-It had the touch of darkness upon it, an omniscient shadow longing for its master's return.-

Four – Secret and Safe

After spending some time with Saphira, Eragon decided to head back to the party field. It wouldn't do to arouse suspicion by sneaking away, even if most of the Hobbits wouldn't dare accost an 'Elf'. They seemed to be revered in Middle-Earth as much as they were in Alagaësia, perhaps more.

The night had grown rather still and quiet in his absence. The fields were deserted, which surprised him. He could tell from some distance that the party had disbanded and, aside from meeting one or two Hobbits on the road, it appeared he had missed the finale. Now the only sounds to be heard were the chirping of crickets and his own breathing, relatively low and steady. He wasn't sure what had happened to Gandalf, but maybe he had returned to Bag End. It would be best to check there.

From the position of the moon, Eragon judged that he had been away for at least two hours, much to his self chagrin. He hadn't meant to lose track of time, but spending time with Saphira tended to have that effect when there wasn't a life-threatening scenario afoot. Maybe he needed to be more careful, just in case. Deep in his bones, Eragon felt an unnatural cold descend upon him as he entered the gate to Bilbo's home in the hill.

He didn't know why, but there were misgivings etched throughout his mind, and he loosened Brisingr just a touch, keeping a hand rested near the hilt. With a silent breath, he pushed the door open, preparing for the worst.

He breathed a sigh of relief when Frodo looked over from near the fireplace, looking no worse for wear. He appeared troubled, however, and that was rather alarming. The younger Hobbit normally seemed rather carefree.

"What's happened?" Eragon asked quietly. "I can feel something amiss."

"I don't know," Frodo replied with honesty, albeit a little hesitantly. Gandalf told him not to speak of the ring, so he wouldn't. Not even to Eragon. "Gandalf had to leave on an errand, and Bilbo is gone. He... left a half hour ago, to go to Rivendell."

That caused the gears in Eragon's mind to start turning. Something didn't add up. He just couldn't put his finger on what it was.

"Why? I thought he planned to leave in the morning. Did something happen?"

Frodo shifted uncomfortably, ringing his hands together. Eragon knew from his posture that he was holding back. Under normal circumstances it wouldn't help that he obviously intimidating the young Hobbit, was these were clearly not normal circumstances.

"He said he had questions which need answering," Frodo finally said, not willing to elaborate.

"He knows about the Ring," Saphira said.

Eragon nodded. He had guessed that himself. "Frodo, listen to me very carefully. This is a matter of life and death. Did Gandalf say anything about a ring? Did he find one, per chance?"

Frodo mustered as much of his courage as he could. He was a brave Hobbit, but he found Eragon to be rather frightening, despite his kindly quirks. He certainly didn't want to cross the Elf. At least Gandalf had left him some help.

"Here, he wrote this for you," Frodo said, holding out an envelope, marked and sealed.

Eragon took it, frowning. Couldn't the wizard have told him this in person, before running off? Deftly, he ripped it open and produced a letter, written in neat shorthand. He began to read.

'Master Eragon,

'I am afraid we must part here for the time being. An urgent matter has come to my attention, and I believe I may have a lead as to you-know-what. Do not panic, for this isn't a sure thing, but it certainly merits my suspicion. As previously said, I am riding for Minas Tirith, but should return within a month as I am riding with great haste.'

"A month?!" Eragon exclaimed mentally. "Is this a joke?"

"Apparently not," Saphira grumbled. "Read on."

'I want you to take no action on your own, as it is very possible what I have discovered is not even It, but a mere trinket by itself. I have entrusted it to Frodo, who will keep it safe without ever using it. Do not attempt to steal or even borrow it, for its power is terrible to behold, if indeed it is it.'

That last sentence almost sent Eragon's head spinning. Too many 'it's.

'Please ensure that you remain in the Shire until I return... if you still wish to help, that is. I will not attempt to hold you against your will, but I will ask that, if you choose to remain, you ensure our mutual friend stays hidden all the while. It would be unfathomably dangerous for her to be seen or even heard by any third party. Speaking of parties, Bilbo has left early, and Frodo will now inherit Bag End unless he chooses to return. Frodo has graciously decided to allow you residence there until I return, at which time we will discuss our next course of action.

'I trust you, Eragon. The Nine will not track you, with their attention currently drawn to other, lesser souls. If my reading holds fruit, I will attempt to find this same creature first, but I cannot guarantee any success. Whatever may occur, do not grow concerned. If I am not back in exactly thirty days, I ask that you take Frodo to Rivendell with the ring he has been given, merely as a precaution. No matter where our paths lead from this point on, I will wish you good luck.

'P.S. – our little secret should remain such until I return.

'P.P.S – Fire cleanses all.

'Gandalf'

Well, that was utterly compelling, Eragon thought to himself as he finished reading. He took Gandalf's advice and placed the letter in the fire – that, at least, he had understood. Gandalf had been awfully vague, so it stood to reason he was afraid that the missive may fall into the wrong hands, not that it really mattered. It mentioned Frodo, and that was enough of a warning to any who happened upon it.

Could he really wait up to thirty days without action? Could he sit there, pretend nothing was happening, and hope for word from the wizard? What happened if he was attacked in that timeframe, and lives were lost as a consequence? It wasn't a sure thing, but his heart would be burdened by turmoil in such an event. Then again, Gandalf was reasonably confident that wouldn't happen, for his own reasons. Just what was this creature he would search for, in a race against the agents of Sauron? Eragon wasn't even sure he wanted to know, but it could be important in the long run.

Obviously he couldn't respond to the note, but he might be able to scry the wizard later. But that could wait until Frodo wasn't around to see. Gandalf clearly wanted him to hide his true nature, hence his aversion to the thought of Saphira making an appearance. That would displease her, for sure, but both of them knew it would be necessary. It was a fact they would have to meld to with time, starting days ago.

What urgent matter had come to Gandalf's attention? Had he truly left to research the Ring, and ensure what they had found was genuine? If so, it was a huge risk, but Eragon reluctantly realised it might be necessary. If Gandalf was one of the leading experts on Middle-Earth as a whole, and even he couldn't discern whether the ring was genuine, further analysis might be required. Even so, Eragon longed to carry out his own inspection.

"Frodo, where is the ring?" he asked quietly, even as he reached for the Hobbit's mind.

To his surprise, Frodo had been expecting the question. "Hidden in an envelope. Gandalf said there was no point in lying about anything; he was quite certain you can touch the minds of others."

Eragon hesitated, not expecting that. "He was right. But, as is your due, I'll give you my word not to connect with yours without your permission, unless in a situation of life and death."

True, he had slipped from that self-inflicted rule only now, but it was still a courtesy he was determined to re-enact with the people he might meet, unless they were enemies in some form or another. But peaceful creatures like the Hobbits deserved their privacy, and the mind was the precipice of solitary thought.

"I appreciate that," Frodo said, nodding. He wringed his hands together, feeling more than slight nerves despite his usually persistent resilience. "So, what will you do, Eragon?"

Eragon thought hard about the situation. He wasn't about to lift the Ring and run with it, for Gandalf's warnings played strongly in his mind. There was no telling what type of effect it might have upon him, and he wouldn't risk any harm befalling Saphira, more to the point. It was probably best to heed the old man's advice, but to keep a wary eye out for trouble and run on first warning. Yes, that seemed reasonable.

"If worse comes to worst, we can bring the Ring to Rivendell as he instructed," Saphira said, throwing her opinion into the bubbling cauldron that was his brain. "But the time to act may be not until later, little one. Gandalf is a man you're willing to trust and that is something I trust myself. We need his help, and Tenga made it clear he is someone we can rely upon when necessary."

"You're probably right," he said, knowing that she was. "As long as the Ring remains hidden, provided it's the right one anyway, we should wait for Gandalf's return. But I want to keep both eyes open at all times. He told his Elven contacts of you without our permission, which means he's rather unpredictable, if not dangerous."

"I thought you trusted him."

"I do, but not with my life, and certainly not with yours. I only met him today."

Eragon quickly relayed his thoughts to Frodo, who was quick to offer him the shelter Gandalf had promised. He didn't ask what had Eragon had been doing in his rather dazed state as it would seem rude, but it seemed the Elf did that quite often. Perhaps it was Elven nature to explore self-thought when making an important decision. That made sense.

"Wonderful, I'll be glad to host you!" Frodo said genuinely. "I'm not as used to having guests as my uncle, but I'll see to it you're never hungry or thirsty!"

Eragon was alarmed. "Thank you," he said quickly, "but I don't want to be any trouble-"

"Oh, of course not! It's no trouble at all! Come, I'll put dinner on for us both. What would you rather have, bacon, venison..."

Eragon groaned as he continued to list every food imaginable. He enjoyed the hospitality, but this felt like such a strain on his host.

"It's a bloody nightmare," he said, shaking his head as Frodo listed no fewer than fifteen varieties of mushroom he could pick from nearby.

In his own way, the Hobbit was trying to distract himself from the worries Gandalf had emanated before leaving. And Bilbo departing without so much as a 'goodbye' stung a little. But Gandalf had sworn Frodo to keeping the ring secret from everyone, with Eragon being the exception. He had also told him to trust the Elf, with his life if necessary. And any friend of Gandalf...

With an almost casual stroll, the days trotted by for Eragon. He found it surprisingly pleasant to spend his time doing nothing, being so accustomed to either fighting or otherwise risking his life for the sake of a good meal. In truth, he often woke up sweating in the middle of the night, panicking that he was about to be attacked. After looking around in confusion for a few seconds, he tended to either drift back into a disturbed slumber, or go and spend the wee hours of the morning with Saphira.

His dreams were horrifying. Most of them involved Galbatorix torturing him on some level, but the truly frightening ones included Arya. She would stand there, her face framed by strands of raven-tinged hair, and cry in desperation for his return. Those disturbed Eragon to such an extent he was forced to drive himself to the point of physical exhaustion the following day with exercise, just to clear his mind. This was an effect of prolonged war, he knew, and it wasn't likely to fade any time soon.

So exercise he did. It was important to stay in shape, even as a Rider. He did a lot of push ups now, managing several hundred in a row before they truly began to test him. He could withstand much more physical exertion than almost anyone, after all. But once they began to have a real effect, he did put on a little more muscle than usual. The results pleased him, and he continued at a more rigorous pace, in order to dispel all of his nightmares more than anything else.

The four Hobbits, who he came to know quite well as close friends themselves, noticed this routine and thought it rather strange. Hobbits weren't renowned for great physical strength or athletic ability. Eragon waved away the curiosity by mentioning it was typical for Elven folk, and that solved the matter instantly. In the afternoons, he tended to either explore with Merry and Pippin or help Sam with his gardening work, which was of surprising interest. The slightly plump Hobbit was also a great cook, and taught him a thing or two about perfecting the art, not that he would manage it any time soon.

"Well, at least I didn't burn it black this time," Eragon said, grimacing at the slightly charred bacon in his frying pan.

"Well done, Mister Eragon. It only took you seven tries," Sam replied, not entirely sarcastically.

Whilst the four did appear rather timid at first, they warmed up to him exponentially as the days slipped into the weeks mark, a happy reprieve. Eragon snorted to himself as he wondered how long it would take for them to trust Saphira.

As per the prior agreement with himself, he didn't read any of their minds, and mostly refrained from using magic. When his attempt to scry Gandalf resulted in nothing but blackness, he reasoned the wizard was somehow shielding himself, and instead turned to Alagaësia. The results were the same, not surprising him, so he took to storing much of his energy inside Aren from then on daily. It would be handy to have a reserve of energy come a battle scenario. He would have to forget Alagaësia, and working hard might just give him the required grit.

Through all of this leisure, Eragon kept a close watch on the borders of Hobbiton. He only flew with Saphira when it grew pitch black, but she spent much of her time above the clouds during the daytime, and reported no unusual activity several times during this period, their agreed schedule. It was important to be cautious, else something might sneak up behind you and cut your throat in the dead of night. At the very least, there had been no danger of any violence since he had arrived in The Shire.

The Hobbits seemed to loathe quarrelling, and whilst many avoided him as an outsider, a good few did take to conversing with him more comfortably, especially after seeing him mix well at Bilbo's party. Merry and Pippin practically took to him as family, and soon traded jokes and good-natured barbs, although they were careful not to be too offensive. Most of the time. Eragon was also careful to avoid the Old Forest as much as physically possible, a move which the Hobbits regarded as wise.

"Something strange lurks in those woods, I'd wager," Sam had said. "Might be a peculiar force, but it ain't natural, Mister Eragon."

Eragon therefore spent much of his time in the same area when not occasionally exploring, a decision which benefited the debt he felt was owed to Frodo for taking him in. He, much to the Hobbit's protests, helped to clean and maintain the house whenever and wherever possible. Frodo was surprised at his fortitude with even the most menial tasks, but Eragon insisted. Keeping his hands busy was a sure-fire way to disregard troubles past, and before long he forgot large parts of Alagaësia. Perhaps that was insulting, but the truth was that he was an adaptable person, and Hobbiton was such a wonderful place he couldn't help feeling moulded by the transaction. Both of those facts combined to ensure he began to feel at home, temporary though the respite was likely to be.

The only problem was Saphira. The partner of his heart and mind did not take to being separated almost constantly, but accepted the fact as necessary. She was a little cranky, but that was to be expected. Besides which, Eragon reckoned she was enjoying The Shire every bit as much as he was. His instructions meant she tended to hunt further afield so as to avoid suspicion, but the wide, open spaces and clear skies seemed to suit the sapphire dragon down to the ground, a somewhat ironic phrase as she flew almost every moment when awake. When Eragon was able to find time to sneak away unnoticed, it was time invariably spent with Saphira.

"I could get used to this," Eragon said, lying across Saphira's back in the air three weeks later. Above him, the stars were twinkling brightly, whilst below the clouds formed a pearly blanket that masked her appearance nicely.

"If only we could."

"If only."

They sat in silence for a few moments, until Saphira stiffened beneath him. Eragon immediately straightened himself and began to see through her eyes, which had caught the silhouette of a rider several miles out, approaching from the southeast. It was hard to tell from such a distance, but Eragon was half sure the man was garbed all in grey and carried a large staff.

"Take us down there," Eragon instructed.

Saphira growled in confirmation and swooped through the clouds with elegance. Eragon noticed the rider had stopped by this point, and was watching with what he assumed to be interest. Saphira almost went to roar in an attempt to show off, until Eragon chided her for the thought. The Hobbits would be quaking in their boots for weeks to come at the unexpected sound, especially if it roused the entire Shire from a deep sleep. Instead, she contented herself with spreading her wings in a show of size, before floating gently to the ground beside him.

It was clearly the wizard.

"What have you found?" Eragon asked, immediately stepping off of Saphira.

"Ah, I see you like to skip the pleasantries," Gandalf said with an amused frown. "But, I'll hasten you along still. There is one way to tell if we have the Ring or not, and it must be put to the test immediately. Saphira, forgive me for not pausing to talk, but we haven't a moment to spare."

"His horse isn't afraid of me," Saphira remarked, staring into the white animal's unflinching eyes.

Eragon relayed her words.

"Shadowfax fears little," Gandalf said, patting the stallion's head gently. "He's the Lord of all Horses, and with good reason too, I may add."

From there, the small-talk was ended. Gandalf gave Eragon a helping hand onto the back of Shadowfax and together the two headed for Bag End. Saphira, meanwhile, took that opportunity to melt into the sky once again, leaving the night much quieter than it had been before.

Gandalf seemed awfully perturbed, Eragon noted. He was unkempt by normal standards, appeared to be in a great hurry and was physically on-edge. His eyes continued to dart from side to side, and he even forgot to lift his hat after dropping it outside Frodo's door. Eragon bent to pick it up, curious as to this change. Without knocking, the wizard opened the locked door and strode inside, causing Eragon to follow him.

"Hidden inside a box on the mantelpiece," Eragon said lowly, without being asked.

Gandalf didn't respond, but opened the box in question and quickly found the envelope after some bustling about.

"What's happening?"

Eragon turned at Frodo's voice, finding the young Hobbit at the door, which he promptly shut. He was happy to see Gandalf, but that elation vanished after catching the old man's worried expression.

"Come here, Frodo," Gandalf said quietly. "I trust this has been kept both safe and secret in my absence?"

Frodo nodded. "No one knows, save the three of us... what are you doing?"

Eragon blinked in surprise as Gandalf dropped the envelope into the fire. He watched it for a few moments, before grabbing a pair of tongs nearby. The smouldered paper was still covering the ring, so he moved that and grabbed the golden band carefully. Eragon stared at it in wonder. It was a simple piece of jewellery, with no distinctive gems or markings. It looked plainer than anything, yet... so pristine.

"Hold out your hand, Frodo," Gandalf said. "Don't worry – it's quite cool."

Frodo opened his palm with hesitation, and Gandalf deposited the ring in the middle. He clearly wasn't keen on touching the band himself.

"This feels... strange," Eragon murmured. "I can sense a great power inside this ring, Gandalf. Why is that?"

Gandalf shook his head in silence.

"Bilbo used it," Frodo whispered, "at his birthday. Gandalf told me not to say, but he put it on his finger and vanished."

"Vanished?" Eragon repeated, incredulity seeping in. "What, into thin air?"

Frodo nodded.

"You really felt I would take the ring and flee?" Eragon sighed, casting the wizard a sideward glance. "I wouldn't have done so, I swear it. Telling me it had this power would only have made me more cautious... a good thing, it would seem..."

"What's happening?" Frodo asked, shocked as fiery scratches began to appear all along the interior and exterior of the ring. Eragon couldn't tell what the cipher said, but Gandalf could, for he let loose a heavy sigh and heaved his breast in resignation.

"Few can read this," he said. "The language is that of Mordor, which I won't utter here."

"Mordor!" Frodo exclaimed.

"This is it," Eragon said, unable to tear his eyes away. "This is..."

"In the Common Tongue it says: 'One Ring to rule them all, One Ring to find them, One Ring to bring them all, and in the darkness bind them'."

"This is Sauron's ring," Eragon muttered, now staring at his toes. He felt Frodo's eyes shift to him and widen.

"But Sauron was destroyed!"

"No, Frodo," Gandalf said sadly, shaking his head, "Sauron is still alive. His powers are bound to the Ring, and he cannot be destroyed so long as it remains. He resides in Barad-dûr, where his army of Orcs has multiplied."

"And he's searching for the Ring," Eragon finished, interrupting. "Mister Baggins, I think that perhaps I owe you an apology. What Gandalf chose not to tell you is that I came to The Shire searching for the Ring, after receiving a tip that it might be here. I had hoped to be wrong, but couldn't take that chance. Who gave me the tip and how I came to be here I will reveal with time, as it's rather a long tale with more than a few confusing aspects."

"I see," Frodo said, deep in thought. Did that mean the Elves were looking for the Ring as a whole, or was this task secret, for whatever purpose? "And Bilbo found it... in Gollum's cave. All those years ago... okay, if Sauron is searching for the Ring, we have to get rid of it. No one else knows it's here, do they?"

Gandalf gave off a small sigh, hardly noticeable. He really seemed restless.

"Gandalf?"

"There was one other who knew that Bilbo had the Ring. After Minas Tirith I searched everywhere for the creature Gollum, but the enemy found him first. The means of Sauron can be... persuasive. I don't know how long they tortured him, but the information I found indicates their efforts caused him to speak but two words. 'Shire'... and 'Baggins'."

"But... but that would lead them here!" Frodo exclaimed, visibly shocked. "Gandalf, take the Ring!" Frodo proffered it towards him.

"No," Gandalf said firmly, shaking his head.

"You must take it!"

"You cannot offer me this Ring, Frodo!"

"I'm giving it to you!"

"Don't tempt me, Frodo!" Gandalf said, looking forlorn. "You must understand that I would use the Ring from a desire to do good... but in me it would wield a power too terrible to even imagine. I cannot take it."

"Nor can I," Eragon said, as Frodo turned to him in desperation. "I'll have it destroyed by whatever means, but it is yours, and yours alone. My mind is... different. I don't know what effect it might have." On myself or Saphira. Eragon paused, his gaze captivated by the ominous jewel. "Even if... I might feel tempted on occasion."

Without so much as meaning to, Eragon inadvertently stretched out his senses, and his consciousness brushed against something solid... something cold and dark. The Ring let out a low hiss which reverberated around Bag End, extinguishing the candles and lanterns, and Gandalf's eyes snapped towards it. At the same time Eragon felt something push into his mind, something wondrous, and would have let his brain absorb the feeling, but only until Saphira shoved it away with all her might. Outside, in the night air, her roar could be heard for miles around.

When he heard the vicious scream of rage, Frodo stiffened, rooted to the spot by what he only assumed was a dark beast of some sort. He turned to Gandalf for clarity, but the wizard had frozen, staring only at Eragon, who returned the expression with a mixture of stoicism and regret.

"What's going on? What was that?!"

"Gandalf," Eragon said, his voice worryingly low, "I think..."

"I think you're right. Come, Frodo, it's time to leave. The Ring cannot stay in The Shire. Will you accept this task?"

Frodo blinked, resigned to his fate. He could refuse, of course. But if what Gandalf had said was true – and he had no reason to doubt it – then this would be of utmost importance. Solemnly, he nodded.

"What must I do?"

Within the next ten minutes, Gandalf and Eragon practically flew around the house, gathering an assortment of provisions and clothes, whilst listening for the sound of any ruckus outside. Voices could be heard, some of them panicked, but no one was taking drastic action just yet. Eragon could only hope they weren't the sort to light torches and grab pitchforks in these situations, although that might be a good thing for the future to come.

For his part, Eragon did know the game was finally up. He couldn't fault Saphira for her intervention, but it was damned unfortunate. It did teach him something, however: the Ring could not be trifled with. It had ensorcelled him somehow, and that was a process he longed never to repeat again. Now he would carry out his mission, taking the Ring and its bearer to Rivendell. The Ring itself was pure evil. The stories held true, but the intent was there to be felt. It had the touch of darkness upon it, an omniscient shadow longing for its master's return.

Not if I have anything to say about it, Eragon thought, determined. "Saphira, you need to head to the border of Hobbiton. Stay close to where we planned, if you can avoid being seen. I'll meet you there as soon as possible, and we can fly with Frodo after that."

"I understand, little one. Take care with the Shirefolk."

He would certainly have to.

Suddenly, Eragon was interrupted in strapping Brisingr to his waist by Gandalf's cry of anger.

"Confound it all, Samwise Gamgee! Have you been eavesdropping?" To Eragon's shock, he had the plump gardener pinned against the kitchen table, staring down on him with fury.

"I ain't been dropping no eaves; I was just trimming the grass under the window there!" Sam protested.

"Oh? A little late for trimming the verge, don't you think?"

"I heard raised voices..."

"What did you hear? Speak!" he said with force.

"N-nothing important! Well, that is, a good deal about some Dark Lord and something about the end of the world, but... please, Mister Gandalf, sir, don't turn me into anything... unnatural."

"No?" Gandalf asked, glancing back at Frodo. He smirked in triumph. "I've thought of a better use for you."

Fifteen minutes later the trio had become a quartet, which left Eragon feeling slightly anxious. Saphira could handle the weight, as Hobbits were akin to children in that regard, but the more people that came on this journey the higher their chances of being caught. Eragon now knew that the Ringwraiths would be focused upon The Shire, and his fear was amplified. He didn't know what these opponents were capable of just yet, but they weren't to be underestimated, if Tenga had been right.

And so far, flawless.

Eragon thought about how he would introduce these two to Saphira, and saw a potential set of issues. They might run in fear, or, worse, they may not trust him again. With any luck, Gandalf would put a good word in. It just might be needed before the day was over. The wizard had already suggested they head to Bree, in order to restock on supplies and meet him after he had seen the head of his order. Eragon almost volunteered to go with him, but then rejected the idea almost instantly – the Hobbits would need him on the road. He was actually rather annoyed that Gandalf was leaving again so soon, but this held promise. He had to unite the allied forces of Middle-Earth and it seemed a good place to start.

"All of you, be careful," Gandalf said lowly, turning to the three as they reached a shrouded area in the trees, the worried Shirefolk long behind them. "The enemy has many spies, birds, beasts... Frodo, is it safe?"

Frodo held a hand over the pocket on his chest, to show that the Ring was hidden.

"Never put it on. The agents of the Dark Lord will be drawn to its power and find you. Understand, Frodo, that the Ring is searching for a way to return to its master. It wants to be found, and will tempt you more and more as time goes by. Do not fall into that temptation, for you shan't return.

"Both of you trust Eragon. He will lead you safely to Bree, and then on to Rivendell if it becomes necessary. He... has something to show you, I'm sure. You must not be frightened, for no harm shall befall you. Trust him," he repeated, clasping their shoulders and leaving them confused.

After exchanging a couple of words with Eragon in hushed tones, Gandalf departed. Eragon let loose a breath as he vanished into the distance with Shadowfax, feeling the weight of expectation return. He saw the Hobbits watching him expectantly nearby, and knew that to put this off longer would only cause it to be worse. Best to get it over with.

"Okay," he said, nodding to himself. "I promise you won't be hurt when she arrives." He repeated that phrase in the Ancient Language, drawing a look of wonder from Samwise.

"Come, Saphira. Land."

"Maybe you should pin them down or bind them to a tree."

"Yes, and maybe you should bare your fangs and breathe fire at them," Eragon retorted. He received some wry amusement in return.