Miantha had been enjoying the scenery, not paying the least bit of attention to Murtagh and Eragon, who had resumed their hushed conversation. As winter was fast approaching, the leaves were dropping off of all of the trees, leaving them bare. The air was cold, and there were even some red bushes at the side of the trail.

After a moment, one of her mothers' songs started playing in her head, her mother's soft alto voice ringing through the lyrics. The soft, lilting melody reminded her of butterflies and daisies, but the actual song was quite sad.

The urge to hum it was irresistible, and Miantha started to sing the song under her breath.

"'Tis the last rose of summer,
Left blooming all alone.
All her lovely companions
Are faded and gone.

No flower of her kindred
No rose..."

Then she realized that Murtagh and Eragon had stopped their conversation. Embarrassed, Miantha quit singing. Eragon looked at her oddly. "I've...heard that song before, somewhere..." he said, sounding confused.

A whisper came from her left. "I have as well. But I...my mother sang that to me." murmured Murtagh, looking as though he were a thousand miles away, in the far past. Eragon and Miantha looked around uncomfortably for a moment, then rode on in silence.

Later that evening, at the camp fire, Brom pulled her aside yet again. "I have thought over what you requested...and I agree that it is reasonable to keep your Rider-ship to yourself. Though I will have to inform Saphira, so that she does not unintentionally find your dragon and tell Eragon." Brom said.

Miantha bowed her head in respect, and after exchanging a few pleasantries, went back to the campfire. Eragon looked uncomfortable, and Murtagh looked slightly bored. "Brom, as Gil'ead is only days away from here, oughtn't we to make a plan - "

But Brom interrupted Eragon. "We haven't sparred since the attack from the Ra'zac - you need to practice first." With a sigh, Eragon went to his horse's satchel and pulled out a large blood-red sword. Murtagh gave a little gasp that was quickly smothered, but by Brom's face, he had noticed it, as well as Miantha.

Brom got out his own sword, and they said a few words over them. Miantha knew that it was magic, and apparently, so did Murtagh for he did not look even slightly intrigued. He was still staring at the red sword. Then Brom and Eragon began to spar, and it was like a beautiful, dangerous dance. Miantha couldn't help but stare - they were wonderful sword fighters, that much was obvious.

When they were done, Murtagh asked Eragon if he would like to spar, but Eragon declined. Knowing that this would demolish her reputation as a helpless female, Miantha replied "I will spar with you." Murtagh stared at her. "You can't be serious."