Disclaimer: Wish I owned it, but I don't.

I hope you guys are enjoying the story. I promise you that Arya will appear in the story again soon. I just needed to set up some things first. We're getting there, I promise!

Thank you again for all of your support. You have all been awesome! c:

Chapter 7: Musings of a Dragon and Her Rider

Eragon watched as Petrya rode on Verdenci performing aerial acrobatics one after the other, just as Eragon and Saphira had demonstrated. They were struggling with some of them. Eragon had to smile to himself. They were nothing if not willfully stubborn to do their best. Every time they faltered, falling out of a spin or getting caught on updrafts, they started over again, from the beginning.

In the beginning they had complained. Again and again asking why these were necessary. "All of the dragons are gone! There are only us and a few wild ones that Saphira has hatched. Even those take care of themselves and hold to the pact they have made with us. It doesn't make sense. Who, exactly, do you think we're going to be battling?" Petrya had whined.

Patience, Petrya. Things will not always remain the same. You think that there will be no one in your life time that you will have to stand up to, but you are wrong Saphira chided.

Verdenci growled deep in his throat with frustration. But who would dare stand against us? We are the strongest! The best! Who would dare to think they could ever conquer us?

"We shall live a long life, and it would be naïve to think that there will never be a time during which war will be upon us again. Perhaps we will not face another Rider; that is true. But that does not mean that all of the races the world over will live in peace and harmony forever," Eragon said. His voice was soft, as though there was worry hidden just below the surface. The prospect of another war was not one he relished. He and Murtagh alone were the ones to know what it felt like to be a Dragon Rider caught in the thralls of a warring nation: being pulled one way, and then the other, being manipulated by people who wanted nothing more than to use the Riders to establish their own superiority and power over others. Every day during the warring years, Eragon had lived in fear for those he loved. Would today be the day that they fell, somewhere on that blood-soaked field? Or would they return triumphant?

Saphira turned towards their squired pair. Remember your lessons. Surely, in all the texts you have read, you have seen a pattern. Our world stands ever on the head of a needle. Every time the balance shifts, when someone new takes power and uses it irresponsibly at the expense of the peoples they rule, the balance tips. The world is threatened with plummeting into a chaos that it will not be able to control. What then, have you learned about our own responsibilities?

Petrya thought for a long moment. "We are the ones who guard the balance. We live long enough to watch the world tip one way, and then the other. So we must regulate that tipping. Using our neutrality to save the world from falling. We have the power to influence the world, but must stop ourselves from ruling it."

"Just so," Eragon replied. "When you sit down to study, remember that it never ends. There will never be a time when you know everything. You will work every day of your life learning what it means to be a Rider, and what it means to know the history that has come before you and the impact of the history you will make. It is a daunting task, I admit, but also a necessary one."

Yes master Verdenci's thoughts echoed in their minds. It did not stop their grumbling altogether, but it did slow it for a time.

In the years following Roran's death, Eragon traveled extensively. He came back every few months to check on Katrina and the family, but spent most of his time on Saphira's back, seeing everything there was to see.

One place he deliberately avoided was the awe-some forest of Du Weldenvarden. Although he knew the likelihood of seeing the elven maiden was slim to none there, he was wont to put off the confrontation as long as he could.

It has to happen sometime, Eragon Saphira told him softly.

What must?

Seeing her. Arya. You will have to see her eventually. There are the celebrations that rejoice the end of the war and honor those who died fighting it. You haven't attended in several years. Word is, your absence has been noted.

I know that as well as you do. I just… can't bring myself to do it. Not yet. In a few more years, when my… frustration… has ebbed, then I will see her.

Saphira pondered this for a long while. Her own 'frustrations' had not cooled a single bit since the funeral and homage to Roran. Within her heart raged a roaring fire for the hurt the elf had caused her Rider, her dear friend and companion. I will have to have a long talk with her she mused to herself.

Eragon, we will go to the festival this year.

"What? Why?" Eragon said, all astonishment.

Because it is right for you to be there. You survived the war. The people, the mortals who fought the war along side of you are dying. More of them every day perish due to sickness or old age. They deserve to be remembered. And soon… all of them will pass into the eternal slumber. YOU will be the only one left to show the horror that Galbatorix unleashed upon the world.

Why should I have to be the one to do that? Countless elves and dwarves fought with me. Murtagh and Thorn were there too!

Saphira's voice was positively dripping with exasperation as she said Eragon, Murtagh and Thorn fough for Galbatorix a good portion of the war. He is hardly the celebrated war hero you are. We know there was no way to help it, but it is hard for other people who do not understand to accept it. Soon this war will pass into stories, and then into legends. YOU are the one who keeps the stories, the memories, and the legacies alive. You are needed, Eragon.

Eragon sighed. He knew she was right, of course. That fact, however, didn't seem to make the prospect any easier.

What would I even say to her? It's not like I can just tell her that what she did hurt me. She would say that it doesn't matter. After all, I'm the one that said we should distance ourselves. I just… wanted to protect her from… from me, I guess. Arrrrgh! I don't know what to do, Saphira. I feel like such a fool around her. I don't want her to see me like this. Roran has been dead for six years now, and I'm still a mess inside.

Saphira made a comforting lament for him. It does not help that Katrina's health is failing. You have to remember, it is not just one thing. You have a lot of pain in your life right now, Eragon. No one should hold that against you; least of all yourself. You have to learn to accept that you're in pain. It's okay to show it.

"The elves don't show it. They're happy enough to show when they're happy, but it seems rare for them to show the pain when they hurt themselves."

I do not think that is true. Remember when Oromis and Glaedr died? Arya broke down.

Eragon nodded. "That's true." After that, he was quiet. Saphira knew he had lost himself in his thoughts. He did this often now. Retreating back into himself to examine his own thoughts and feelings. He would not admit that he needed help. He would tell her, confide in her always. But show that weakness to Arya? Never.

No doubt he was remembering those painful days after their masters' death. It had been Eragon who comforted Arya. Knowing that she, too, had shared a deep and profound respect and relationship with the old Rider and his dragon had helped each of them cope with their overwhelming grief. It was then, oddly enough, that Eragon and Arya had been closest. It had happened a few times: Arya breaking down; Eragon being the one there to hold her. They cried together, sharing their grief and mourning the loss of a great hero and dear friend.

To herself, Saphira thought we shall just have to wait and see. Saphira had never considered herself dumb. She had a talent, a knack if you will, for being able to read people. Seeing into the hearts, she would discover things that people overlook when they are too busy playing their social games with one another. Direct honest when it came to matters of the heart and soul was a rare event, and it boggled her mind.

Arya did not hate Eragon any more than he did her. She deeply suspected that Arya was just as hurt as Eragon had been when he told her that he was suffering being around her without being able to act on his feelings. They each tell themselves they hurt for different reasons, but if they actually TALKED about it, they would see they are exactly the same. How they could be so blind was beyond her.

Saphira was determined to talk to Arya. She knew it wasn't her place, but things would never be settled if someone didn't give them both the shove they needed. She could not stand watching for centuries (Please don't let this take that long!) as Eragon and Arya both suffered in silence. Sure, right now they were angry with each other, frustrated, and troubled, but eventually that would stop. All that would be left was an almost mind-numbing acceptance that fate had abandoned them to live the remainder of their years in dreary melancholy. Alright, that may be a bit dramatic Saphira admitted.

Despite her anger with Arya and her empathy for Eragon, both were important to her. Arya had been a prominent figure in her life. It was because of Arya that she had been able to meet Eragon, thus beginning their adventure and life together. Arya was dear to her. What's more, she was dear to Eragon. She would see them both happy if it was the last thing she did.

More than that, she wasn't sure if she could put up with their moping.

LOL. Oh Saphira… you silly dragon, you!

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Lml/ Kess