripped over a chair as he opened his wardrobe. His mind was a muddled mess as he tried to decide what to wear. Blast it, he thought.
Wear the black tunic the elves wove for you. The one trimmed with gold and silver with a matching cloak.
How can you do this better than me?
I can't understand why you two legged beings fuss about clothes… if you had beautiful scales like mine, you would not need them!
Well, I'm afraid I wasn't born a dragon. Anyway, thanks for that.
My pleasure, she replied in amusement.
He donned the apparel, buckled on his belt, sheathed Brisingr, tugged on his boots and tidied his hair before he shot out of the room to sprint downstairs. When he reached it, the castle was buzzing with excitement. All throughout the many corridors, he could smell the mouth-watering aroma of food. Students were chatting animatedly, dragons flew everywhere and even the Masters were smiling. Elves, humans and dwarves were on the streets, the parks, and gardens. Music was playing in the air- singing, harps, lyres, flutes, drums. The atmosphere was overwhelming.
I feel like they're more excited than I at this visit, Eragon commented dryly to Saphira.
Ha, they probably are. Look more happy, Eragon! You look like a frozen sculpture!
A frozen sculpture?
With ice.
Right…
It took him the whole hour to get everything ready and in order. By that time, Arya was already walking on the grass through Du Belvier Forest and toward the castle. Eragon climbed down the steps of the castle with his students and Masters to the entrance. They reached the gates, which swung open at their approach. His students chattered loudly. Eragon held up a hand to silence them- they did. For the next few minutes, they all stood there waiting. Then… in the distance, Vanessa and Nolwing came forth on their violet and umber dragons. The audience watched with bated breaths. And Eragon's heart hammered in his chest. Behind the two Riders, the hems of a blinding white dress emerged from the shadows of the forest. A slim waist, flowing sleeves, and then a regally beautiful face appeared. Eragon had no eyes for her entourage as he beheld her. It was as if everything/everyone else was stripped away from the world. She was here. She was here. Arya.
Her midnight black hair rippled in the sunlight, waves of black silk. On her brow sat a golden circlet, the teardrop shaped diamond emitting a dazzling light. Her movements were dignified and graceful- there was no doubt of royalty. She was Arya, one of the greatest elf women alive. She was also the spectre of his dreams. A great cheer went up from the crowd behind him. They waved their arms and banged their swords against shields. Like a magnet, Eragon felt drawn to her. He felt his legs moving forward of their own accord, boots brushing the grass. Blödhgarm and Ciseron followed him. It was like a dream… he walking towards her, she to him. And the formality of her letter dissolved in his mind when he saw her radiant expression. He remembered her true name. An image of her hugging his fairth to her chest flashed before him. His hands tingled with the memory of her grasping it. This is it, he thought.
Arya's circlet was like molten gold in the sunlight. Her hair shone like onyx, slanted green eyes like emerald, lips red like the roses of his garden. The ache in his chest was fast disappearing, replaced with love that was on the verge of exploding. And then… he was before her, and she before him. Her lips were smiling politely, but her eyes were sparkling. Eragon reached out for her hand but she did not refuse him. Slowly, he raised it to his face and, without taking his eyes away from her face, pressed his lips to her hand. He kissed it with reverence, as if kissing a goddess. Then he lifted his head to see her expression- it was soft and gentle. It was just as well that not many were close enough to witness the unspoken exchange between the two. Intimate and fateful. It was fate. After twenty years, twenty years, he was holding her hand. After twenty years, he was seeing her face. Eragon wanted so desperately to draw her to him. To hold her, to confirm that this was not a dream. But he couldn't- not here.
Eragon… careful, said Saphira, half amused and half worried.
For what seemed like eternity, Eragon held her gaze. The two, King and Queen of different lands stood with eyes locked in connection, as if spellbound. He could not move, could not speak and could not move his eyes away. Then, a roar sounded from above the trees as an emerald dragon emerged. He tossed his head and breathed blazing fire. It startled Eragon out of his reverie and both he and Arya turned to look at Firnen. From above, Saphira roared in answer and breathed her own fire. Through their link, Eragon felt her elation, longing and passion at seeing her mate again. She soared through the sky to the other dragon, and Firnen circled her excitedly. He nuzzled her face and swung his tail from side to side. Seeing the two reunite made Eragon smile. He felt as if it would last forever- he could not stop it. He brought his attention back to the Queen. Her lips twitched in amusement. Now, aware of all eyes on the two, she spoke first:
"Atra esterni ono thelduin," she said, touching her lips.
Eragon mirrored her, grinning. "Atra du evarinya ono varda."
"Un atra mor'anr lifa unin hjarta onr."
Eragon's smile widened. "Your Majesty, welcome! Welcome… to Oris-Vel!"
The students, dragons, Masters, Elders, and Arya's entourage watched the pair, then began to sing and cheer. Eragon held out a hand to her, grinning.
"It has been too long, my Queen. If it so pleases you, I will guide you around my humble home."
Arya took it, green eyes alight. She bowed her head.
"Of course, Ebrithil."
And so, for the first time after twenty years, Eragon led her hand in hand to the city of Erondel.
