Eragon watched, dismayed and disheartened, as Arya's bright mind faded into a low glow. Saphira's pain was a fraction of his own, but the agony molded into one as it rebounded across their mental link until they could no longer escape from it. Eragon's elfen vision blurred as his eyes clouded with tears. He made no attempt to hide them.

Should I fetch a healer? He thought- and even as he did so, he knew that it would be in vain. "There are some injuries we can't heal," he remembered Garrow saying one as he lead Nodra, their farm dog, into the woods to be killed after the dog had stepped on a trap. The loss had filled both Eragon and Roran with depression, but that pain had not been even half of what he felt now.

No, little one, Saphira told him gently. What Arya needs now is strength, not healers.

Then let us give her strength! He thought eagerly. Saphira, however, hesitated.

Little one… there is only so much strength we can give. Nasuada would not approve of you-

Oh, to hell with Nasuada! He snapped. She fell silent, but he recognised the wisdom in her words and begrudgingly obliged. How can we help her? He mused, knowing deep down that there must be an answer to that question… There must…

I do not know. All I know is that if we do not find a way to make her stronger soon, I fear she…

Saphira could not complete that sentence, but the meaning in her words hung as heavy and as dense as wood in the air.

Stronger… Eragon thought once more, looking at the words as though they were a riddle. We need to make her stronger…

Eragon was not the world's greatest thinker.

He knew it was so – the nephew of a farmer was never destined to do great things, or have a great mind. I am a failure.

No, Saphira argued – surprisingly fiercely, Eragon thought. You are no ordinary farm boy. You are a Rider, Eragon, and need I remind you that I chose you? Would you question my judgement?

Rather than argue with her, he shrugged the thought off. All the same… Roran shares a small portion of my flesh and blood, and even he could find a way to save Katrina.

That way was you, little one. You helped him.

But then why can I not help Arya?

Saphira gave no answer. In his frustration, Eragon kicked his chair leg with a growl – a growl which, soon enough, turned into a groan. Useless. Failure. Stupid.

Now, little one, I know that you will find a way to save the princess.

He looked outside the tent into his dragons wide, clear eyes with his own tear-filled ones. How can you be so sure?

Silence.

There's something you're not telling me, Eragon frowned accusingly. Saphira, outside, shifted uneasily – the whole tent shook as she touched its side. Saphira, this is important! You must tell me!

I cannot tell you. Saphira paused, watching Eragon as though hoping he might suddenly understand. When no revelation came, she sighed and continued. But I can show you.

Suddenly, Eragon's head was filled with images, pictures and smells – smells he had only recognised when seeing the world through Saphira's eyes. He was looking through her memories once more.

Your name, Saphira, means 'Crystal sky' in our tongue, Eragon watched Glaedr say. The two dragons appeared to be soaring through a thick fog, with no intent other than to enjoy each others' company.

And what of yours, master? The younger dragon enquired eagerly. Eragon hummed disapprovingly as he noted Saphira's deep seated excitement and energy – barely contained – that was brought about by merely being next to the older, golden dragon. What does your name mean?

My name, Glaedr told her gently as he circled peacefully into a cloud, means 'love of a friend'- or, more directly, 'beloved'.

The apparition drifted away.

Suddenly bolted to his chair with the sheer truth of it all, Eragon realised what he had to do.

And so he ran.

-x-

"Do you think he'll get it?" Katrina asked worriedly, gripping the plain clay mug in her hands so tightly that Roran feared it might crack. Hurrying over to take it from her, he tried to reassure her with a hastily composed smile.

"Don't worry. I know Eragon. He's smart."

"Ha!"

Both of them turned instantaneously to glare at Angela – who, sitting in the corner of her tent with Solenbum purring on her lap, did a very good job of looking innocent. "What?"

"What do you mean, 'ha'?" Roran enquired. "This is serious!"

"Ha! Ha! What a lovely exclamation, don't you think? Ha! Ha ha ha!"

The witch met Roran's glare with a happy smile. Solenbum gave something which may have been something in between a laugh and a cat cough – turning out to be the latter, when he leaped from Angela's lap and outside the tent, from where a terrible retching sound could be heard.

"He gets the most terrible furballs," Angela sighed sadly. "I've offered him a tonic…"

"You never answered my question," Katrina interjected. "DO you think Eragon will understand? Before it's too late?"

"Define too late."

"Angela-!"

"Peace." Elva, sitting quietly in the corner, smiled her strange smile. "I have no doubt that Eragon will get it." She paused. "In fact, I think he already has."

"What makes you say that?" Roran asked.

By way of an answer, Elva pointed toward the door. A split second later, Eragon ran past at full speed.

-x-

Past the tents, through the mud, pushing and shoving in his attempts to get further through the crowds and ignoring the shouts and angry mutters he left behind; distance, time, held no meaning for Eragon.

Not today. Not now.

Crashing into his tent, Eragon ripped into his saddle bags, tearing anything in his way to oblivion. They are not important.

Not today. Not now.

A flash of gold…

Clumsiness instantly forgotten, Eragon lifted the golden orb with intimate care and thought that rarely had anything appeared so beautiful to him.

Glaedr?

Yes. I am here.

I need your help.

AN: I'm sorry it took so long – I just wanted it to be good. I love you all (especially BookLovinWorm. I'm waiting on those reviews, hon).

Just the epilogue to go!! (Which, I promise, will not take as long as this one.)

Love muchly x

PS. Sorry it's short.