This chapter is dedicated to the 150th reviewer, Inkweaverabc. You should all know her, I think, because she has reviewed every single chapter of this story! *worships* She is utterly fantastic, and you should all go check out her stories and beg her to read yours, because she leaves great feedback in her reviews. All of you, go to England THIS INSTANT and join in on the massive group hug that is starting... NOW! And bring snacks!
Thank goodness I'm back to where I have internet access! Four days people! Four! *shudders* But, I was at Disneyland, so that made the agony slightly more bearable. Ah... The wonderful feeling of getting off of a bus full of cranky teenagers...
My betas have had a few issues, so this chapter is all me, just so y'all know.
Also, this chapter is highly angst-y and emotionally philosophical for no apparent reason. I think I was feeling hormonal when I was writing it. (Isn't being 15 wonderful?) But I do like it, so please understand my random words! *winks*
I would like to apologize to anyone who thought that Thorn's changing was cheesy or too hasty. It's just that his character is never explored in the books, and I'm not a fan of his being crazy. In fact, I like to think of him as a gentle giant. As you all know, your personality is never fully developed until your childhood ends and you reach full (or even partial) maturity, and I suppose that I just assumed since Thorn is really just a great big baby, his growing up would cause personality fluxuations that would result in true name instability. When he lost his anger, it wasn't really hard to conceive that his true name would change also. Hence, it did. Again, I'm sorry for those of you who didn't see this logic, and I promise that Murtagh will prove to be a bigger challenge, but I'm leaving Thorn as a mellow dude who is a bit whimsical in personality in contrast to Murtagh's overall... intensity. Can you forgive me?
Beware the angst below! :P
One by one, Gleadr, Saphira, Eragon, and Arya entered the fragile sanctuaries that the Eldunari had created for themselves and attempted to soothe the panicked creatures with kind words, assurances, and memories of their recent victory over Murtagh. And one by one, the dragons came to believe them.
But Arya loathed the experience. Never had she imagined that she would witness so great and powerful a being as a dragon seem so… broken. When speaking to them, the elf woman was faced with looking into their dead eyes that could barely process the idea placed before them. In a rather unexpected (and if she were to be perfectly honest with herself, strangely foreign) bout of maternal instincts, Arya felt the sudden and pressing desire to run to the tortured souls and comfort them. It wouldn't matter how she were to go about it, but the riderless dragons seemed so beyond the point of mortal agony that she couldn't keep it from affecting her. Compared to the violation that the Hearts had experienced over the past hundred years at the whims of Galbatorix, as well as the torment and loss, her horrific months in Durza's hands were easier by half. And this is what disturbed her.
As the four beings exited the mind of the final Eldunari, they found themselves confronted by Thorn's miserable query, "Well? How'd it go?"
It was Eragon who responded, as Arya could not. "Honestly? Just as I suspected it might." The paused and considered a moment, before continuing. "Perhaps better." He amended. "Not one of them has gone mad. They are a resilient group, simply world-weary and a bit traumatized, and they have agreed to assist us should we face Galbatorix. In the meantime, they have begged of us rest." Sighing, the man placed a hand on an unusually still Saphira. "Frankly, I'm shocked that they are still able to function, much less willing to fight."
Thorn shook his head sadly. In a mournful voice, he said, "Their agony does not surprise me. It is a favorite pastime of the Black King to tear through the minds of his servants and discover their pains and fears. Should he be in a particularly foul mood, he… familiarizes us with them." A shudder racked his mighty frame. "But I am proud to say that my rider never abused them in any such manner. He used their strength, and that is all."
Nodding appreciatively, Eragon stirred himself and began to gently pack the glowing Eldunari back into the saddlebags, away from the curious eyes of their distant guards. (They had been ordered well out of earshot, but they still retained use of their eyes.) Arya, feeling badly that he was doing all of the work, joined him in his task. But she soon found that her hands were shaking.
She stared at the traitor limbs in mild shock. Rarely did her body betray her in such a way, but the delicate tremors did not cease when she willed them to. Noting this, Eragon, with his expressive eyes, gazed at her concernedly. "Arya…" he hesitated, "Are you all right?"
Closing her eyes, the elf woman did not immediately answer, as she did not know how. But even beneath her lids, her traitor eyes still saw the seven dragons cowering away from her presence. They still registered their quaking, and her traitor ears still heard their piteous cries of terror. Bleakly, she recalled that while in captivity, even though she had never outwardly done the same, her inner self had. The noise of boots on the other side of her door had sent her heart into a frenzy of pounding as her spirit quailed away from the pain she knew was to follow. How could she admit to Eragon that beneath all of her courage was a person just as destroyed as the dragons were? How could she admit that to anyone? She had come close: terrifyingly close to doing so when travelling alone with Eragon on the return trip from Helgrind, not so many months ago. Perhaps this was why she felt an aversion to doing so a second time. She was not a weakling. Far from it. But she feared that Eragon would believe her to be one were she to admit to her fragile state of mind a second time, and this was something that her pride could not allow.
"I'm fine. Just… a bit saddened." Arya succeeded in eradicating the feeble tone from her voice, but Eragon did not seem entirely convinced. He shot her one long, suspicious look before apparently determining it was not worth the trouble to pursue the subject. (And he was probably right.)
Liar. Arya thought savagely to herself, I am a liar. A liar and a bit of a coward.
No one said a single word aloud again as they gathered everything of use from the ground and both Eragon and Arya set about healing Thorn. Darkness was falling, and the mood, which should have been jovial, was marred by the grim thoughts of everyone in the vicinity. But misery loves company, and not one of them really wanted to part towards their separate ways, and so they remained on the scuffed patch of ground, engaging in trivial discussion. To each of them, the presence of the others was comforting, especially for Thorn, who was now deprived of a Rider to share his feelings with.
As Arya studied the massive crimson dragon, her thoughts wandered a bit. Thorn was built much differently than Saphira. He was burly as dragons went, and was covered in a layer of clearly defined muscles that rippled as he moved. Across his body roamed scars, testaments to the occasions when Shruikan had become displeased with his rambunctious, hatchling-like behavior. But his bright eyes were evidence to the fact that, despite his relatively young age, Thorn had shed his childhood long ago. The dragon had done and seen things that no youngster should ever have to be exposed to, and it had aged him prematurely. Ancient in his thoughts, these experiences would haunt him for the duration of his life, be it short or eternity. Almost subconsciously, Arya's eyes flitted to Eragon's, and she was startled by the concept that perhaps this applied to him too.
But the elven princess also noted something that would escape the notice of any being devoid of female intuition. What she noticed was the fact that while Saphira was toeing the line of polite behavior when interacting with Thorn, nothing in her actions expressed the inner workings of the dragon. She had walled herself away from her former enemy and new ally deliberately, and Arya had a sneaking suspicion of the reason. "Saphira…" she murmured, curiosity overcoming manners, "What are you thinking about?"
The dragon started. "A more appropriate question would be what are you talking about? Why the sudden interest?" Her words were surprisingly bitter.
"My apologies for my lack of transparency," Arya sniffed, frowning slightly, but then continued with genuine friendliness that the dragon would have to be an imbecile to miss, "But I simply couldn't help but notice that you are acting strangely towards Thorn, and I merely wondered what you were thinking of."
The dragon snorted, ignoring the fact that both of the males in the group had stopped talking and were staring at Saphira and Arya, obviously aware of their silent conversation. "What did you think I was thinking of?" she demanded, irritated, "Certainly you of all people are aware that the dragon to my left is only the second other member of my species that I have ever seen, much less conversed with! I am wary, as until recently he was my enemy. I am wary, because I am unsure of how to behave towards him, and I do not know if we will ever be able to get along, much less coexist."
"Well why don't you ask him?" Arya responded cheekily, "Do you not think he is wondering the same? And on top of that, he, being male, is most likely also considering the fact that you are a highly attractive dragoness."
The elf's words were greeted with silence. But her steady emerald gaze did not waver until Saphira responded in a very, very small voice, "Do you think that he would be a suitable mate, Arya? Does he even think me beautiful? Can we even learn to get along? There are so many things to consider, and I haven't the slightest idea where to begin."
Expression becoming so soft that she noticed at the edge of her vision Eragon's eyes widen a fraction, Arya told Saphira in a tone of soothing velvet, "Then begins with the simplest thing of all. Thorn is weary, has changed his true name, lost a battle, and relinquished his rider all in the last few hours. He needs a friend right now, so be one. Bring him to the kitchens and request for him something to eat. Many of the Varden will most likely take it into their heads to deal 'justice', so watch over him. Comfort him when he is in pain for Murtagh, and lend him companionship when no one else will. With your acceptance of him, the vast majority of the Varden will too. And being friends, perhaps one day you two will become something more. Do not underestimate the power of friendship Saphira, because sometimes that can mean much more than any mate ever could."
The dragon blinked, stilling herself, then rose to her feet. "I shall do as you suggest, wise one." She declared with the dragon equivalent of a smile.
"I am simply grateful I could be of help."
Saphira nodded, and then announced aloud to the entire group. "Well I, for one, am tired. I think I shall go to the kitchens and request one of their soft-flesh-food creatures, as it is much too late to go hunting. Then I shall sleep. Thorn…" she looked at him in a decievingly offhand manner, "you are welcome to join me. I shall share my meal with you, and there is a wonderful hill topped by flat rocks nearby, which should still hold the heat from the sun. If you would also enjoy resting, this is where I shall be." The dragon paused for a fraction of a second, exchanging something with Eragon, gave Thorn a kind glance, and then took off.
Thorn, appearing rather awestruck, immediately followed.
Smiling slightly, Arya shook her head. Well, there's one dragon I shall never need to worry about again. She laughed softly to herself, She's a social natural if I've ever seen one! Aloud, the green-eyed elf sighed to Eragon, the only one remaining of the group, "The moon rises. We should go."
"Aye." He agreed rather glumly, heaving himself to his feet and pacing to her side.
Arya shot him an odd look. "What is it?" she asked of him as they slowly meandered back towards the Varden.
A wry laugh escaped the man's lips and his warm eyes danced as he proclaimed, "This was not how today was supposed to go."
Tilting her head to one side, Arya considered the rider. Curiosity and a hint of laughter colored her voice as she wondered aloud, "Well, seeing as today was wrong, how was it supposed to behave?"
"Much more peaceably." Eragon admitted, "You and I were to have a thoroughly calming and tranquil experience that merely involved such things as writing letters to other elves, nothing whatsoever to do with battling my brother and his dragon."
"I see." The pair halted at the entrance to Arya's tent. For the life of her, she could not fathom how they had arrived there so quickly. But she ignored her confusion and instead gave Eragon a playful shove. "Well today can't be helped. And after its events, I find I am rather exhausted." She smiled weakly at him. "Perhaps tomorrow, Shadeslayer."
The man laughed softly and shook his head at her. "Tomorrow it is then. Good night Arya."
"Good night." And as soon as these words had escaped her carved lips, Eragon had gone.
X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X
Arya was dreaming. She knew this was so, but she simply couldn't shake the feeling of complete and total reality. Perhaps this was because she was reliving a memory.
Beneath her, the muscles of the proud, pure white stallion rose and fell like the waves of the ocean on the powdered sand shore. The wind was at her back, and, for a moment, she felt invincible. And, as the daughter of the ruling monarch of the forest that whipped past beneath the flying feet of her steed, she had every right to feel so. It was the most beautiful of evenings, and the pale face of the moon shone brightly overhead, its crystal light falling like insubstantial tears through the canopy of trees, illuminating the strong, regal back of the person riding just ahead of her.
His tunic was simple, just as his entire ensemble was, but that did not detract from his beauty. Rather, it added to it. It proved to Arya that her mate was not one to give in to vanity, or be so affected by the opinions of his peers that he sought constantly to impress them. Faolin was contented by the fact that he was he, and more importantly, that she was she. Arya knew that, to him, she would always be beautiful. Her beauty was not dependant on her status, or her relationship with her mother, the Queen. It was by just simply being that made her as she was to him, and it was why she loved him.
Suddenly, through the deceiving peace of the starry night, there was a whistle of displaced air, and an arrow sprouted from Faolin's shoulder. An involuntary scream tore itself from him as another found its mark.
Arya was screaming as well. She longed to leap from her mount and run to him, but the object in her lap made her unable to do so. Smooth and perfect, the sapphire dragon egg was innocent, and under no circumstances could be allowed to be captured by… Arya sniffed the air. Urgals.
Yet another arrow found Faolin's unprotected body, and Arya knew he was lost. Urging her steed forwards in a surge of power, Arya raced onwards through her tears. But as she felt the horse's step falter as it too fell victim to arrows, she couldn't resist one final glance at her dying love's face as she toppled from its back.
But that dying, agonized face did not belong to Faolin, or Glenwing for that matter. It belonged to Eragon.
With a muffled scream, Arya jerked herself awake. Sweat beaded her body as the maniacal laughter of a shade rang briefly through her head before that too, dissipated. Her breathing was still ragged as, after a span of only a few moments, an urgent knock sounded on the frame of her tent. Then, without waiting for an answer to her knock, a female elf that Arya did not know sprang into the tent, sword drawn.
Arya stared at her.
Suddenly sensing that there was no immediate danger, the elf slowly returned her sword to its sheath. To her credit, she did seem faintly embarrassed. "My apologies, Arya Drottningu." She muttered, "I assumed that you were in danger."
Putting her head into her hands, Arya answered wearily, "No, it is I who should apologize. It was my nightmare that disturbed you from…" she hesitated, unsure of exactly what the elf had been doing outside of her tent.
"Guard duty."
Arya raised an eyebrow.
"You didn't know?" the elf asked in surprise.
Suspicion edged Arya's voice as she prompted, "Know what?"
Clearly confused, the other elf woman frowned, "Your mother assigned myself and two others to attend exclusively to your safety, Arya Drottningu, when you are apart from the rider Eragon's guards. Did she not inform you that you would be under guard?"
Arya sighed. "She did not."
Her mother was honestly going to be the death of her.
Angsty AND a suspenseful ending! How awesome am I? Lol...
Before I reply to my wonderful reviewers, I think some thanks are LONG overdue. So a huge round of applause to all of these people right here.
Akira Fudo12. angel's lil devil angel. Arya Islanzadisdaughter. BlackQueen92. bob the builder of stuff. Bookbelle.314. chaSing b0b. coolkitty154. DarknessBecomesMe. dsauer. Durxa. Elvandiath. Eragontheone. Flexmansteel. Friendsforlife11. Hannah Snow. Inkweaverabc. Korkman2. M3ment0Mori. melandu95. Mumf. MyLifeMyRules. NinaRutter. Oracle for Madness. Peanutbuttercup526. Pie in the Face. SarcasmIsMe.17. TheOnlyMarouderette. Twistz of Doom. Yellow Mouse.
All 30 of these fabulous people have favorite-ed I Am Arya, so they deserve a giant cookie with vibrant purple frosting and sprinkles!
Replying to MyLifeMyRules...
I hugged as many as I could find! *hugs* There you go. You have now second-handedly hugged them too! :)
Replying to RestrainedFreedom...
It won't get explained until a little later, so I'll help you out now. Murtagh is an angry person. Remember, he never wanted to destroy the Empire, which he believes the Varden is out to do. He really doesn't like them. All he ever really wanted is to live in peace, but now Thorn has enlisted them in the fight against everyone he grew up with, and he is a bit irked. Not to mention, he has a few insecurities concerning a certain parent that he is convinced he may never overcome. And who likes to lose? He doesn't believe he can be helped, and most likely he is a little wacky after spending so much quality time with dear Galby. Does that make more sense? I promise it does but just PM me if it still bugs you.
Replying to chaSing b0b...
Lol exactly! It's like the Shakespearian plays, where the actors think aloud to themselves. But also, if you don't recall, Oromis and Gleadr had to speak aloud when they faught Murtagh and Thorn, for fear of letting them into their minds. But mainly, the drama must happen aloud so everyone can watch with open mouths! *winks* I enjoy your groovy pen name.
Replying to Inkweaverabc...
Congrats on being 150! Also, yes. I am a bit of a sucker for Mursuada. Just something I'm going to play with!
Replying to Black Dawn...
Not a huge one, even though my family is pretty hard core about it. If it was in one of the movies, then I was unaware of it. It just seemed like a very wise, mentor-like thing to say. I was pretty proud of it! *chuckles warmly like an old man*
Replying to Melanmel10...
Aw... *blushes* Thank you! I'll look you up! (And my mom moniters as well. I have no idea what she'll say when I finally get to some EXA. Hopefully she won't read it, because that might be awkward...) Have a happy day!
Replying to SarcasmIsMe.17...
200! YES! One day...
Every time you don't review, Arya rejects Eragon again. Help him. Please.