"Seek to free a foolish spirit were disasters become connected," she said, "For only there can solace be found and true aid given. Then proceed to the place where it all began, and there you will find the things which you seek."

Again and again, those enigmatic words rang through Miles's unconscious mind. She could hardly close her eyes without the same old images burning across her imagination, searing the message into her mind. She couldn't forget the words, or deny they held some kind of importance – though she couldn't for the life of her manage what.

She began to focus more and more of her energies on pondering the words of the werecat; if she'd any doubts that it had, indeed, been a werecat, those had been lain to rest when she'd seen the girl in both her forms. She took whatever form caught her fancy, but she always sat under the same tree – Miles's tree – and spoke the same words, never straying from the script so much as a letter.

As if the endless repetition would make the actual content of the message any more intelligible.

Many times she would pick out small parts of them and ponder each syllable for uncounted minutes; in the brief rest between training, in the rides to and from the Crags of Tel'naeír during both the cool, gray dawn and inflamed sunset. To her dismay, the more she pondered the words, the less and less they made sense.

It would have been better for her peace of mind and training had she been able to simply dismiss it as an odd, albeit strangely reoccurring, dream; nothing more, nothing less. But she couldn't – it wasn't because Eragon had told her she would do well to heed the words of a werecat, though that had certainly helped, it was the simple ring of truth the words carried as they reverberated through the air, piercing her consciousness and making her shiver.

She didn't tell anyone. She couldn't tell anyone.

A foolish spirit? She asked Eværín for the umpteenth time that night, sitting cross-legged in the clothes she reserved for sleeping, her back to the closed canopy which sheltered her from the storm raging outside. Does that mean some kind of Shade, perhaps? Maybe it's foolish, and its gone and turned it's hosts' hair and eyes blue instead of red, and the other Shades are embarrassed.

Go to sleep, said Eværín, who was still curled up in his bed; his purple scales glittering in the muted light, his tone borderingon exasperation. The sun will rise before you get to the bottom of this riddle, even if you stay up all night; you might as well rest, you will need your rest and energy to face whatever the day may bring.

Yes, but… she sighed, her head in her hands. She didn't want to go to sleep just yet, though she knew it had to be some hours past midnight. She didn't want to spend the rest of the night tossing about on her bed, the image of some godforsaken werecat chanting maddening conundrums at her, staring at her with gleaming eyes, almost teasing her. In a bit, she hedged. You should probably get some sleep, though. She added as an afterthought/

She felt sympathy seep through their mental link, and looked up to where Eværín was curled up. He had opened one large eye to look at her, and she gave him a small smile.

I'm fine. She assured him. Now go to sleep. She stood, wincing as her joints cracked after sitting so long before then took the short walk to her small library. She sank down into the chair that she'd once again neglected to push back into place upon leaving it earlier that evening, sinking into its back, and observing the mess that painted the surface of the desk before her with a wary eye. Remind me to clean this up, she thought to Eværín - though, it seemed he had already gone to sleep. Good, he needs his rest. Instead, then, she plucked one scroll out of the jumbled mass at random, and opened it; she scanned its contents, humming quietly to herself. She always remembered her mother telling her that music was the best tool to keep back the cold.

In hindsight, she would rather have fire in a pinch, but the sentiment was nice.

The gale had yet to abate when Miles had finally gone to bed, some hours and at least half a dozen scrolls later; she made herself go to bed after her eyelids began to droop unbearably. She was asleep the minute her head hit the pillow, too tired to even dream; the gray which followed the night but proceeded the dawn had enveloped the room, and she fell asleep listlessly under its weight.

It felt as if she had scarcely allowed her eyes to fall fully, and blissfully, shut when someone stormed through her door. Though it had felt like only a matter of seconds, she knew it must have been at least a few hours; the daylight had come to replace the dreary dawn, and the new light had somehow filtered into her tree house. Yet, it had failed to wake Miles as it normally would have.

"Miles! We're going to be late, come on," Said Thad, not bothering to knock before opening the door.

At least I'm a girl, and I don't sleep naked, she thought blearily to Eværín, earning a chuckle from the dragon, but still laying on her bed unmoving and extremely warm. She was awake, but her eyelids remained closed. She couldn't even spare the energy at the moment to wonder why Eværín hadn't woken her.

She simply slumped back into sleep's blissful back embrace, ignoring her friend, and drifted into the land of her subconscious mind, which held nothing but peace for the first time in weeks.

She was jolted awake what felt like years later, and Thad was shaking her shoulder. "Miles, you need to wake up. Right now would be nice. Eragon is waiting – we're not training today, and you're in luck, else we'd both be in for it. Now, come on, get up lazy-head!"

She groaned, blinking her eyes open and giving him a blisteringly unforgiving look – one she was quite proud of, all things considering, she felt as if her limbs were tied to the bed and laden with stones. She was curled up in a small ball, the blanket that had adorned the bed so neatly just the other day sprawled around her, half on the floor. She was so, incredibly comfortable and warm, she didn't think she'd ever have the will power to get up.

Fortunately, or unfortunately, Thad decided to fix that problem for her.

Seeing that she was now, in fact, awake, Thad grabbed her hands and pulled her gently off the bed and to her feet, until she still stood fully on her own, quivering like a wavering tree before a summer storm. He dropped her arms unceremoniously, and she reluctantly walked over to where a tray filled with water and fresh fruit had been left for her.

"Well, that was a harsh choice of words," she said, her voice still thick with sleep. She ignored the food, and instead took a long draft of crisp, cool water.

"What time did you go to bed?" He asked, "Not that you've ever been particularly punctual, but I don't think you've ever overslept… or at least, not while we've been here."

"Someone's grumpy today," She bypassed his question; she didn't want to talk to anyone about what had kept her up so late, especially Thad.

"Just hurry up," He said, and walked out the door again. She sighed, sitting back down on the bed.

What are the chances of me getting away with it if I lay back down and go to sleep?

Absolutely none. You would be training as usual if there were not more important things to do, so there must be something that requires some proper attention from the lot of us. Eværín responded, and released the canvas from its binds across her window with an elegant flick of his barbed tongue. A fearsome ray of sunshine flooded into the room, which was magnified tenfold when Eværín launched himself into the air; the light rebounded off his mirror-like scales and blinded her. Now get dressed. He said before disappearing from sight, leaving her to wince at the sudden flush of light and prepare herself for the day.

She winced at the sudden intensity of light in her eyes, before turning to go to the washroom to reluctantly prepare for the day.

She'd never been one to dwell much on her looks, at least not in day-to-day activities, so she didn't look too terribly shabby by comparison to how she normally dressed – only a bit more haggard than usual. Being low-maintenance had its perks, it seemed; she was descending the stairs into the freshly washed forest after no more than ten minutes.

She coughed out some excuse for being so late to the – whatever this was – and the six of them began the long trek towards Tialdarí Hall, Eragon in the lead. While they walked, Eragon spoke for a while; he told them of the goings on of the elves, under the direction of Queen Arya, to investigate where he could not, and who could do so with a precision only an elf could muster. Presumably, this 'investigation' had yielded significant results, though their stay in Ellesméra had only been for some weeks – such was the effectiveness of the elves.

After Eragon had finished speaking, the group sputtered into a kind of silence; though no one spoke, the forest around them echoed with exaggerated sounds and alighted upon their eyes in a wide array of bright colors, in the kind of vibrant shades that could only be result from a storm. Luckily, no trees had been blown over, or none that Miles could see.

She had hoped that their walk would prove similar to the other one the group had taken upon their first morning in Ellesméra, and run into Angela once more – she could have asked that woman one million and one questions and still be burning with curiosity. However, she was unlucky, and she was actually rather disappointed to set her gaze upon the magnificent residence of the Elvish Queen, though she would have been positively delighted at any almost other time.

She had only been to Tialdarí Hall a few times in all of her time at Ellesméra, which was a considerable chunk for a human – though, she was a Rider, now – but, like the rest of the city, the Hall was breathtakingly beautiful. It melded just as seamlessly with its surroundings, yet, it still managed to stand apart from the rest of the buildings in Ellesméra, and held an air of quiet command – fitting for a ruler such as Queen Arya. And that was all just the actual Hall itself – the gardens were widely acknowledged as one of the best sights in Ellesméra. They were indescribably beautiful, holding a flower every shade of the rainbow, and a few besides.

But, they didn't get a chance to see much of the gardens at all; it was all business for their little group. They didn't actually go into the hall itself, actually. While it would have been just large enough to accommodate Eværín and Velęs, it was not large enough to permit one of Saphira's immense size. So, they ended up in a small courtyard some distance from the entrance to Tialdarí Hall which had apparently been prepared for just this purpose.

When they arrived in the small copse, Miles immediately noticed a large mirror that clung to what looked to be some sort of tent pole; the swirling image, no doubt enabled by a scrying spell, held a single elf in its forefront, though others were apparent in the background.

The elf had silvery hair, and was speaking with great respect to a woman with slanted eyes of emerald, pointed ears and hair black as night that grew unchecked down her back; it was kept from her elegant face with a small, delicate crown of gold that stood out from her hair like a flash of lightening.

Arya waited patiently for the elf to finish speaking before politely excusing herself and turning to the group; Eragon, standing at the forefront of it, bowed to the Queen, his arm twisted over his chest in an elvish sign of respect. Miles followed in suit, and Thad as well – after Miles elbowed him, that is. They then proceeded through each of the elvish greeting customs, which was annoying but necessary, before all crowding around the mirror.

The elf in the mirror introduced himself as Alansiëa before beginning to speak again, though Miles couldn't remember much of what he said, after she heard the word "Giants,"

Giants?


ERAGON

While what had attacked the camp remained as unclear as ever, Eragon knew that it would prove unwise to remain in Ellesméra for much longer when whatever it was as most likely going towards the Boer Mountains – the dwarves were more likely to need help than anyone else at the moment, and so that is where he must go. Was it not his duty as a Rider to help those who needed it?

And someone had to face it down – who better to be that 'someone' than him? However, now he had to decide upon whether it would be wise for his students to accompany him.

While he'd no doubt that Thad could handle himself in battle with a sword, and Miles with magic, he was unsure if whatever they would be facing in the Beors would be like a battle against any kind of foe they'd been trained to fight against – he couldn't risk their lives in such an unsure battle when they already had so little experience. He would have to see if Arya could keep Miles and Thaddeus in their same quarters; he would see to it they'd something to do to keep up with their training in his absence.

Though, of course he would wait for Murtagh to arrive in Ellesméra, before setting out to do what he could. If anyone would want to fight the monsters alongside him, he knew it would be Murtagh.

I am not sure if the hatchlings will appreciate your concerns, said Saphira.

I know, Eragon sighed, But what else can I do? They've only had so much training…

More than you had.

Yes, but that's different. What I lacked in instruction I quickly gained in experience,

They shall never gain any experience if you insist on keeping them from combat.

This isn't just combat Saphira! I've only the vaguest idea of what these creatures are, and absolutely no idea of their weaknesses. 'Giants' is just a guess, these things could just as easily be something else that has never been in the recorded history of Alagaësia - something that's been sleeping in the east since the creation of the land itself, biding its time to reclaim it's territory. I have to fight it as best I can, but while Miles and Thad are so young, I cannot let them accompany me. This is no mere raid.

I know, little one. But if what you say is true, it would be the height of folly to fly into such a fight with only myself to help you; you know I will follow you to the ends of the earth and fight to the death alongside you, but this is foolishness. Allow the elves to come with you, and your students and Murtagh as well. The more sheer numbers you have to combat sheer size, the better the odds of survival for everyone.

Eragon thought for a long moment, before reluctantly agreeing. Nodding tiredly to himself, thinking with wariness at what needed to be done, he pushed himself up from his chair; a scroll containing several large mythical beasts, whose descriptions had long since been lost to common tongues, was left laying across his desk as he made to leave the tree house which had been his home for the past weeks.

Well, if they're going to fight, they'll need something to fight with.

It was a short walk this time to reach Rhunön's forge, though he'd only traversed the path a few times before. A sense of urgency quickened his steps, so that he soon found himself face to face with the elf as he had only weeks before, when he'd first come to Ellesméra.

Like always, the elf did not look up from her work as he entered. She was working on some tool or another, but he didn't look to admire her work as he normally would have; he needed to know that she would consent to make swords for at least Thad in the same manner she had his – not, necessarily, through one of their minds, but in a short span of time; as long as it took for Murtagh to meet them. No more than a few days.

"Rhunön-elda," he said, respectfully, but didn't bother with any other pleasantries; he felt he had not time for them, and knew they would fall upon ears that did not wish to hear them anyways. "I've come to release you from your oath," He said.

He had hesitated before, but the need was urgent, or so he felt; he had the capability to release someone from an oath in the Ancient Language, using its name, but it was not something he wanted to bandy about with anyone, if he could help it.

"That is, if you wish me to," he amended. At this, the elf stood from her work, despite the fact that the metal was still cheery-red with heat.

"And what oath might this be, Shadeslayer?" She asked, her voice raspy, "I remember swearing no oath to you."

"No, not to me," He said, "in the Ancient Language. If you will consent to make my students swords, I will release you from your oath; you will be able to make such weapons once more, unbound by your words all those years ago."

Rhunön didn't speak for a moment, examining Eragon's face for any signs of deceit – he kept his expression bland; he would have thought himself ridiculous in her position as well, but he'd nothing to hide.

"How so?" She asked after a moment, her words long and drawn-out.

"I think you know the answer to that," He said, unwilling to actually say it out loud.

For a moment, Rhunön seemed to struggle with the implications of what he might be saying.

"Are you willing?" He asked after again. She nodded tersely, her lips pressed into a thin line.

"Alright then; have done with it."

A little over an hour later, Eragon was walking back to the tree house. It had not taken too long to free Rhunön from her promise in the Ancient Language – he knew that he could do it, but until he had actually gone to release Rhunön from her actual promise, he had not considered how the actual act might be done. He knew the Name of the Ancient Language, but he knew not how to apply it to her oaths to so as to break them and thus allow her to once again make swords for the Riders.

He ended up, then, having to try multiple different approaches; first, he simply spoke the word, and had Rhunön begin to make a sword; when her oaths would not allow her, he simply thought of a new way to apply it. He was wary, though, for the elf seemed to grow more impatient by the minute.

Luckily, he stumbled upon the correct way to break the oath only two tries later; after speaking them to her, and then to the tools and brightsteel, he had her speak her oaths out loud and then spoke the Name of the Ancient Language, and she was able to complete the first step in the creation of a new sword. It was in this way that he had intended to leave her to her work, getting as far as the edge of the clearing that housed her forge, when she called him back.

"Shadeslayer!" she called, "I trust you remember the first step in the creation of your sword?" When he gave her a blank look, she huffed once again with impatience, "I cannot make a sword if I do not know the fighting style of whom I am making it for. Your students, Shadeslayer, you must bring them here!"

So, he nodded and turned to leave once more without another word.

He was anxious about how Rhunön would perceive Miles and Thad, for only Thad was really competent with a sword, and Rhunön was hardly one to soften her words. Nonetheless, if she would consent to make the swords they would be useful, and he would be remiss not to try.

And so, Eragon set out to collect his students for the second time that day. He had hoped they'd have chosen to spend their unoccupied time at the tree houses, but he knew that no one would really chose to stay in their rooms when there was a city as incredible as Ellesméra to see. He checked back to where the tree houses were located, anyways, just to be sure.

Where do you think they might be? He asked Saphira, when he arrived at the small clearing in between the tree houses.

Your guess is as good as mine, she said, flying down from the largest tree house, her blue scales throwing off the noonday sun.

Well I can't look for them with my mind – who knows how many elves I would encounter in the process.

No, I don't think that would be wise.

So I guess I'll just have to walk?

I should think not. She huffed, flying down to the clearing as he entered it, positioning herself to allow him to climb onto her back.

He smiled, Of course.

With the aid of Saphira, it was only a short ride over Ellesméra to locate the two or rather, shorter than it would have been to walk. It was still about half an hour before they located the two; it was, in his opinion, about twenty-five minutes too many.


MILES

Though she knew it would serve her better to take a nap and make up for the hours of sleep she had lost the previous night, Miles found herself rapping on the door to Thad's tree house after had Eragon released them for the day, off to do gods know what – not that she was complaining.

She'd wanted to look around Ellesméra once more since returning from the East, but had not really had the chance; though she could technically use the time after they returned to their respective quarters in the evenings however she chose, she couldn't go out for the substantial amount of time required to accomplish the trip to her liking, and then still have time enough to read all the scrolls that Eragon had given her. She didn't really much careshe really doubted that Ellesméra had changed at all in her absence, for the elves were so long lived, that the few years had probably passed unnoticed by many of them.

However, now that the opportunity had presented herself, there was no way she was going to pass it up, and no way she was not going to drag Thad along with her. Whether or not he wanted to, though she suspected he would have wondered about the city on his own anyways, he was going to accompany her for her trip down memory lane.

So, she got a little impatient when he didn't at first answer her knocks. She was a bit worried he had gone off on his own, and the last thing she wanted to do was go track him down to walk with her – she wasn't some kind of nannying goose. Though she didn't much like the idea of walking alone now that she'd set her heart on showing Thad the elvish city.

She knocked once more, hoping that he had somehow missed the first one, but that, too, went unanswered. So, of course, she did what any sane person would do in the same situation.

And, if you guessed turning away and walking on her own was the answer, then you would be wrong; she barged right through the door.

What? It was unlocked, anyways. He was practically asking for someone to break in, she said to Eværín, sensing his reproach.

Its your decision, little one. He said simply.

"Tha-ad!" She called in a sing-song voice through the small apartments, which were reminiscent of her own. However, there were a number of small differences; in the midst of the small foyer where one initially entered the tree house, there was a small collection of werelights, each no bigger than her thumb, which cascaded down the sides of an elegant tendril of carved wood at different lengths; there were dozens, like small fireflies tethered to the ceiling. They fluttered around in the gentle breeze that blew through the opened bedroom window.

Other than that, he had the same small study area with a number of scrolls – some dusty ones, having sat there for ages, alongside the ones Thad had been reading, given to him by Eragon; he had organized his, Miles remarked to herself, whereas hers lay sprawled about, muddled and chaotic. He had the same washroom, and a similar bedroom, though all placed in the reverse order of her own.

To her surprise, the boy whom she sought walked out of the washroom after hearing his name for the third time, his hair dripping wet and very much shirtless; as if he had decided to, for some reason completely beyond her, practice some sort of fighting – presumably sparring – and had then washed up. In fact, she was positive this was what had happened. She raised her eyebrows. Overachiever, she thought with an internal eye roll.

"Do you just walk around your quarters shirtless, then?" She asked, taking the few steps into his bedroom and grabbing the clean shirt which lay somewhat crumpled on the bed, as if it had been thrown there some time ago. She tossed it at him, "Come on then; are you coming with me?" As if I would take no for an answer, she remarked to Eværín, amused.

"And where are we going?" He asked, grabbing the shirt with an agility she would never be able to duplicate, and walking back into the washroom to himself off.

"Oh, here and there," She said vaguely, gesturing around widely, "Places."

"Right, because that's not at all vague and completely trustworthy," He said, his voice thick with sarcasm.

"Great! Glad to hear you're coming." She said brightly.

She greeted Velęs, who was laying in the shallow impression of the bedroom floor made especially for dragons, before leaving the bedroom and wandering into the study. She dusted her fingers over the scrolls, looking at each of them carefully; identifying and addressing each of their contents in her mind before moving along to the next.

He had received the same amount of widely varied topics she had to read on, though they were different from her own. Eragon must think we'll always be working together, she realized, what better way to teach us a wide variety of topics – at least one of us would know something on almost anyything we might encounter in Alagaësia, if we carried on like this for much longer. She smiled to herself, that's brilliant!

Brilliant indeed, remarked Eværín.

She didn't notice when Thad emerged from the washroom about five minutes later, smelling of sweet soap in freshly laundered linens. She was sitting in his chair, curled up in it as only she could manage, a scroll of old dwarvish tales sprawled open on her lap.

"You were saying something about going somewhere?" He prompted, leaning on the doorframe of the study and folding his arms.

She gave him a wane smile, holding a finger to her lips for a moment, and returning to the story – she wanted to show him Ellesméra, but not before she finished reading the last few lines from the tale of the Siege of Orthiad.

"Yes!" She said, popping up from the chair after reading the last word, attempting to roll the scroll back as neatly as Thad had and placing it on the shelf. He rolled his eyes.

"Here; let me." She stepped back as he fixed it, before leading him wordlessly outside. They headed down the staircase from his door, and into the clearing amidst the numerable tree houses that had once housed Ellesméra's resident Dragon Riders.

"We're going to see Ellesméra," She informed him, "I shall be your guide,"

He snorted, "Yes, I assumed as much."

"Don't be pert," She said, elbowing him. He put his hands up in mock surrender.

Though she hadn't been in Ellesméra long enough to know the way into the parts of the city she wanted to show Thad, it wasn't too hard to figure out – at least, not if you knew what to look for. The ability to pick out elvish buildings sung from the trees out of the actual landscape, for one, and spotting the neat trails was another. As they were something she had spent several years looking at, she was pretty good at recognizing both, but she doubted anyone but an elf could manage it one hundred percent of the time.

The trails made by the elves were always something that puzzled her; somehow, they weren't quite the same as trails made by humans; she didn't know how, but while they were certainly trodden upon, no matter how well used she knew they must be, they still grew grass and were very much a part of the surroundings. Must be magic, she thought.

They didn't go into Tialdarí Hall, where they'd been just that afternoon; she might have seen if it were possible for them to look at the gardens, had Thad expressed an interest, but he dismissed the offer.

"Show me what you think I ought to see," He said, "I don't anticipate this being the only time we'll walk the city; there will be other times to look at other things. Go on, then."

So, she took him around the places she liked the most where she'd spent large parts of her youth in Ellesméra. She took him to the Menoa tree, though that didn't captivate him for as long as it had her upon her first visit to the tree.

After that, she only briefly took him to a clearing located a somewhat small distance away where she'd first learned to meditate, and had spent most of her reading time. That didn't interest him much past politeness, but she hadn't expected it too – that was more of a stop for herself, a silent tribute to all the time she'd spent there.

They walked around for a bit, talking quietly so as not to disturb the elves, or, indeed, for them not to overhear their conversation; with their hearing, who knew what the various elves they encountered could make out of their words? They talked of nothing particularly secretive, but it was never wise to shout ones words from the rooftops, especially in a city populated by Elves and the occasional werecat, and mysterious herbalists to boot.

She walked him past a number of buildings, and pointed them out as discreetly as possible, which she had always marked as fascinating while growing up; but she'd never had the audacity to ask for entrance. There was one home, sung out of a tree like most the rest, which was half underground – the door was sun into the roots of a large tree, but several rooms rose out of the dirt behind it and appeared to be housed in a type of glass or crystalline dome; inside were a number of stargazing instruments, and she had occasionally seen an elf with dark hair and glittering skin using them late at night when she passed by.

Another interesting house was one nearer to where she'd been raised by her caretaker, Lútheiņ. It rose six slim, but powerful, stories into the sky; how it still managed to be so nondescript was completely beyond Miles, and yet it was. You might miss it if you didn't look too carefully, It was beautiful, with the webbing like veins that ran through each story, with windows of glass placed in random corners and moss growing on it. She knew not who it housed, nor what their logic was behind building such a tall house, but she thought it was absolutely breathtaking. Whimsical, as her sister might have said.

At last, they reached the home where she'd been raised during her time in Ellesméra – really, where she'd been raised, period. When she'd been brought to Ellesméra, she was no more than a rag muffin with a talent for finding herself in trouble and poorly attempted to pick pockets. How she'd even managed to survive as long as she did on the streets was something that Miles would never understand, but, again, she wasn't about to complain.

The elf who had raised her, Lútheiņ, had been her first teacher; someone who had answered all her questions with a patience and kindness that was unprecedented in Miles's life. She supposed it might not have been if she could remember more of her mother, but as she couldn't, it was. She hadn't seen her in a few years, since she'd been deemed old enough to train with the rest of the New Riders, but she suddenly felt anxious about meeting her again.

But, she was already in sight of the house; a small one story home, humble and secluded in a small copse of trees that was cut through on one side by a small creek. It had a number of large windows, which was something that endeared Miles to the place when she was young; whatever home she ended up living in, if ever she did, she had decided it would have the same amount of window space as the small home where she'd spent most of her childhood.

"Windows feed the soul," as Lútheiņ had always told her.

The elf herself sat on the same tree stump situated perfectly in the clearing to catch the right amount of sunlight to warm and light, but not to be too hot. Like the other elves, Lútheiņ had dedicated herself to a certain craft or task for however long it took her to master; though hers, Miles doubted, would ever be a task that would end. She was dedicated to the task of learning and teaching, and the pursuit of knowledge – this had made her the ideal person to raise Miles, and teach her some of the basic things she would need to know as a Rider.

As Elves also considered it a great honor to raise children, Lútheiņ had accepted her into her home without qualm.

Miles felt a wave of nostalgia unlike any she'd felt that day when she walked into the clearing with Thad – Lútheiņ sat on the same stump, reading a scroll and sipping tea as she had the first day Miles had ever seen her; her hair, like starlight, shone in the sunlight. Her kind eyes scanned the page in front of her with a delicacy that spoke of unnumbered years expertise.

She almost stopped in her tracks, but she wanted desperately to greet her old mentor.

"Lútheiņ-elda," She said, her voice wavering ever so slightly, bowing and twisting her hand over her chest in the elvish sign of respect. Thad did the same, and Lútheiņ looked up at the two.

Miles knew she had to have known or suspected that they were coming – or heard them coming, at the very least – for she had always discouraged training all of one's focus truly on one topic.

"You may be reading," as Lútheiņ told her on innumerable occasions, "but your senses must be ever aware of your surroundings. What is the point in gainng knowledge if you numb yourself to the real world in the process?"

The elf rose gracefully, returning the greetings. After they'd each repeated back the customary greeting of the elves, through which Miles held her breath – she wanted to speak to Lútheiņ, but after so many years, she didn't know how to begin. So many words rushed to her mouth, each begging to be spoken first, she feared they would tumble out of her mouth like the ocean tide, and fail to make any sense. In that case, nothing will have changed, she thought with some tinge of amusement.

Lútheiņ looked on the girl with fondness, holding up her hand to stay Miles's words, "Now, child, before you get started we must step inside. For the sun grows hot, and you and your friend have been outside all day. Let us step inside for a moment." She led the way into her home, which was no less charming than when Miles had last left it, and offered them each a drink of Faelnirv.

On behalf of Thad as well as herself, Miles declined – she didn't think it wise to expose her friend to such a strong drink while they would have to be training the next day, or perhaps even traveling after these Giants.

After they were all settled in the elegant wooden chairs around the small table in Lútheiņ's home, the elf spoke once more. "Now," She said, "You must tell me all that has happened since we last spoke."

Miles had been eager to speak on the subject only moments before, but now that she examined what she had wanted to say, none of it was anything she wanted Lútheiņ to know. She didn't want to speak of the way she was shunned and bullied in the east, or how it was the camp was then destroyed – however, the training since then, in Ellesméra, seemed a fair enough topic to broach without anything too negative tainting it.

So, she spoke of their training – how she was terrible at swordsmanship, but was improving slowly, and how Thad was talented. Though Miles had been fluent in the Ancient Language, Thad had made great progress in that area. They'd both gained great knowledge on a wide variety of other topics they might encounter later while helping to police Alagaësia, and both of them had learned a number of useful spells; though, on considerably different levels. She spoke highly of Eragon, and of his teaching – for he had done a great job, despite the circumstances.

She spoke until her throat was dry, and then spoke a bit more; gods know if she was capable of anything, it was talking. Lútheiņ remained as patient as ever with her speech, and Thad seemed amused by it. The two remained polite with each other throughout, and Miles knew that Thad could not regard her old mentor and caretaker the same way she did upon their first meeting, and so she was satisfied with the interaction.

After she had finally finished speaking, Lútheiņ nodded from across the table where she sat, lithe and observant as ever.

"You have experienced much since we last met," She said, nodding with approval, "You have grown much; I am proud,"

This lifted Miles's spirits like a thousand flights past the summer sun. A wide smile broke across her face, and she positively beamed.

A knock sounded from the door before the elf could speak again, to Miles's disappointment, and it was Eragon who stepped through the door.

He greeted Lútheiņ with respect, and politely requested that Miles and Thad accompany him at once on 'urgent businesses'. Miles frowned; disappointed that her visit should be cut short before it had really began, but knew she must obey.

Lútheiņ agreed, and gracefully showed them out of her home. However, she pulled Miles aside before the three left to join their respective dragons, and set off on whatever Eragon had wanted them to do. In a surprising show of affection, Lútheiņ gave Miles the briefest of hugs.

"Do not fret," She said, "There will be other times for you to return to Ellesméra, and different occasions for us to talk. Go, be on your way, and do what must be done."

"I will," She answered smiling.

The group departed, and Miles immediately asked what this 'urgent business' was, and why it had to be so urgent as to interrupt their visit. She knew she was being more than a little rude, but – feeling more like her old self, despite the 'growth' she'd experienced in the past years – she didn't much care.

"Well," Her new mentor answered, choosing his words with care, "If we're going to be fighting, then you'll need something to fight with."

Miles felt dread clutch at her stomach: He means swords.


A.N - So, I said I was going to be better about updating more quickly, and instead, I'm pretty sure I got worse. Whoops :/ I'm hoping the next chapter won't take so long!