D/C: I don't own anything from Eragon or Eldest

Given-inside: actually, no… the entire thing at the end was just Eragon and Saphira testing if their spell had worked. The curse was reduced when he used the ancient language. They wanted to see if it would work, so Saphira made Elva look away and concentrate on Vinthael while Eragon harmed himself. Then Eragon threw the dagger at Vinthael and the curse made Elva stop it. Therefore, the spell worked, and she can protect whoever she wants with the curse. Sorry, I suppose it was a bit confusing.

To all: thanks for your reviews! Please continue to critique and say what you like, and please don't judge me by my age…but more by how I write

-Confusion-

"Let us see the Rider!"

"Elva!"

"Will she come out?"

The Varden leaders and King Orrin were tired of the daily mob to see Elva. At first, they had tried to keep it a secret, but at the battle camp, people had already seen, and rumors leaked so fast it seemed that ten minutes back in Surda, everyone knew there was another Rider. As a result, they were forced to use a secret escape route in King Orrin's castle that led to an area in back of the walled city, out of sight, and it was there that Elva and Vinthael trained.

The young and obviously very special and talented pair of Rider and dragon worked hard, everyday, quickly mastering skills. Elva's control of her curse also waxed stronger and stronger. Elva showed a level of maturity and understanding that made Eragon feel embarrassed of his rash actions.

Her magic also outraced her swordsmanship, by far. Saphira always thought it was the dragonmark added to her gedwey ignasia that boosted her magic skills, and she suggested, even the curse, though Eragon denied it. Elva had amazing stamina, magically and physically, and her swordsmanship was still remarkable for her size and age. When it came to offensive spells, Eragon always favored brisingr. But when Arya set Elva to the task of destroying a chunk of wood with magic as her first lesson, a completely different method came out. Elva already knew more about magic than Eragon had when Brom taught him, but the result was still astounding.

"I can't properly tap into the magic, ebrithil Arya." Elva sighed, wiping her forehead and brushing aside her bangs. Her odd mark gleamed, and glowed as Elva tried again. And again.

"I've taught you the ideas, and what magic is. What's left now, is the actual application, and you alone can find that for yourself. Do it again," Arya sternly crossed her arms, and watched as Elva's eyes narrowed in concentration. Elva was coming dangerously close to frustrated shouting, and was nervous that she would lose it, and be rude to Arya. In turn, Arya would make sure to punish her, or would just refuse to teach her. I can't do that. Elva repeated. I will not. Find the magic… find the magic… this is stupid how do I get the magic.

But her control failed, and her frustration poured through the broken dam. She was trying so hard to really become a Rider, and she didn't want to be an outcast anymore. She had to get the magic now so she could do more than listen to Arya talk, or whack wooden swords with Eragon.

And the words burst out of her. "Jierda du brisingr!" She shouted and the wood exploded. Arya jerked to stand rigidly staring at Elva, who was staring at the charred piece of wood, still smoking.

"Where did you hear jierda." Arya demanded.

"I don't know." Elva stammered, her hands playing with her hair.

Then, Arya smiled. It was a real smile, one of pride and admiration. "Good job, Elva. You are strong in magic." Elva's eyes widened and she stood in silence, then grinned.

But with Saphira and Vinthael, the story was different. Saphira found herself not knowing what to do, and no amount of instinctive knowledge seemed to help. Seeing Vinthael grow up and struggle with flying tactics that Saphira found easy to do made her want to be a mother. Passing through villages when Saphira and Eragon were on the run from Galbatorix, Saphira had seen through Eragon's eyes many mothers and children. When she hunted, she saw doe and the younger deer, wild horses and colts. She remembered wanting a motherly figure for herself, to teach her when Eragon asked her for help and Saphira was afraid too. But when telling Vinthael to corkscrew through the air, then loop and dive to snap open his wings a few feet above the ground and shoot straight upwards again, she refused to let herself soften. When Vinthael couldn't do something, she found a conflict. Should she scold him? And make him do it again? Or be gentle and tell him how to do it better the next time with a guiding push in the right direction.

But she didn't want to be Vinthael's mother either. She wanted a mate, and Vinthael was really her last hope. But if she was in Vinthael's position, having a surrogate father turned lover was repulsive. She was not much older than Vinthael. Oh, but what if she was too harsh on Vinthael and he grew up afraid of her, or saw her as a strict teacher who he could never please?

She explained her worries to Eragon.

I don't know what to do. She confessed.

Be his friend. You did not have a mother, and you turned out fine. You're still too young to be a mother either; this is your instinct kicking in because you've thought about it so much. He is just as strong as you were, and he can support himself. Don't crush his spirit too much. Teach him as Glaedr taught you, simply as a kind teacher. As a friend, perhaps in the future it will blossom into something more.

Saphira nodded, and shook her head as if she could clear the constantly worrying thoughts of extinction.

And so the training continued for four months, in which the empire and the Varden seemed to be at a temporary stalemate. After these three months, Rider and dragon were powerful, and strong, with developed skills. Elva's curse was fully under her control, and Vinthael was already showing signs of his first flame.

Vinthael was huge now, roughly the size of Saphira when they first entered the Varden. Saphira herself was even larger, as dragons grew their entire lifetime. His emerald eyes were full of encouragement, but he was a tricky type of personality, and deep in the green pools of ageless time, mischief always flickered, giggling. Vinthael's scales were a deep shade of emerald, and other shades were always sliding over the iridescent surface. Glaedr had described Saphira as naturally suited to the skies, but Vinthael could give Saphira a run for her spikes, powerful sinews and muscles working when he sprang into the sky with Elva on his back.

As for Elva, she stood at five foot three inches, and long black hair was swept into a low ponytail. Her previously dark purple eyes had deepened even more until it was almost black. Even with the reduction of the curse, she had continued her huge growth rate; but now the healers confirmed that this was her full height, and she would stop growing. She preferred a bow, and carried a large one with a huge quiver of arrows on her back, though she kept a sword at her side too. Efficiency in magic and physical battle had left her slender and lean. Her dragonmark and gedwey ignasia seemed to give her a boost in magical power compared to normal human Riders, and sometimes did spells and other things without draining her strength. And, to her immense joy, the people now admired her just as much as they did Eragon.

Along with Eragon, Saphira and Vinthael, they were the faces of the Varden.

One fresh morning, Elva awoke and dressed in her normal garb of black hunting clothes, preparing to go down to the sparring field. Vinthael, too, awoke from a giant cushion that he slept on. King Orrin had had to construct a hole in one of the upper floors for the two dragons and their Riders. Eragon and Saphira were in the other room.

Morning, Elva.

Hey, Vinthael. Are you going down with me to the sparring field?

Can't. Saphira will eat me if I don't go flying with her today. I skipped yesterday because I ate one of those blue mushrooms you have in your room and I felt sick.

Elva's eyes widened and she stared at Vinthael incredulously. Vinthael, you've got to be kidding me. Angela gave me those to study because they're poisonous and deadly to a human.

It's a bit too late. Anyways, Saphira wants to teach me herbs for a dragon now.

Do make sure she teaches you what animals are safe for dragons.

Vinthael snorted. What do you mean, we're bigger than anything, and if its too strong we can just fry it.

Number one, you haven't breathed fire yet. Number two, make sure she does, in case, you know, you try to bite a porcupine or something.

I'm not stupid.

By eating those mushrooms, then it shows someone definitely dropped that egg of yours.

At this, Vinthael butted her with his head, sending her flying. Careful Elva, I just might eat you.

A knock sounded on their door, and Elva opened it to find Eragon.

"Good morning, ebrithil." She nodded, respectfully. Elva was no longer the cold, cynical child she had been when she had first met Eragon. Vinthael had softened her heart, and the Varden had hardened her skills.

Hello, ebrithil Eragon. Vinthael repeated.

But Eragon shook his head at the honorary term, "Nah. Just Eragon. We are equals now."

"No! That's not true, you've got a year on me!" Elva protested, shaking her head.

"A year that's been bridged by your curse and talent."

Saphira's thoughts floated over from the other room. You, too, Vinthael. Such a pair as you with obvious prodigious skills have learned so fast, that we cannot teach you anymore. Eragon and I are also students, and we still don't know many things. We shall learn together from now on.

Elva and Eragon left.

Come on, Vinthael. Let's go out to the desert. Saphira called. I'll meet you behind the city walls.

Yes, ebrithil.

What did I say earlier? I am no master, just a friend. And with that she severed the connection and Vinthael heard her wings beating the air.

I wonder if she was lonely, before I came. Even with Eragon. She's told me stories, and I know I was the last dragon egg, and she risked her life to save me. Vinthael wasn't stupid, and he was getting an idea of the pressure Saphira felt sometimes. And it made him feel kind of awkward. He liked Saphira, but… although he had a responsibility, too, it was an annoying thing to have to consider. Stupid Shruikan and Thorn. I heard Shruikan was a magnificent dragon before Galbatorix twisted him with black magic. Murtagh's a good guy, though Eragon won't admit it. Galbatorix knows his true name, and that's the only reason Murtagh has to work for him. Thorn's good too.

Vinthael, where are you? Let's go! Saphira impatiently nudged him with her mind.

Coming, coming. He called back, and growled to himself. What a witch, can't she wait?

What's wrong with a witch? Solembum suddenly appeared out of nowhere and stared Vinthael in the eye. Promptly, he was covered in smoke as Vinthael stumbed backwards in surprise.

Er… er… nothing, I didn't mean it, Solembum. Sorry.

VINTHAEL. Saphira was getting pissed.