Hi again everyone!
First of all, sorry about my last chapter and thanks so much for the reviews! I was afraid I had lost the inspiration when I tried to write ch 10,, but now it has returned again!
So here is chapter 11. Maybe the title doesn't really fit, but I sort of decided it before I wrote the chapter ...
Chapter 11: Down the river and further on
Their stay in Tarnag became short, but full of apprehension. The news of Az Sweldn rak Anhûin's actions had passed around the entire city faster than Arya thought was possible, and soon all the dwarves seemed to be choosing sides. It was almost as if this was an open clan war, a thought which Arya knew Orik and Ûndin shared.
When they finally were ready to leave the city, the outrage among the dwarves had reached a peak. Stones were being thrown through the air, and Arya could see a cloud of
smoke rising in the distance. The shouts from the angry crowd could be heard clearly, as they drifted through the still air. If this went on for long, Arya realized, it would be hard for them to get away.
She caught sight of Eragon, sitting next to Saphira on the other side of the courtyard, and went over to sit beside him. He had spent the morning in Celbedeil together with Gannel, but his thoughts seemed not to be lingering on that visit now. Arya could not help feeling pleased at this. Educating the new Rider in the dwarvish religion was all very well, she thought. But still, she was glad that she'd been able to escort him away from the cathedral.
Looking around the courtyard for a topic of some kind, Arya said after a while:
"The dwarves fear that the crowd will make it difficult for us to leave."
"Saphira can always fly us out", said Eragon, seemingly convinced that his idea would work perfectly well.
"Snowfire as well?" Arya said, trying to be as gentle as she could when pointing out the flaws in his plan. "And Ûndin's guards? No, if we are prevented, we shall have to wait for the dwarve's outrage to subside."
Eragon sighed, then said:
"I wish now I had not accepted Hrothgar's offer."
"Oh yes!" Arya said. "I think, however, that you made the only viable choice. You are not to blame. The fault if any lies with Hrothgar, for making the offer in the first place."
They were silent. Arya raised her eyes to watch the swiftly darkening sky, wishing she was up there, flying with Saphira and Eragon.
After a while, Eragon asked the question Arya knew would come, sooner or later:
"Do you have any family in Du Weldenvarden?"
Arya hesitated, before giving him the first anser that occurred to her:
"None that I am close to."
He looked at her with surprised etched upon his face, and she felt that perhaps this had not been the wisest thing she could say.
"Why ... why is that?" Eragon asked in a somewhat hesitant tone, as if he was unsure whether or not she would answer.
"They disliked my choice to become the queen's ambassador", said Arya, thinking that she could tell him this at least. "It seemed inappropriate. When I ignored their objections and still had the Yawë tattooed on my shoulder, which indicates that I have devoted myself to the greater good of my race, my family refused to see me again."
"But that was over seventy years ago!" Eragon protested firmly.
Arya looked away, refusing to answer. Nor could she find anything else to tell him.
Talking about her family like this was still painful, but she had learnt by now to push away that feeling when she knew it was not needed. Eragon was not the first to ask her questions like these, but he was certainly one of the few humans who asked them out of concern, more than curiosity.
"Are there any other elves outside of Du Weldenvarden?" Eragon asked, before the pause in their conversation became awkwardly long.
"Three of us were sent forth from ellesméra", Arya told him, keeping her face hidden behind a veil of hair, so as to avoid meeting his eyes. "Fäolin and Glenwing always travelled with me when we transported Saphira's egg between Du Weldenvarden and Tronjheim. Only I survived Durza's ambush."
"What were they like?" Eragon asked.
Arya explained as much as she could about Glenwing, while fighting back the memories that were woken within her with every word she spoke. But when Eragon asked about Fäolin, she was silent. She could simply not think of anything to say that was not too emotional, even though she knew there were such things.
Arya was unsure whether or not Eragon understood her feelings, but he seemed to sense that he had better change the subject. Slowly, he said:
"Why do you dislike Gannel so much?"
His attempt to keep their conversation going was obvious, and Arya turned to look at him directly. As she did so, a wave of unexpected warmth flowed up inside her. It lasted only for a couple of secons, but during that time, she found her hand reaching out, almost against her will, to touch Eragon's cheek.
"That is a discussion for another time", Arya said, before withdrawing her hand and standing up, to walk slowly away across the courtyard.
When she glanced over her shoulder, she saw Eragon leaning back against Saphira's right foreleg, the surprise and confusion visible in his face.
And, as Arya stopped next to a group of dwarves, she realized how completely unknowing she had been of what she was doing, until it was too late to prevent the action. But even if she had been able to stop herself, she had an odd feeling that she would not have done so.
Hours later, Arya, Eragon, Saphira, Orik and their seven dwarven guards could finally, to Arya's immense relief, leave the city of Tarnag behind them. It had not been as difficult for them to get away as some of the dwarves had feared, but the very atmosphere in the city had done nothing but make them all irritated and restless. So Arya was glad when they were moving again.
They continued the journey down Az Ragni on rafts. It was a calm and pleasant way to travel, with only the splashing of water, the creaking of wood and ropes and the occasional murmering of voices to be heard. Arya spent most of the day sitting on the edge of the raft, watching the mountains glide past on both sides, letting all she heard and saw calm her. However, she could not avoid noticing how Ûndin's guards kept throwing her furtive glances, when they thought she was not looking. And she thought she knew their reason too.
The anxiety and the distress Arya had experienced in Tarnag had made her break her silent promise not to argue with any of the preasts from Celbedeil. It had been when she came to escort Eragon back from the cathedral, and Gannel had, while smiling in his innocent way, explained why it was so important that eragon understood the religion of the dwarves. It had not, of course, been Arya's intention to lose her temper like she had done, but she had, once again, been unable to hold her angry words back. The only good thing she could say about their discussion now was that it had been short. What she did not understand, however, was how the news of it had managed to reach the other dwarves so quickly. It might, of course, have something to do with the fact that Gannel was no ordinary preast, but a clan chief as well, which also made Arya's outbreak towards him feel even worse to think about.
No, Arya told herself, shaking her head, as if that would push all her thoughts aside. Now when we have left Tarnag far behind us, I shall not think about it. I have enough trouble without going through all my arguments with Gannel over and over again.
Darkness soon descended over them, causing the dwarves to light several of the red lanterns they had brought with them. Arya and Eragon were standing side by side on the raft, watching all that was going on around them, but paying no particular attention to any of it.
After a few minutes, Eragon asked, pointing at the lanterns:
"Do you know how these are made?"
"It is a spell that we gave the dwarves long ago", Arya replied, turning her eyes up towards the light of the nearest Erisdar.
Eragon suddenly looked at her directly, with a thoughtful expression that was very similar to how several younger elves looked.
"Could you teach me more magic?" he asked.
Almost wishing she could give him a different answer, Arya said:
"It is not my place. A teacher is waiting for you."
"Then tell me this at least. What does the name of my sword mean?"
"Misery is your sword", she answered without hesitation, surprised that no one had told him this before. "And so it was until you wielded it."
Eragon looked at his sword, clearly uncomfortable. It cannot be a pleasant experience to suddenly learn that the name of your weapon is Misery, thought arya. But she could find no comforting words to say.
Meanwhile, Saphira had landed in the water, a short distance away from their raft, her eyes falling at once upon Eragon and arya. Eragon slipped down into the water immediately, swam out to Saphira and climbed onto her back. Arya watched from the raft as Saphira rose from the water and then flew swiftly up towards the setting sun. She had been intending to tell Eragon that it was not a good idea to fly around now. Especially not at night. But her words were lost as she saw how much both dragon and Rider enjoyed their flight.
The three figures came rising up from the distant Beor Mountains just as Eragon and Saphira stopped in mid-air above the ship, and Arya recognized them at once for Fanghur. They were smaller than Saphira, but when three of them came at once like this, she knew that it would not be the easiest thing in the world for Saphira to beat them.
Together with the dwarves, Arya watched, half in alarm, half in amazement, as Saphira darted between, below and above the three Fanghur, slashing at them and making them retreat. If the shimmering, blue dragon meant to kill the creatures attacking her, it was hard to tell. Arya wanted to cry out to Saphira and Eragon not to do that, because Fanghur were rare enough already. But she knew that if the creatures had already attacked the minds of both Eragon and Saphira, which she reckoned they had, not even mental words would be able to reach them.
The struggle became short, but intense, and the final result was a clear victory for Saphira, as the three Fanghur fled back the way they had come. Eragon's triumph was clear as he swam back to the raft, but so was his tiredness as well. Arya knew that in Brom's opinion, this fight had been a sheer waste of strength. However, she herself could not help appreciating what she had just witnessed, and she wondered if this was how it looked when two wild dragons met in a battle. Well, probably, she would never be able to find out.
"Are you hurt?" asked Orik as he helped Eragon back onto the raft.
"No", said Eragon, still beaming. "Were they another race unique to the Beors?"
"We call them Fanghur", said Orik.
Then, he explained about the creatures, and about how they used their minds to immobilize their prey when they hunted. This seemed to particularly interest Saphira, and Arya knew her well enough by now to suspect that she was probably intending to test this herself.
Walking to the edge of the raft, Arya said:
"I'm glad you did not kill them. Fanghur are so rare, that those three would have been sorely missed."
"They still manage to eat enough of our herds", called one of the dwarves, as he came out of the cabin and glanced irritably up at the sky. "Do not fly any more while we are in the Beors, Shadeslayer! It's difficult enough to keep you alive as it is."
"We'll stay on the ground until we reach the plain", Eragon promised, although he seemed not to like the idea very much.
They stopped soon afterwards, and the dwarves moored the rafts to some aspens growing along the river, before starting to make themselves ready for the night. When they were finished and had eaten their meal, Arya stood at the edge of their camp to keep watch. The day had given her much to think about, and she knew there was still so much to come. She had not had time to think much about where they were going. But now, in the silence and darkness of the night, the questions began to return to her. What was going to happen once she reached Ellesméra? What would happen between her and her mother? Would she be accepted into Ellesméra again after having been banished from the queen's presence for seventy years? And, finally, how would the news of her position affect Eragon and Saphira? She had wondered it before, but the time when they'd reach Ellesméra had seemed too far away then to be considered. Now it was much closer than she had believed, and nervousness began to truly possess her mind.