AN: Sorry about the long wait guys. I didn't forget about you. Or this story, I just had two exams in three days and lots of studying to do. FYI, totally rocked my anthro final. BOOM! Anyways. I hope to get one more out tomorrow, but then we'll see what happens. I have three exams next week and then I'm going on a trip to NY for Christmas break. I can probably do the one a-days there because I'm not a tourist and, I have six hours of flight time and a two hour layover. So... lots of writing time. Or Harry Potter reading time. Anyways... bye.

Disclaimer: I disclaim ownership of Inheritance, that distinction belongs to CP, the romance killer.


Arya was settling into her new home, a sparse room furnished with a bed, a desk and a wash closet, and a large bowl shaped indention in the floor, where she assumed that was a resting place for Fìrnen. The house was almost an exact replica of the Rider's house in Ellesmera, and suddenly she felt very at home. It wasn't just the tree house; it was the accumulation of many things. Firstly, the young Riders though most of them had been riders for nigh on ten years, they were all very young in her eyes, and she could see it in the way they behaved. Secondly was Fìrnen's joy to finally be with Saphira again, and the chance to stretch his wings. His joy was palpable as the four dragons came into view, and though it didn't compare to his reaction at seeing Saphira again, she knew he was happy to be with others like him.

Thirdly, and the most important factor in all of this making her feel at home and welcome, was the gaze of Eragon's beautiful brown eyes. No elf had eyes the same color and expressive nature of his, and she loved looking into them. But it was simply his presence that soother her frayed and worried nerves. She was glad to see him, no doubt, but just walking beside him, as she had done numerous times before, felt right.

Even as he stubbornly carried her bags, which caused warmth to spread within her chest, and the way that he had left one for her, his acknowledgement of her own strength and ability was another of his facets that she loved.

And she did love him, but she would have to guard her heart around him. She still had duties to see to in Ellesmera and recklessly allowing herself to succumb to her feelings and desires for him would only lead to heart ache once more. It had nearly destroyed her to let him go, which is why she had asked Fìrnen to pick her up from the bow of the boat. Many times she contemplated turning and following him wherever he went, but she continued home. Tears flowing freely from her eyes as she tried to compose herself before she returned to the forests of her home.

This time she would remain strong, and not do anything foolish. Like act on her desires to be with him, to be held by him, to kiss his full lips –No. She commanded herself, stopping the inevitable flow of her thoughts, something she's had to do many times over the last three decades.

"Be calm Arya." She whispered to herself, unpacking the saddlebags, and softly removing a wooden box that held a gift for Eragon and all of the other Riders. She had already delivered the letters and tokens from the elves for the ones that had left them to help begin the new Riders, and there had been many hard faces as packages were passed to each of the nine elves in question. But the gift for the Riders was from Rhunӧn, and the one from Eragon was a creation by her own hand, and she would give it to him as such.

After securing the gifts in her room, Arya set about to organize and unpack the rest of her belongings. Within minutes, there was a soft consciousness pressing at her mind, and instantly her guard went up, protecting herself from attack. The mind pressing itself upon her took a step back, and waited.

Lowering her guard, she reached back out once she realized that she wasn't under attack, wondering who it was that dared poke into her mind. Sighing as she recognized the mind.

Eragon?

Sorry to intrude Arya, my house is next door, and I was wondering if you'd allow me to escort you to dinner in five minutes time?

I would appreciate that very much.

Spectacular. I will meet you down stairs in five minutes.

Until then, Eragon.

Smiling to herself, Arya quickly finished her unpacking, and slowly made her way down the winding staircase the wound itself in the trunk of the tree, and led back to the earth. Pausing before she stepped out into the early evening sunlight, she took one deep breath and composed herself. Though her heart was racing, and her palms were a little moist, Arya wrangled in her thoughts and emotions and stepped out to meet Eragon.

Her breath nearly hitched in her throat, but she mastered it as she took in his full appearance. He was still wearing the blue tunic that he'd had on earlier, the strings under his chin undone, showing of the top of his chest. The brown leggings he wore hugged the muscles of his legs, and he wore the same boots he had when they fought in the war. Brisingr hung on his hip, the blue scabbard the same color as Saphira's belly. He'd grown a couple inches since she'd last seen him, making him almost a full five inches taller than her and his chocolate brown hair was a bit longer and held a touch of a curl at his temples.

He was the most beautiful man she had ever seen in her life, and it took all of her ability to speak to him in a normal voice. "Good evening Eragon."

"Good evening to you, Arya." He replied back, his spoken voice as soft as velvet, and Arya had to seriously control herself not to swoon. She couldn't recall it being this hard remaining composed and focused in front of him during the war. Then it had been simple, he was a boy and a Rider in love with her. Then, staying composed in front of him had been easy. He wasn't the man that he was right now, or rather she wasn't seeing him as the man that he was. His body had changed in small ways, but the youthful immortality of the elves and the dragons gift, left him looking as the 16 year old he had been during the blood-oath celebration, but it was his eyes that had changed the most.

Deep, soulful brown eyes, filled with his restless soul, the depth of his understanding and whenever he looked at her, a love so deep that she could get lost in it for days on end.

She loved his eyes.

"Have you heard from Fìrnen and Saphira?" She asked, missing her link with Fìrnen, but willing to overlook her discomfort in the pursuit of his happiness. That and she didn't really want to be privy to his feelings while he and Saphira were alone. She knew what would happen, and she didn't need to be around those deep feelings of arousal when she was near Eragon.

Or she might have to tell Fìrnen that she and Eragon had mated. Dear god, woman, stop thinking thoughts like that!

"Umm, no." She almost smiled as the tips of his ears blushed, and a thrill ran through her that he was as affected by Saphira's feelings as she was. She wondered if he still loved her that way. She would never ask, but she wondered. His eyes said that he did, but she was curious about the rest of him.

"Nor I. Are the dragons expected for dinner?"

"No, and I doubt we will see much of them for the next day." As he was talking, he started walking of the steep path that led to the base of the mountain that was home to the Riders hall. She could see the grand entrance, large enough for three very large dragons to enter side by side, cut in the side of the mountain. It was quite formidable seeing it from the ground, and knowing that she would have to walk. Of course had Fìrnen and Saphira been here, they would have flown up, but she would relish her time with Eragon, even if it meant a long walk.

"I have, however, asked that they be back by six in the morning. It's a little before the sunrise, but it will give us time to make it to Grassboat Bluff, if you're willing."

"I am." She responded, easily walking by his side as the trees of the forest thinned out, and gave rise to the steep slope of the mountain. Looking up, she saw the path as it zig-zagged across the mountain leaving a longer, but much less steep path to the opening of the hall, which was about a third of the way up the mountain. From this spot, the mountain looked bigger than the Beor mountains, but she knew that couldn't be true. Those mountains were huge, this mountain, was easily the biggest in this range, was part of a group of mountains that were slightly larger than the peaks of the Spine.

"Why haven't you named this place yet? Besides Grassboat Bluff." She inquired of him, as she followed him up the path.

"I can't seem to think of anything. Besides Dras Shur'tugal Fell." She could hear his own mocking, and knew that it was silly that he felt that way.

"The Dragon Riders Mountain City, is a fantastic name."

"Right. Just like calling a dragon an over-grown lizard is a good name." He laughed at himself, though she used the words for Fìrnen, it was in love, but any other dragon would be offended.

"I actually call Fìrnen an over-grown lizard daily. The name matches the city, and it's purpose, and there are days when Fìrnen is an over-grown lizard."

The laugh that he let loose filled the air around him, and she let loose a small smile because he couldn't see her.

"Saphira too." He admitted, and they continued on in silence up the path. Near the top, Hargsrov and Nineard flew over top of them into the hall which was now only a few hundred feet away. Shortly after, Frain and Xanierv flew in, quickly followed by Gruik and Hhagmhos who they stood back and let fly in before them.

It was a flurry of talking and activity as the nine elves that lived on the mountain city joined the five of them and the three dragons all settled down to wait at the table.

"So, Arya Drӧttning," Frain started, "How do you like our home?"

"I like it very much, but here, there is no need for formality, it's just Arya." Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Eragon smile, and she knew that he was happy here. Though she missed him terribly, his fondness for his pupils, and the way that they revered him.

"Yes ma'am." She smiled at his still overly formal response, and quickly the chatter picked up as they continued sitting.

Just then, there was a rustle of heavy wings as Derrick and Trotski flew into the hold, his great purple body heavy with exertion, Derrick too breathing heavily. The company got quiet and Arya watched with interest as Derrick stood before Eragon, bowing on one knee.

"You're late Derrick." Eragon said matter of factly, no trace of anger in his voice, but an odd smile on his face.

"Yes master." Derrick responded, bowing his head.

"Tomorrow, you spar Arya."

"Yes master." Derrick replied once more, quickly standing and moving to his seat at the other end of the table, waiting for something. Arya was surprised to see all thirteen other heads turn and look at Eragon, not one of them touching their plate, all waiting for something.

"Tonight we are joined by another of number, another Rider, Arya of the elves." The entire group clapped twice, then silence fell again. "Her dragon, Fìrnen could not be with us tonight as he is off with Saphira, the two of them mates," at that she could see his ears redden again and she smiled in the waning sunlight, werelights flickering to life around the cavern.

"So the missing of our number is just one." He raised his goblet, and Arya quickly followed suit, holding the wine aloft and looking at Eragon, wondering about this odd custom, but impressed with the tone of command in voice, and the respect that the young Riders and the elves seemed to give him. "To Thorn and Murtagh."

Arya smiled and repeated the salutation and smiled as she drank from her goblet and the party started eating.

Leaning close to Eragon, as he leaned in towards her she whispered in his ear as the chatter of the table took up again. "Do you do that every night?"

"No," he shook his head, and she started another question, placing her hand on his arm, tingles running through her body at the contact.

"Did you toast to me?" She wondered, a new sense of Eragon seeping in. He cared deeply about the dragon Riders, and was terribly sad that his brother wasn't with them.

"Every night."