You have no idea how much fun I had writing this chapter!

Probably because I've been abstaining from writing scenes that include both Arya and Eragon at the same time because whenever I do, I always get these PMs that are all like "MAKE EXA HAPPEN ALREADY!" But I WILL NOT until lil Arya is ready! *stern expression* She is an IC character, and CP's Arya has a few issues that rather inhibit developing relationships, so like it or not, EXA happens when ARYA is ready! Patience is a virtue my children!

Now that I've vented a little bit... :)

I've decided to rip my hair out repeatedly over all of the downright odd issues that are happening with the login right now (or if they're fixed, a day or two ago). Most of the time I couldn't get on to check if any of my lovely readers had left a review, and this made me sad. Do you think I'd work the bald head? :(

AND I would like to set another goal, and since you guys did so fantastic last time, I KNOW you can impress me again!
I think we should aim for... 92 reviews! (A fabulous number, and so very close to 100!)

But if the login bug persists I will of course extend the time period for this, because I want NO ONE to feel any unnecessary pressure to review as they read. *winks*

Hopefully you guys love this lil intro to more time with Eragon as much as I do! Please review, and remember... 92! :)

Four days had passed since the Varden had departed from Feinster, leaving a small amount of fighters remaining in control of the city to prevent any rebellion from citizens still loyal to Galbatorix. To Arya, those days had seemed a bit of a blur of activity; insignificant figments of memory to be crammed inside her head, which held so many such figments as it was. But at least they were now moving, as were the elven reinforcements that she had requested of her Queen.

So traveled Arya's train of thought as she emerged, blinking sleepily, from her tent just in time to observe the sun rise over the unfamiliar terrain of the land between Feinster and Belatona. She would bear witness to many new sights in the coming days and months, for she had not traveled within the empire with much frequency at all, merely skirting around its borders. Even Eragon had seen more of it than she, and he had been alive for a much shorter time period. And not suffered nearly so much. Immortality is new to him, and he has yet to watch his human friends age and die while he remains untouched by time.

Shaking herself of this rather morbid thought, Arya flitted around for Blodhgarm with her mind and, having found the elf, began to head towards his general vicinity. She decidedly preferred the company of other elves to any humans' at the moment.

Initially, she was irked to find them simply skulking about Eragon and Saphira (giving them as much privacy as possible without shirking their duties), for this meant that she would be forced by the rules of etiquette to converse with him, but she then recalled that Eragon wasn't human. Not entirely. And that he generally provided interesting fodder for discussion. But most unusually for him, the man didn't seem to be paying any attention at all to the world around him, and neither noticed nor hailed her as she approached. Instead, he was staring intensely at a slim grey palette that he held in his hands with (Arya had to admit) a rather adorable expression of concentration on his face that drew his arched eyebrows together and crinkled his straight nose.

Striding past the other elves towards her friend, she stood awkwardly for a moment a few paces away from the rider and his dragon, unsure of whether or not to approach the pair. But Saphira, ever vigilant, resolved this quandary and rumbled, deep in her chest, her greetings. Eragon's head jerked up with elven speed as he was startled out of his reverie, but he smiled warmly at the elf woman that he observed standing there.

"May I join you?" she asked of him uncertainly, suddenly feeling as if she had interrupted something both private and important.

Patting the ground beside where he sat, cross-legged, he answered, "Of course. It would be an honor, Shadeslayer Arya."

Tentatively, she settled herself down on the dusty earth where he had indicated, noticing with quick eyes the small piles of similar grey slabs stacked neatly by a lounging Saphira's side. "Fairths." She noted softly as she recognized their unique shape and texture, surprised. "You are creating fairths."

"Indeed I am." Said the rider passively. "I decided that there would be no better time to preserve the memories of when I was younger than now, while I still cling to my youth and they are fresh in my head. It would be a tragedy to me should I forget them."

Arya nodded thoughtfully. This made sense to her. "May I see one?" she queried, unable to keep her curiosity from permeating her voice, her emerald eyes bright and sparkling.

Eragon laughed, tossing his caramel head back as he chortled, "As long as you promise not to smash them! I worked rather hard on them you know!"

"Eragon!" Arya protested as she felt her pale cheeks and the tips of her ears redden spectacularly as the man referenced the rather embarrassing memory of one of the few times, if not the solitary incident, that she had completely lost her temper in front of him. She was shocked (and a bit ashamed) that he would bring the subject up at all.

Both him and Saphira chuckling at Arya's obvious discomfort, Eragon placed the fairth into her lap. Arya gazed at it curiously, embarrassment momentarily forgotten. It depicted a pair of people unfamiliar to Arya. They were human and middle-aged, sitting together at a simple wooden table inside of a tiny house, their faces illuminated by soft candlelight. Laughing and holding hands, it was clear to her that they loved each other dearly, and that they were unaware of their observer. "Who are they?" Arya breathed, soaking in every detail of the image with appreciation. Eragon had done a marvelous job.

"My Uncle Garrow and Aunt Marian." He replied, also looking at the fairth. But his expression was tinged with sadness. "She died not two years after what you see there, and he when the Ra'zac arrived in search of Saphira's egg."

"I'm sorry." Arya said humbly, handing the picture back to him gingerly. Seeing his family captured in the still image... somehow made the man more real to her.

Eragon shrugged. "There was nothing to be done to prevent it." His words were designed to sound strong, but his voice quavered ever so slightly. Seeming uncomfortable as silence ensued, the rider cleared his throat and said quickly, "Here. These two might interest you." He pulled from his pile two of the slates and gave them to her, and the elf studied them eagerly. The first was a scene within an unfamiliar forest. It would have been quite a beautiful place were it not burning and smoldering, nearby plant life being charred and withered. But within the blight of the black was an unquestionably gorgeous object that Arya immediately recognized. Saphira's egg.

In answer to her questioning look, Eragon emphasized, "The scene of where Saphira's egg first appeared to me."

Turning back to the second fairth in an effort to preclude any thought of where she had been in the moments after she had sent away the egg, Arya examined it closely. In this fairth too, Saphira starred, but she was extremely tiny, as if she had only just hatched. The blue infant dragon was perched gracefully atop of a bedpost, and was obviously transfixed by the scene framed by the tiny window of the small room, which was a brilliant sunrise. But as brilliant as that sunrise was, it was clear that Eragon, the creator of the fairth, found the sight of the young dragon in its raptures of learning far more beautiful. And so she was.

"Remarkable." Arya breathed, running her sensitive fingertips over the surface of the image with something approaching reverence.

Eragon did not bother to disguise his pleasure at this exclamation, and lost no time in allowing the elf woman to appreciate his other memories. There was a picturesque view of the village Carvahall as seen from the top of a nearby cliff housing a magnificent waterfall. Another was the image of Brom sitting sagely atop of a log. This fairth was different then the others, and upon asking, Arya discovered that this was Saphira's memory, not Eragon's. But it was important to him because in this memory, Brom was addressing Eragon as his son, and not a mere companion. (She pitied the rider in this respect; he had never been able to know the man as his father, and those few vague memories Arya retained of her father were among the most highly valued by her.)

Also present were fairths of Oromis and Glaedr, both separately and together, as well as of Roran and Katrina on their wedding day, a very young Roran helping his mother tend to a small flower garden, and (she approached this one with apprehension) one that included Arya herself. In the fairth, which was clearly a scene from the forest of Du Weldenvarden, there were other elves as well, whom she recognized as Lifean and Nari. They appeared physically mortified, but Arya was unlike them in that she appeared to be doubled over in laughter, her pristine features eased of worried lines, as mirth possessed her. In the sky, the elf could just make out the outline of Saphira through the streaming sunlight; her talons tangled in what could only be a multitude of travelling packs.

Arya smiled slightly as she remembered the reason for her laughter. Saphira had offered to carry their packs to ease their burden. Lifean and Nari had vehemently refused to allow any such thing, so the dragon had simply caught the packs up in her claws and taken off, calling back "Catch me if you can!" Arya had found this to be quite amusing.

"That was the first time I had ever heard you laugh." Eragon commented, causing the elf to jump in surprise as his voice shattered her musings.

But once she had processed his words, she really couldn't quite think of what to say in response to them. So she merely handed the fairth back to him without saying anything at all, her skin briefly brushing his as she did so. Again, she noted how warm he seemed, but did not comment beyond a heartfelt, "Thank you, for sharing what you have created with me."

"And thank you for enduring the tedium!" Eragon joked with her.

Arya tilted her head to one side and considered him with an unfathomable expression lingering on her porcelain features, intrigued. "You are an interesting person, Eragon." She told him, slanted eyes processing his entire face and committing it to memory, "The more answers to the questions concerning you I discover, the more curiosities are unearthed. No one in all of Alagaesia is quite like you, and I'm grateful I am acquainted with the one."

"I'm glad that I have the privilege to know you too, Arya." Eragon murmured seriously, his light brown hair blown across his warm eyes as a sudden, gentle breeze kissed his face.

Smiling at him, Arya received a smile in return. The two of them then settled into a companionable quiet, each leaning into the other's shoulder while Saphira hummed softly in the background. The morning air was fresh and cool and the sun shone merrily upon their heads as the sound of their musical voices rose into the morning, occasionally beaded with bright bursts of tinkling laughter or a dragon-noise of Saphira's. For the first time in months, Arya felt entirely and perfectly content.

Who loves me for this amazing Eragon moment?

But before I make my hilarious replies to my awesome readers, there are a few people who I would really like to thank for their support and general awesomeness.
1) Dancing Trees
2) DarknessBecomesMe
3) PeanutButterCup526
4) Sarcasm. Is. Me. 17
5) Yellow Mouse
6) (Hasn't named me as a favorite author but has stuck with me since I first started, and deserves to be on this list with the others) Inkweaverabc
I love you guys, as well as those who added me to their author alert lists but that I ran out of room to name (next chapter, I promise)! Thank you, times one million! Vanilla-chip cookies for all!

Replying to Korkman2...
Well, I AM fond of gore and violence, but this story is about Arya, who is an elf. Generally, they are pacifists, unless enraged. But never fear, a whole TROOP of enraged elves will be attacking Belatona soon! :)

Replying to FlexManSteel...
As you've probably noticed, Roran isn't the brightest bulb. He's got the brawns in the family, and just enough brains to make that brawn effective. He's not super-concerned about who's friends with who, because he knows that Eragon's in pain, and his first instinct is to defend him. (Yes. Snap. I still gots this!) Cake?

Replying to nikki8...
Happy? (I am!) Yell at me if I chicken out again, ok?

Replying to Pie In The Face...
Ohmygawd... I can't decide if that was mind-numbing or overstimulating... If you'll excuse me for a moment... *Takes out ruler and makes a series of perfect squares to calm OCD tendancies* I'm good... Now I can LOL and ROTGL! *laughsnortlaugh* That SO made my day! You deserve a pie... in da face! (REALLY bad pun)
Btw... did you know that my actual real-life nickname is Pie Girl? It started out as Cutie-Pie because I was an f-ing adorable child, but then just became Pie Girl and then Pie. Everyone in my family calls me that except my uncle who calls me 3.14... but he's a chemist and a bit of a nerd, and 3.14 is WAY better than what he calls his son, which is Mole. (The gross lump on you skin kind of mole.) Lol my life is so weird...

Replying to DarknessBecomesMe...
I'm not really familiar with the guy they cast as Gale, but the one for Peeta I think will do really well. I like him mucho, and even grudgingly admit that they made a logical choice in their Katniss pick. And yes, you do get cake. Double cake in fact seeing as you left two reviews... HEREYAGO! :)

Replying to Inkweaverabc...
She CAN come on a bit strong, but I think that's why we love Pie so very, very much! Heehee! As for Arya's immaturity, I have got to have SOME fun now, don't I? And I agree, that sentence was weird. In short, it means Roran knows Eragon better than both of them, and that Arya is a comparative whimp. Thanks for reviewing!

Replying to Katherine...
Good, I was worried that something had happened to Phillip the Dream Mailman!

Replying to Sarcasm. Is. Me. 17...
OhmyjezzusIcompletelyspaced! You are SO right Nasuada WOULDN'T do that! *runs around bedroom in distress* And just when I thought I was in the clear, I messed up! Grrrrrr... And no, I don't even know if Nasuada knows in the real book or not. Drat. I just thought "Islanzadi = Arya's mom hooray!" *bangs head against desk in self directed anger*

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