Eragon spent the next few days resting and talking with the barrage of people who came to visit him. They all congratulated and thanked him for his willingness to sacrifice himself and Saphira. A few people also offered condolences for the loss of his brother. Of course, that information was not widely available, and the vast majority of the Varden had no idea that he was related to Murtagh.
The one person who almost never left his side was Arya. She departed only to bathe and attend strategy meetings. Once Eragon was well enough to stand, she even stayed to perform the Rimgar with him.
He appreciated her company, but wished she would leave to sleep in her own tent. She had abandoned her chair in favor of sleeping on the floor, but nothing Eragon said could convince her that she would be more comfortable in a bed. Her own bed, that is. He didn't think she would take well the offer to share his own bed, even if all they did was sleep.
Sometimes they sat in silence and other times they talked, not about war or the horrors of the past, but about more pleasant topics. Eragon watched her constantly, memorizing her mannerisms: the way she hid behind a curtain of hair when she became uncomfortable, the faint smile she wore when she thought no one was looking, and the way she always appeared comfortable in her body.
He noticed that she seemed to crave physical contact with him, though he supposed it was the contact she needed, regardless of who was there to offer it. He and Saphira debated about whether or not it was healthy for him to increase how often he spent in physical contact with Arya. They were unsure because it was likely that he would not survive the war, meaning Arya would lose yet another person important to her. On the other hand, life is full of uncertainty regardless of whether or not there is a war.
In the end, they decided it would be best to meet her present needs. Sometimes he held her hand, other times he held her, and still others a casual touch sufficed. However, he did not attempt to kiss her again. He suspected she was far from ready for any sort of sexual relationship.
Being bedridden was an annoyance for him, but it did provide the perfect opportunity for Arya to have his nearly undivided attention. Saphira often became jealous, though she claimed to understand his feelings. Sometimes Eragon would include her in his and Arya's discussions, which seemed to allay some of her feelings of jealousy.
After a few days, Eragon managed to stay out of bed for an entire day. While magic had healed his wounds, the residual effects lingered, causing a deep ache in his chest where his lung had been punctured by his broken ribs. Saphira and Arya helped him get around for the first day, but after that, Eragon spurned their aid. He hated appearing weak, particularly in front of the Varden.
The fourth morning after Eragon was injured, he sat up in the now familiar tent, stretched, and felt no pain. Looking to the ground next to his cot, he discovered that Arya was not there; she must have woken early to bathe and change clothes. He grinned to himself as he gathered his belongings and prepared to move back to his own tent.
You are awfully pleased with yourself considering you have just woken up, Saphira noted, amused at Eragon's good mood.
Eragon did not deign to respond as he exited the tent where he had been staying only to find himself blinded by the brilliant sun reflecting off of Saphira's scales. Reflexively, he dropped his bag of clothes to cover his eyes. This only furthered Saphira's amusement with him, and caused her sides to rumble with laughter and a spurt of flame to snort out of her nose.
Not quite as entertained, Eragon picked up his pack with one hand and shielded his eyes with his other until he could adjust to the bright day. He turned on his heels and walked in the direction of his own tent, pointedly ignoring his dragon and looking forward to a bath. Before today he couldn't have managed on his own, and he wasn't quite comfortable with receiving assistance from Arya.
He threw his bag of clothes into his tent, pausing only to grab a change of clothes and to make certain that nobody had touched his belongings while he was away. When he was convinced everything was in order, he set off to a nearby stream to bathe for the first time since before the battle. He appreciated, not for the first time, that since the deaths of Murtagh and Thorn, the elven spellcasters were more willing to grant him privacy.
Arriving at the stream, he stripped and waded into the middle. It was not as deep as he would have liked, the water only coming to a few inches above his knees, but it was wet and clean, and that was what really mattered. Eragon stayed in the water long enough to scrub himself clean, but clambered out soon after because the stream was not deep or warm enough to stay in for very long.
Eragon stood beside his change of clothes for a few minutes, waiting to dry off. He felt uncomfortable standing there naked, knowing someone could happen upon him at any time, so he threw on his clothes before his body had completely dried, and sauntered back to his tent where he found Saphira and Arya sitting together. He noted that Arya had forgone her usual leather armor in favor of an elven made tunic of a deep purple, and black leggings.
"Good morning," Eragon said brightly to them both, his annoyance at Saphira for the moment, forgotten. "You look nice," this, directed to Arya.
"Good morning! I thank you. You look…clean," Arya responded, sounding confused and ill at ease with his compliment. "Nasuada sent a messenger to us saying that our presence is requested at a strategic planning meeting."
Eragon groaned inwardly at both their lack of comfort in everyday interactions and at the prospect of attending yet another meeting. "When?" he asked, trying to hide his displeasure.
He failed miserably. Arya and Saphira spared a glance of mirth with one another, both noticing his annoyance. The messenger said to come as soon as you returned, which is now, or technically a minute or so ago that was wasted on exchanging pleasantries, Saphira projected her thoughts to both of them.
Eragon rolled his eyes while Arya hid a smile. She enjoyed the interactions between the dragon and Rider. Together, they set off in the direction of the meeting. When they arrived, they discovered that the council was present and seated, and the meeting already underway. Saphira stuck her head through her usual hole, and the late arrivals exchanged glances with one another, trying not to laugh as everyone turned to look at them.
Nasuada was forced to halt the meeting to acknowledge their presence. "Saphira, Eragon, Arya, welcome. I would like to congratulate each of you on your performance in the battle. Saphira and Eragon, without you we would not have stood a chance against Murtagh and Thorn. And Arya, without you, our greatest hope would have died. I thank you," Nasuada said, gesturing for Arya and Eragon to take a seat. There was only the slightest edge to her voice that suggested she was annoyed at them for interrupting her meeting.
Eragon turned to Arya as they sat down and smirked. Arya was able to keep a straight face until hearing Saphira's contribution projected to both of them: She almost sounded sincere, little ones.
To her credit, the elf only let out a small breath of laughter. Unfortunately, this cracked the reserve of both Eragon and Saphira, forcing them to draw on the full extent of their self-control to not burst into laughter. Even so, a small giggle slipped out of Eragon, making him clap a hand over his mouth.
Only Arya and Saphira noticed, but Eragon was mortified. He could not recall ever giggling in his life. His embarrassment did wonders in sobering him up, but it had the opposite effect on the elf and dragon. Arya drew her knees up onto her chair, pressing her forehead against them, her body shaking in silent laughter. Saphira's sides began to rumble, which fortunately were outside of the tent, so while the council members heard the noise they could not identify it.
After a minute or so, Arya and Saphira managed to regain their control and began to pay attention to the meeting. Over the next several hours, the council addressed the Varden's plans for taking Uru'baen. The Varden would rest for the next week before setting off for the capital. The elves and dwarves would join meet them halfway between Dras-Leona and the Uru'baen. This heartened Eragon, as it would be the first time in centuries that the four races of Alagaesia would unite.
Nasuada's parting words struck fear and dread into Eragon, as she said amidst cheers, "We have much left to accomplish, but we have achieved much. Let us celebrate tonight that soon the tyrant king and his army will be brought down by the Varden and our dragon and her Rider!"
Everyone filed out save Eragon and Arya. Saphira withdrew her head, but stayed in mental contact with her Rider. "What is troubling you?" Arya asked. She was unsure what had been said to upset Eragon.
"I can't defeat him," Eragon whispered, his gaze on the ground. "Thorn was no match for Saphira, and surely she can outfly Shruikan, but I couldn't even beat Murtagh. I don't stand a chance against the king."
Arya thought about it, but could not truthfully say she foresaw a different outcome. "We have some time," she responded, "There must be a way, and we will find it."
Eragon appreciated her words, though they held little comfort for him. He smiled at her sadly, before rising and walking out of the tent to joint Saphira.
She is right, little one. No one is invincible. We will wake Glaedr and consult with him. He will surely not ignore us now that we truly require his aid, Saphira said, swinging her neck around to meet Eragon at his eye level.
Eragon breathed in deeply and nodded his assent. He would not give up hope as long as he still had options. From behind, he felt Arya's tentative grasp on the belt of his tunic, which he had come to understand as a sign that she needed his contact. He turned halfway, one arm encircling the elf's waist, and the other reaching to rest his hand on Saphira's snout. Holding Arya tightly to him, he laid his head on hers. So long as he had these two women, he could not be bereft of hope.
A/N: Sorry that this was a boring chapter. It was more transitional than anything else, but it needed to be written. For the next couple of chapters, I'll probably steal a bunch of stuff from Inheritance. There's no point in rewriting what Paolini did well. Plus, everything with the Rock of Kuthian and the Vault of Souls happened exactly how I thought it would, so I don't know how I could make mine different.
Magneseus knew that the title comes from The Naming by Alison Croggon. The quote actually reads, "Sometimes new life is painful: the waking limb burns."