This is impossible Firnen, Arya sighed, exasperated at the task before her. Piles of manuscripts and tales of old surrounded her desk. Not all were in the ancient language nor that of the humans, therefore it required her to translate each word and phrase. A painstaking task. Domia abr Wyrda lay open under a pile of elven reports.
Following their abrupt return to Ellesmera, Arya had devoted herself to finding out the identities of the elves who had attacked Selender and Ismira. As yet though, she had not deciphered any possible lead on the elf warriors, and she had already gone as far back as the fall of the riders, over one hundred years ago.
You are a rider, there is nothing you and I cannot accomplish.
Oh yes? And what of bringing loved ones back from the Void?she smirked, thinking to outwit her partner. She was under no illusions as to who was wittier out of the two of them; however that did not stop her trying to out manoeuvre Firnen at any point she could.
Without warning, Firnen dived into her mind and sifted through decades of memories, collecting many from her childhood, and less frequently from the years leading to the war. He showed them to her, one at a time, recalling events of her life before her. She choked back tears as she watched her happiest memories of life before her father's death, and the few joyful moments she had with her mother.
They may have joined the void little one, but they still live in you. Firnen said quietly.
Will I ever have the last word with you? She replied with a sniff.
No, but those memories were not for my benefit or to win an argument, but to remind you of the power of love to bring joy, as well as hurt. His message was clear
He ran off Firnen! He just got up and left. After all those years, he just ran off. All the pain and hurt she had bottled up burst out like a flood. Her dragon was not to be put off though.
We all make mistakes, as well you know. Images of a starry glade from long ago flashed unbidden in her mind.
That was…Different? To some extent, yes. But you were cruel to that young man who had suffered so much already. Despite that, he forgave you willingly. Yet you tell me he was calculated and malicious in his actions to hurt you around the fire the other night?
In her heart she knew Eragon hadn't meant to hurt her, just as she hadn't meant to hurt him numerous times. Realising the truth of his words, she sighed.
It seems he and I hurt each other whenever we get too close, she said sadly.
Arya, you and Eragon should learn to dance together. You cannot dance without touching, else you would step on each other's toes. To dance, you must embrace your partner, move as one person, and let the music carry you where it will.
She gaped for a moment. Firnen was teaching a century old elf how to dance?
When did you learn so much about dancing Firnen? I don't remember having danced since the end of the war? That itself is a great shame, however Saphira shared many things regarding the lead rider's time at Evarinya Mor'ranr. The wise-ebrithil-eldunari have shown the lead dragon and her rider many things some may consider irrelevant. I merely saw the connection between teaching of dance and lessons of life, as I'm confident was intended. Now, enough work for the day, come and lie with me.
Arya smiled.
You should do that more often little one. You are queen of a powerful race in a time of relative peace, and a dragon rider. It's unbecoming for one so beautiful to frown.
Thank you Firnen, was her only thought said as she lay down on his emerald green foreleg. Before long she had slipped into her waking dreams, all thoughts of dark magic and lost loved ones forgotten as she lay in the comfort of the most majestic creature she had ever known.
Arya woke to the warm sunshine filtering through the natural window of her room. The sun had just broken the horizon, and with alarm she called to Firnen in her mind, as he was not in the room with her.
Firnen! How long have I been asleep?
Only for yesterday evening. I carried you to your room once the sun set. The elven Lords did not disturb you when I told them we had been training together and you needed rest. Firnen replied with a grin.
Will I ever not be in your debt? She asked him with a smile, grateful for his efforts.
You can never be in my debt, we are one entity. Never forget that.
Arya nodded. What happened while I was asleep?
Nothing that cannot wait. However I believe you have a visitor, or at least will shortly.
Who? She asked, curious.
Look to the horizon little one.
Her curiosity deepened as she got up and saw her 'visitor'. Two dots, one blue, and one green, approached, darting in and around each other as they drew near.
Firnen? Why didn't you tell me? I'm in no state to see him again. She sent him an image of her dishevelled clothes and face.
Look again little one, your eyes deceive you of their size, for it is neither Saphira or I that approach.And he sent her an image of him laying in the sun.
Wha- oh she exclaimed as the smudges came into focus. An all too familiar small green and white ship, made of leaves and grass, circled another ship of similar size. She remembered the night she had woven the intricate details of the leafy boat, and the spell she had cast to keep it aloft over the lands of Alagaesia. The second boat was tinged a brilliant blue, and seemed to glow with an inner fire. Although she did not recognise it, her heart knew who had sent it. The two ships continued to weave around each other, always approaching but never touching. A number of times Arya would have said they could not have avoided colliding, such was the path they were travelling; however somehow they kept diverging later than she thought possible. Inevitably the boats sailed over Arya's balcony, and she was able to examine the blue boat as it hovered near her.
The design was imperfect, but it was clearly made in the likeness of the boat that had sailed from Alagaesian shores nine years ago. The deck was devoid of all life, save for a sapphire blue dragon and rider, unmistakably in sorrow; their heads downcast, the rider on his knees. Her heart pounding, Arya reached out and gently stroked first the dragon, then the hair of the rider.
At once the miniature figures collapsed upon themselves, along with the boat, leaving a small scrap of paper resting in her palm. Fingers shaking, Arya peeled back the wax seal and started to read the script.
My dearest Arya,
A number of times whilst preparing this, I thought to scry you and have our conversation face to face with only mirrors separating us. However I decided that this method may be more personal than the separation of glass and magic.
I wish to apologise for my actions around the fire all those nights ago.
I neither treated you or your trust with respect.
I jeopardised all that we had worked for because I was a fool.
I reasoned that after nine years there would be too much for us to share with each other before we could regain the relationship we once had.
And although it is true that friendships and love are based upon the sharing of stories, emotions and experiences, we have shared as much as could ever be shared already.
We cannot share more of ourselves or understand each other better; we hold each other's identity and very being in our heart and mind, and that is not something that can change idly like the wind.
So it seems in wanting to be the best friend I could be, I neglected being the man you stood by throughout the years.
And so from the depths of my soul I am sorry Arya. Do with me what you will.
But know this.
I love you.
Atra du evarínya ono varda Arya Svitkona,
Eragon Shadeslayer
Arya smiled at the claw mark next to Eragon's name, Saphira giving her unique stamp of approval to the letter. A single tear slid down her delicate nose and dropped onto the page.
Strangely, the tear turned to a deep blue when connected with the sheet. From that point the colour spread over the page, initially just blue, but then a leafy green, until the paper was dyed equally green and blue. Arya stared at it, as the sheet started to crumple, the blue scrunching together, the green forming a slender cylinder. Before her eyes, a blue rose grew from Eragon's apology, green stem and leaves supporting the blue petals. She could not help but smile, at the beauty of the rose, at the beauty that had manifested from a heartfelt apology, and the beauty that was her dearest friend and fellow rider, Eragon Shadeslayer.
Firnen? She smiled, tears in her eyes
Yes, little one?
I think its time we finally trained as dragon and rider. She said simply, conveying her thoughts and gushing emotions through their irreplaceable link.
A roar of joy and happiness sent the birds of Ellesmera soaring into the sky as Firnen basked in the happiness he and Arya felt, and the weight that had been lifted from her shoulders. The issue of the elves could wait.
As he rode into the large campgrounds on the western edge of the Hadarac desert, Vanir felt a surge of pride at the work the Urgals had undertaken for nine years, end on end. They had worked tirelessly each year to fulfil Eragon fire-sword's vision for a series of games between the races. And each year, scores of spectators and representatives from each nation came for the month long event. As the elven ambassador, Vanir had seen elves, humans, Urgals and dwarves compete to show their strength, agility and speed. Over the years, many results had surprised him, often when dwarves or men rose to challenge and defeat the elves and urgals in strength and speed. Each time he had reflected on his final duel with Eragon, and how much he had to learn still about the determination of the 'lesser' races.
"Vanir-finiarel!" A young voice in the crowd cried out with joy.
Vanir smiled and dismounted as a vivacious young urgal ran up to him.
"Hello nar-Dalia" he replied to the urgal dam as she approached. She was around five and twenty years old, and remarkably attractive for an Urgal. He had met the daughter of Nar-Garzhvog a few years ago, and they had formed a strong friendship, despite the differences of their races. She had taught him much about the Urgal culture, and had hung on every word he had told her of elven life. Their friendship was one of the few reasons he enjoyed the inter-racial games as much as he did. If not for her presence, I would have stopped attending the games long ago; I doubt Arya would have complained. Although he understood the need for such games, he generally found the idea of the races competing to show their 'strength' repulsive. Eragon had shown him long ago that mere strength and speed did not dictate ones purity of heart or kindness.
He smiled as he recalled the crack his bone had made when it broke under Zar'roc's influence. It had symbolised the start of change in Vanir, a breaking of old prejudices. He had been unable to fight properly for weeks, allowing his body to heal naturally, and so had collected every manuscript and scroll on the history of humans. The resilience and determination of humans had been abundantly clear, despite their physical weaknesses. Vanir had grown to respect them, and had even grown curious to learn of the history of the other races. So when the princess of the elves had suggested him as the elven ambassador to the other races, he had jumped at the idea.
Without the Shadeslayers, I would be a very different man. Or I would be dead, and Galbatorix would still be on his dark throne. Vanir laughed silently to himself.
"Do you have any pressing needs to attend to right away?" Dalia asked as they approached his tent in silence, enjoying each other's presence, each lost in their own thoughts. As they had moved through the sea of tents, Elves and Urgals alike had given them strange looks; the two races still weren't entirely comfortable in each other's presence.
If only they understood how incredibly unique they all are, how much we can learn from each other.
"Unfortunately I do" he replied to Dalia's question. It would have been nice to talk to someone about all that has happened. It has been a tiresome time of late."I will need to meet with your father, Grimstborith Hadfala and General Stronghammer to discuss matters most likely benign and dull. None of us enjoy it greatly, but our roles require us to burden some responsibilities"
"Aye, then I expect the rest of the evening to have you to myself. It has been too long since we spoke last." Vanir nodded, and the young urgal turned and bounced away, her long blond hair trailing her figure wrapped in a leather tunic. He was pleased to be able to share the pleasant woman's company after the draining meeting.
"I look forward to it," he smiled to himself, before dropping his bags on the low bed and wandering in the direction of the leadership pavilion. He dearly wanted to share with her the elven secret he had been privy to only hours before. Dathedr had reported that the Queen and her dragon had departed for Evarinya Mor'ranr, to "fulfil their training," that very morning. Training indeed. Vanir was one of the few elves who had seen the fairth of Arya resting next to her sleeping quarters. He did not know the details, but if his suspicions as to the fairth's origin were correct, the trip to Evarinya Mor'ranr was more than pure business.
The queen planned to return by the concluding event of the games, the agility test. In the month until then, Dathedr had been left in charge of any petty issues that would inevitably arise, especially given the elves nervousness at a lack of elven riders.
Maybe the queens trip will help the fools amongst us see some sense. Having riders does not make you strong, and being strong does not make you great. Dragons have never chosen a rider based on strength of body alone. Vanir thought to himself as he glided through the crowds, the leadership tent easily visible. The large dome tent was made of a strong leather, which had been lacquered with a blue varnish. Roran had suggested the design, symbolising each race working together, with the dragons (and riders) overseeing the affairs of the land, protecting them from the 'storms' of life. Vanir paused at the security detail guarding the leadership tent.
"The elf ambassador," the leadership security detail announced, as Vanir entered the leather structure.
Here we go again. It was going to be a long afternoon. The thought of time with Dalia brightened his mood as he greeted his equivalents of the other races.
"Greetings Vanir, it is good to see you once again" Grimsborith Hadfala greeted the elven ambassador with a warm smile and a low bow.
"And you also Hadfala" Vanir responded, before greeting the other ambassadors.
Roran, robed in a stylish cream outfit, his brown hair cut short and left hanging naturally; altogether looking comfortable but regal enough for a visit to the queen. The outfit must have been chose by Katrina. Roran has no mind for clothing or dressing for an occasion he thought with a grin. Despite Vanir's joking, Roran had been an obvious choice for Queen Nasuada's human representative. Following the war, he was a hero to the people. Being cousin to Eragon Kingkiller helped, but his personal victories had made Roran an extremely popular and sought after man in political circles of the Empire. On its reconstruction, Carvahall's population had grown exponentially, as nobles from all over the empire migrated to the once little town, so as to be closer to the hero.
Similarly, Nar-Garzhvog had been nominated for his efforts in the war, as well as being a respected clan chief amongst the Urgals, having fought and won many battles with the Varden against the mad king.
Overall, Vanir respected each of the ambassadors, and they him. The humble and kind elf had displayed many of the characteristics the races had admired in Arya, but had brought an open and jovial atmosphere to various meetings.
"What is news from the west Stronghammer?" Vanir asked, looking at Roran. He had heard of the attack on the general's daughter, and was curious as to how much had been revealed to the other races
"Two things, one of which you will already be aware. A dragon hatched for a human rider; my own daughter of all people. She and Eragon have flown back to the rider's home for her training." Roran smiled tightly, the loss of his daughter still weighing heavily on his heart.
"However the issue you won't have heard of, mostly due to its relative lack of import, is news of a pirate fleet operating off the west coast. Merchant ships have been ambushed randomly but frequently, and no pattern to their attacks has been deciphered as yet. We have had to double the security crews on each vessel sailing between Surda and Teirm, which has not pleased Nasuada or Orrin. Otherwise there is little we can do."
Vanir dismissed the pirates with a nod; it was not uncommon and they would be caught in due time. More interesting was the general not acknowledging the elven attack in front of the other races.
Maybe he does not want to cause undue panic. We can do little until the attackers identities have been revealed.
"Will Eragon be sending more eggs then? By my recollection there are no more available eggs in the land." Hadfala asked Vanir.
"We can assume so, although I know not of when we can expect them." This was only partly true, as Dathedr had told Vanir that Arya was planning on bringing more eggs back on her return. Whether Eragon likes that idea or not, given the current climate, will be interesting.
The rest of the council passed without anything of interest being mentioned, except confirmation of each race's competitors for the games.
"Albreich Horstson will compete for the humans" Roran declared proudly. "He has grown strong while helping rebuild Carvahall, and he has retained his quick feet from the war."
"Ginkorin from Durgrimst Nagra will represent the dwarves. She is well known in the halls of Tronjheim for her feats of bravery hunting Nagra. We have often enjoyed hearing of her hunts, while we dine on their remains," Hadfala said with a grin, the dwarf loosening her belt slightly.
"Loufin, brother of Laufin, will be present for the elves. You may remember Laufin; he was one of Eragon Shadeslayers elven guards, and I assure you, Loufin is just as strong as his older brother." Vanir declared, joining in the game that the leaders played, over-representing their races chances at winning. It was part of the friendship maintained between the representatives that they would try and out-do each other in trivial matters. He looked expectantly at Nar-Garzhvog, waiting to hear the Urgal's participant for the games.
The Kull cleared his throat with a dull roar and said in the typically gruff voice of all Urgals:
"The urgralgra have confirmed that I, Nar-Garzhvog, will lead the campaign against the other races" and he bared his neck with a grin, roaring with triumph at his trump card.
Vanir and the other races paused in shock at the unprecedented event, then began laughing and congratulating Nar-Garzhvog on his decision to compete.
Loufin may have a difficult time winning this year. Vanir mused as he excused himself from the meeting, making his way past the guards and back to his tent. He was not perturbed by the turn of events, the elves indefinitely won one event at the games, that was given, and this year would be no different. Remembering that the participants were not revealed until the opening ceremony, Vanir realised Dalia was in for a shock when her father stepped up to challenge the other races.
It will be an interesting month, if nothing else.
A/N: Thanks again for reading/sticking with this story. Reviews (whether positive or negative) are always appreciated