Arya POV
Time passed on.
In the days following the arrival of Blodhgarm and the other spellcasters, things went by as normally as they could, with one exception.
Eragon.
despite his behavior towards others, it was obvious he wasn't getting better. He would make jokes, smile, and laugh, but it never reached his eyes.
They were cold, and dim. they lacked the warmth that had given people the impression of a kindred spirit, they lacked the innocence of their early days.
"Arya, are you listening?"
"Apologies, I was thinking."
Nasuada and she had been drafting orders for supplies, when the sheer idleness of the task had finally broken Arya's patience. Nasuada, however, had been dutifully minding the tasks set before her by the council, her generals, the cooks, and everyone else. Arya admired her for it. Even though it was painfully obvious that she needed sleep, Nasuada continued to attack the massive tower of paperwork each night and day.
looking closer, though, revealed darker shaded crescents under her eyes, and the eyes themselves were more bloodshot than normal. her movements were slower, and her dark hair was slightly tangled.
This brought her thoughts back to Eragon, who looked much the same.
He had started coming out of his tent again, but it was obvious he was forcing himself to do it.
Roran had spoken to him at length about it, but to no end whatsoever. Eragon had refused to come out of his shell, and he was acting increasingly melancholy as Saphira's funeral drew nearer.
They had prepared the top of the plateau where she died for her, with a deep grave, and a carved, ornate tombstone that the dwarves had spent hours carving. Orik himself had engraved the epitaph onto the pristine granite, which was short, but captured an image of the splendor of the dragons, and would hopefully remain there unto the breaking of the world;
Here Lies the Dragon Saphira
She of the Blue Scales
Daughter of Iormunger and Vervada
Bond of Eragon Shadeslayer
Daughter of the Wind
It brought to mind an awe inspiring image of the great days of the risers' power, when dragons roamed the world freely. In a way, it was the monument to the entire race of the dragons, the rest of whom never received any reminder of their loss, save in memory. but those memories had become legends now, not something to take hope or pride in, but something that people used in sayings, or gave a vague halfhearted nod to.
"Arya."
Her eyes snapped back to hers.
"What exactly is it that your thinking of? I've never seen you so distracted."
Her sullen voice replied; "ah, just the times. there's so much to be done. so much that should have been done."
Nasuada gave a sad tilt of the head, accompanied by a sigh.
"Sometimes, I hope that this is all a nightmare, and I'll wake back up in Aberon, as a little girl, with my father at my side, and no Galbatorix to hold Alageasia back."
"My Ladies, King Orrin requests to speak with you."
Nasuada rubbed her temples several times before she replied with a simple; "Send him in, then."
"He wished to talk about the campaign again, my lady."
The leader of the Varden was distinctly heard muttering, to Arya's hearing, "Joy.", and then a louder, "Please, Captain, just send him in."
"May you rest in peace, and may you rejoin your ancestors as they wait for you in the beyond, Saphira Brightscales."
There were tears at the funeral. There were many tears. more than a few lined some of those who were closer to Saphira.
Eragon's speech had been short, but it conveyed much of the sorrow that people read in his eyes, and later, he was the last to go up to the stone that marked the last resting place of the final female dragon of the most noble race in the world.
He knelt, and put a hand on the base of the stone, and ceased all movement, save for a few tremors that occasionally racked his body.
It was this, combined with all the loss that she had felt in the past year, and the loss that had troubled her for decades - Evander's death, her mother's disowning of her, and every other loss that had troubled her soul all her life. This all solidified into a single tear, which slid down her cheek, reflecting the twilight.
That was... interesting. I truly did not think that I would continue this, but I need something to do. and if anyone reads this, leave a PM or review about what you like, dislike, any advice or constructive criticism you may have, what my writing lacks, etc. and, as a personal request to you all, can someone advise me on dialogue? that is the part of writing that I know I suck at, but I want to improve.
-Darkrai6543
