Festivities
Eragon stood there uncertainly, a little perturbed by the restlessness of the elves. He knew them to be merry and cheerful but also impatient in the midst of celebration. Saphira blew a puff of smoke and watched it rise into the air. Eragon sighed and knew he had to do something or he would look more of a fool. He cleared his throat and the sounds of laughter and throng of voices ceased to listen to his words. Instantly Eragon felt self conscious and he felt the blood rush up to his ears. The elves waited expectantly, excitement and curiosity in their eyes.
As Eragon was about to speak, an apologetic voice called out, "Wait!"
Relief brightened Eragon's face and his shoulders relaxed visibly. He rushed to make room for Islanzadi on the dais. To his surprise, Arya emerged from the darkness also, following Islanzadi and Eragon gave her a questioning look. Arya gave him a slight nod and turned to the citizens. Eragon took that as a dismissal and, a little hurt by her indifference, returned his focus to the audience.
"Elves of Ellesmera," Islanzadi began, her voice a little breathless from the hurry. "Today you are gathered here today to witness the announcement of a miraculous discovery. It is a discovery that we have all been waiting for and a most joyous discovery it is! For our honoured rider Eragon Shadeslayer and Saphira Bjartskular have come across the next hope of Alagaesia!"
Without further ado, Islanzadi took the pouch from Eragon's outstretched hands and drew out the egg, presenting it high in the air for all to see. There was a greatly audible gasp from all the elves, a ripple of murmur travelling through the crowd. All began talking animatedly at once, pointing and shouting exclamations of joy and numerous praises for Eragon and Saphira. Many were on the verge of tears and they stared in wonder at the emerald glow of the dragon egg.
"As you can see, this dragon egg has been found and snatched from under the nose of Galbatorix himself and I will see to it that we shall all become drunk with the fever of festivities! Tonight we sleep under the stars!" said Islanzadi, her melodic voice clear in the dark of the night.
A deafening cheer erupted and all scattered to feast and dance, grabbing goblets of wine in the process. Eragon stood tall, watching in mirth and great contentment beside Saphira. He noticed that Arya stood well away from all the excitement and activity. It struck him then that she was very different from the rest of her race; quite withdrawn, straightforward, stubborn, silent and dispassionate. She was unsure of how to behave and that puzzled him.
What was Arya thinking, coming out at a time like this? Eragon commented to Saphira.
I do not know, but she must have thought she was well enough for this occasion.
She should know better.
Now you're just sounding like an overprotective husband, Saphira snorted.
At this particular retort, Eragon's face turned scarlet. He looked away from Arya. His gaze fell upon an elf maiden that was dancing merrily with her partner, both linked by arms, twirling and twisting. Eragon felt a grin forming on his face and clapped along with the other elves as the dance finished and the next set of couples came forward to dance. Throughout the celebration, Eragon drank, watched, laughed and ate, often conversing with Arya and Nari. Arya did not smile at all but made short replies and Nari joked continuously. Once, to his surprise, an elf maiden approached him and asked for a dance. Eragon choked on his salad and declined, laughing and saying dancing was not one of his good skills. The elf maiden smiled graciously and said she perfectly understood. The other younger elves smiled teasingly.
"Ah, Shadeslayer, you should have accepted her offer. She is called Jildai and is considered one of the few beauties of Ellesmera," said Althinae.
"Aye, she is, she is. A wonderful maiden, eyes of sparkling sapphire, chestnut brown hair and lips red as cherry," agreed Durin, an apprentice scholar, his eyes far away.
"You sound as if you are in love with her yourself Durin," teased Ethenel.
All three elves laughed heartily and drank heavily. Throughout this conversation, Arya had sat still, appearing not to listen and Eragon studied her from the corner of his eye, anxious that she had not said a word. Her growing silence concerned him and when he noted this to Saphira, she snorted and ignored him. This perplexed him even more and Eragon shrugged helplessly. Suddenly, Arya excused herself and began to walk away. He decided to question the elves.
He motioned for Althinae, Durin and Ethenel to lean forwards. "Is Arya Svit-Kona always like this during celebrations or feasts?"
The three elves glanced at each other. "Well," said Althinae in a low voice, "she does behave like so occasionally but not as strangely as she does today. It does worry us, but we leave her to her privacy."
Durin finished drinking his goblet of faelnirv. "Mm. A difficult one she is, our princess. Her aura demands obedience but her heart yearns for more I think. We elves are a merry race, graceful, yes, but content in excitement. Arya Drottningu is an exception."
"Still, there are many who would wish for her hand. After all, she is beautiful beyond measure and her beauty often stirs the hearts of elves."
Eragon frowned a little. Was beauty all they cared for? It could not be helped, he supposed, for the elves' greatest weakness was vanity. Eragon excused himself and followed Arya, weaving through the crowds and through the bushes and out into a clearing. He looked around nervously, for he had never been here before.
"Eragon?" Arya's throaty voice came floating out from the dark. Her pale face came into view as the moonlight caught it. "Why did you follow?"
"I-I… needed to have a word with you," Eragon stammered.
"Is that so?"
"… yes."
She stepped closer and Eragon suddenly found it hard to breathe. What was wrong with him?
"I… wanted to ask you why you came to the celebration tonight," Eragon said, putting on a serious face.
For a moment, she did not answer. Finally, to Eragon's embarrassment, she laughed.
"Oh, Eragon. You are quite silly, but yes, I suppose that would be strange in your eyes. In our culture, Eragon, we do not care much for illnesses other than very grave circumstances and my position as princess prompted me to be present. And the reason for my coming here was because I required some time away from the buzzing atmosphere."
"Oh…" Eragon muttered, still reasonably abashed at demanding her for an answer to a childish question.
It was then he realised she was still staring at him.
"Excuse me for my impertinence. I will leave you to your private time," Eragon said.
Once again, to Eragon's mortification, Arya burst out laughing. She shook her head and took his hand, leading him back to the celebration.
"But Arya… do you not need to refresh your mind? I thought-"
"I am quite well now thank you Eragon. Join in with the festivities since you have a long day ahead of you tomorrow. Oromis does not take his lessons lightly."
"Of course."
For the rest of the celebration, Eragon spent the time drinking and talking with the elves, some young, some old and some of middle age, all had much to tell him. The music changed and Eragon found himself enjoying it, as it was a favourite among the elves, slow and sad but grand and elegant: a noble dance. Arya stayed still, listening intently and her eyes far away. Many elves listened now and Islanzadi stopped her conversation with her advisor to listen also. Then Arya stood up, the side of her mouth upturned slightly into an amused smile. Laughter danced around her lips. Eragon looked up at her in question.
"Eragon Shadeslayer. Would you have this dance with me?"
Eragon felt himself go absolutely still, his head swimming with faelnirv's effect but also with shock.
He distantly heard himself saying, "Of course, Arya Svit-Kona."
Althinae, Durin and Ethenel stared at them both, sharing surprised looks with each other. Eragon offered Arya his arm and led her to the dance. Together, they started the dance, Eragon rather stiffly but Arya more gracefully and relaxed. The elves turned to gape and exchange glances, smiling a little uncertainly at the two but some frowning. The string instruments vibrated and trembled, producing passionate tones full of ardour and grace. Whatever nerves he felt in the beginning, Eragon found had gone, replaced by a comforting feeling, as if he was floating in a dream with Arya's soft hand in his, her midnight black hair brushing his cheek and her crushed pine scent lingering in his nose. Once or twice he found his eyes lost in Arya's, though he doubted she knew. When this happened, he would look away quickly, knowing he risked his image in times like those. He felt how intimately close they were and he could see every detail of her; her smooth white hands, the lines on her head where the hair parted, her long exotic eyelashes, perfectly sculpted nose and her lips… redder than cherry but not too red either. Red as a rose. Eragon felt as if he was lost in a world where there were only he and Arya, together, dancing irretrievably.
And the music stopped. Eragon hastily pulled himself together and bowed to Arya, thanking her for gracing him with this dance. A little dazedly, Eragon strode towards his table and sat himself down, downing a goblet of wine. A group of young elves surrounded him, their eyes eager for his story.
"Master Shadeslayer, how did you fare?"
"You did not step on her foot?"
"Did she really smell of crushed pine?"
"Did you feel your heart pounding frantically?"
"Did you-?"
"Stop!" Eragon commanded, his head dizzy with the questions. "One at a time my friends!"
All of them were, of course, older than Eragon by a few years but Eragon rather felt that he was the eldest of them.
"I cannot believe she asked you for a dance. 'Tis fate! You are quite blessed Shadeslayer," sighed Durin, running a hand through his silvery hair.
"Aye," agreed Ethenel.
"So, are you two mates?" asked Althinae casually.
Eragon accidentally spat out his wine. Althinae grimaced and removed the mess on his tunic with magic.
"Sorry?" Eragon asked, blinking rapidly and thinking that his ears had deceived him.
"Are you two mates?"
The elves looked to him expectantly.
"No, no!" he laughed. "You are all mistaken, she merely asked me for a dance."
"But I think you are mistaken Shadeslayer. One does not ask for a dance without purpose."
Now Eragon was growing a little annoyed. He frowned. "Enough of this, we are extremely good friends, that is all. It would be wrong of us to become more than that in these troubling times."
"Of course, Argetlam," replied Althinae, eventually understanding the message. "We were quite drunk and overexcited. Yes, we were not thinking properly. Forgive us."
Eragon waved his hand in acceptance and gulped another goblet full of wine.
Did you enjoy your dance with Arya?
Eragon jumped and whirled around.
Saphira! I didn't even hear you!
You weren't always the sharpest Eragon.
Still…
Anyway, did you?
Did I what?
Saphira snorted in exasperation. Did you enjoy your dance?
Oh…
Eragon…
Quite enjoyable, I suppose.
Quite enjoyable? Is that all you have to say? Islanzadi was watching you too rather closely.
What did you expect me to say then?
More.
Eragon grunted and returned to his food and wine.
Eragon you know what I am trying to say, pressed Saphira.
Eragon did not answer.
You must repress your feelings. You are human.
Yes, Saphira, and she is an elf princess, Eragon shot back bitterly.
She is a hundred years old, you are fifteen.
I know.
I know you know, I was just reminding you to be careful of your actions.
When Eragon did not reply, Saphira left, leaving him to his thoughts.
Eragon took a swig of faelnirv.
I must repress my feelings, he thought drowsily.
He had a fleeting vision of a swish of midnight black hair.
Eragon downed another goblet of faelnirv.
I must repress my feelings…
Another gulp sent the burning liquid flowing down his throat.
I must repress my feelings…
A heavy scent of crushed pine enveloped him and Eragon irritably fanned it away.
I must repress my feelings…
His last memory of the celebration was of the table rushing up to meet his head and elves dancing like there were no tomorrow under the gaze of the entrancing moon.
"Wyrda!" Blagden squawked.