Trees. Trees. Trees. And more trees. Don't get me wrong - I love trees! - but wow. This was a forest. This was the full meal deal and it stretched on and on until it hit the curved dome of the horizon. Wow. Amazing. Awe-inspiring. They were all words that could be used to describe this place but they don't due it justice. Words have their limitations. Sometimes, like in Farthen Dur, I just can't convey what a place is really like. This is one of those times when you either have to visit the place or just me on this.
Ah but you are giving me that look again. Sorry, maybe I should back up a little. I've left you hanging as I wander through my thoughts and gaze at the tops of mighty oaks and elms. You are not here to hear me ramble about trees and the trials of being a story-teller. No, you are here for another purpose - a much bigger purpose - and I am being laxed in my duties. It must be irritating for me to go skipping from last night on the plains to mid-afternoon the next day. Let us go back a little. Ready? Excellent, I am ready to...
The morning, with its chilly dawn and faint glow to the east, came early for it was early summer in this world and the days were long. As the light began to spread across the vast dome of the sky it sent streamers of pink, gold, red, blue and purple shooting off like fireworks. To the west the sky was still inky black punctuated with small bright stars that sparkled like diamonds cast across black velvet.
Arya was bent over the small camp fire as she tried to create something more interesting then stewed roots in water. I hoped that, after a century of practice, she knew what she was doing because I certainly did not want to try and stomach something as unappetizing as stewed roots in hot water - again. Ugh.
Eragon was sorting through something or other in his saddle bags and Saphira had left for a brief morning hunt. The blue dragon was off chasing the fat herds of deer that wandered the foothills and plains that lay between the Beors and Du Weldenvarden.
I, after sitting silently, decided that it was time to broach a subject that needed to be discussed here, before introductions were made and stories were told to a certain queen and her court.
I cleared my throat - a sound that was unnaturally loud and awkward in the silence that lay over the camp. "Eragon. Arya." The two of them glanced up. Eragon with a distracted but curious look on his face while Arya did not loose her mask like indifference. I continued, this time with their attention, "I need to speak to the pair of you before we reach out destination."
"What needs to be said?" asked Eragon as he buckled the saddle bag closed and began to fiddle with the straps that attached it to Saphira's saddle.
"A great deal," I said seriously. I paused, gathered my thoughts, and then continued. "When we reach Du Weldenvarden both you and Arya will be expected to discuss your adventures. This also means that you will have to explain not only how you met me but why you trust me and how I came to be traveling with you."
I paused, let them think about that for a moment and then continued. "I will also have to give an explanation for myself but whatever is said must agree with what you both say."
"Ah," said Arya with a frown as she glanced down at the bubbling pot that was placed over the reddish flames. "I had forgotten about that. Though, once you bring it to mind, I see how important it is. My forgiveness Zoe, I have been caught in my own thoughts."
"No apologies please Arya," I said as I looked down at my hands. "Though I appreciate them I understand your position completely and have the utmost sympathy for you. However, I have not forgotten about it and I have been thinking a little of what needs to be said. I cannot let any more people know either about my true origins or the knowledge I contain. It is too dangerous for too many people, whether they swear oaths in the Ancient Language or not, to know what I know."
"How can it be avoided though?" said Eragon, frowning with concentration. "I could just say that you knew Brom and met us outside of Yazuac. That is the truth - you did know both of us but not in the conventional way. Then you travelled with us for a time, left, and then returned. I can leave out all the details in Gil'ead and gloss over your skills with weapons and," the Rider smirked, "with words if you want."
"Yes," I said. "That may work." I had my doubts though. There were too many holes and those listening would quickly grow suspicious. They would know that Eragon was not being open about me or his adventures with Brom. I bit my lower lip nervously - why had I done this again? Thrown myself in over my head without looking at what I was jumping into. When would I learn...not this time apparently.
"What will you say?" asked Arya as she stirred the pot. "You cannot, at least in the Ancient Language, say that you are from Alagaesia. Nor can you pretend to be some wanderer who means nothing Zoe. You bear the mark of power and all of your actions speak to your skill as both a warrior and as someone who acts independently of any single power."
"Maybe not," I said, "but neither can I say that I am really from another world, know the future because of a series of books, mean no harm and come in peace?" My voice rose at the end and I suddenly realized that I was gripping my hands so tightly that my knuckles were white. Forcing myself to relax, I said softly, "I am sorry for that. I did not mean to snap at either of you."
Arya waved her hand in my direction and Eragon shrugged. "It is fine Zoe," said the Rider. "We are all nervous," he glanced at Arya warily before continuing, "of what awaits us in Du Weldenvarden."
"That is no reason for me to get frustrated," I said firmly. Looking to the sky which was beginning to lighten as the stars flickered out like lightbulbs being flicked off. The sun was coming and with it another day of travel. Looking back to my companions, I twisted a strand of hair about my finger as I tried to be logical about all of this. "What about this for a plan," I said.
Arya and Eragon looked at me expectantly and I continued. "Eragon you will leave out you how you really met me and my skills. Instead you will just say I travelled with you and Brom a little but was separated from you by Urgals. We met up again in Dras'Leona and have been together since then. I have been both a friend and a companion to you, Saphira and Brom."
"What do I say?" said Arya. "My mother will try and force me to tell her more about you. She dislikes her opponents having their cards hidden."
Her words made me smile faintly. Another voice, my mother's in fact, echoed through my head: A Queen must be able to maneuver all her opponents and allies silently and without their knowledge. To do that you must understand all those who play our games as well as you know yourself.
"Any Queen," I said meeting the elf princess's green eyes, "would rather control all the players on the board or at least know what players there are. Trust me," I said with a small smirk, "I was lectured on the topic from the time I was old enough to know what the game of power was." Arya looked surprised and, maybe a touch irritated to find me defending her mother however slightly. However, she said nothing and so I continued. "What you say to her will be what you choose to say. If you think she should know more of me than I give you permission to say whatever you will."
Arya nodded, "I shall not I think," said the elf slowly, "tell her anything without you present. It is your past and your right to know what and how it is said."
It is a wonderful thing to have friends that you can count on. So often, I think, we find ourself surrounded by people who we don't really know or who will not be there when we really need them. But good friends are always there. You may hear it often reader but a good friend, a true friend, is worth far more than any treasure in any world. So I am going to say this: Keep them close for one day a good friend will be as necessary as the air you breathe.
"Thank you Arya," I said gratefully. The problem was not solved - far from it - but at least it was at the forefront of everyone's mind. What happened would happen. What was said would be said. I could only wait and hope that the skills picked up after long lessons and experience in such situations. Though, I will admit, even in the long years spent as a representative for my father I had never had to exchange stories with an elven Queen, an ancient dragon rider and a court full of watchful elven nobles.
There is a first for everything. Who knows? Maybe I will be forced to reveal my true past but, if that did happen, it would not be for lack of trying. I was Zoe. How dramatic I know…but I love the dramatic and have always had a flair for it.
The morning passed much like the other mornings before it. Once Saphira returned and we had eaten our fill of stewed roots (I'm trying to be positive) we took off or rather Saphira took off with us on her.
However, as we flew onwards, the dark line that stretched across the horizon began to take shape. It was a dark line, a forbidding one that seemed to both warn and intrigue the more I looked at it. I could not help but feel that to enter that dark forest was to leave behind who I was and, if I did emerge, I would be forever altered. As the land changed from arid plains to small clumps of forest and lush grass, I knew we were growing closer.
Finally, just as the sun began to fall towards the edge of the horizon, Arya bade Saphira to land in a small meadow. The clearing was beside the river that traced its way from the ancient forest all the way to the Beors. It was just large enough for Saphira to land comfortably and yet small enough that she had to be careful not to stretch her wings to far out to the side.
When I dismounted, sore and stiff, from Saphira I could not help but breathe in deeply as I stepped away from the blue dragon. The air in this little clearing was fresh and sharp - I felt as if I was breathing in magic and the very fabric of this place was created of ancient, uncontrollable magic that threatened to overwhelm me with its wild music.
I stepped forward and gazed around me. The grass was lush beneath my feet like a plush carpet and the wild flowers gave off a heady smell. And this, I thought wonderingly, is the fringe of the elves home. What will it be like in the heart of this place? Du Weldenvarden was not just a forest, it was a place so old and so imbued with power that to enter it was accept that magic into your very soul.
Arya stepped forward and then, when she stood alone, cried in the ancient language, "Come forth my brethren! You have nothing to fear. 'Tis I, Arya of Ellesmera and House Drottning, My companions are allies; they mean us no harm!"
The silence that followed her words was almost unbearable for me. The magic of the forest was slowly smothering me, calling me to join it in its wild music. It was taking all my strength, all my will power, to refuse it. For I wanted to join that magic, it was calling to that part of me that I had felt awaken in Farthen Dur during the battle.
Suddenly, snapping me back to the material world, came a quick line of Elvish that was so fast that I could not catch the words. However, with a firm nod of her head, Arya responded: "I do."
With a rustle of leaves, two elves stood on the edge of the forest and two ran lightly out of the boughs of a gnarled oak. The swift lightness of their footsteps made the warrior part of me uneasy. As they came a little closer I made out their weapons in the slowly fading light. Those on the ground bore long spears with sharp, glittering tips that reflected the red and gold sunset. The others all bore bows that were as finely crafted as the one that Arya carried. All of them were garbed in tunics of light grey and green that served to only make them more impossible to distinguish from the forest. Two of them were dark haired, one silver and the other a bright golden blonde. The elves seemed to glow softly and their faces were impossibly fair with delicate features and sharp eyes.
The elves dropped from the trees and embraced Arya, laughing in their clear, pure voices. The sound made the air shiver with the sounds of their wind chime like mirth. As they laughed they joined hands and danced, like children playing ring-around-the-rosie, around Arya.
Beside me Eragon, looking faintly bemused, rested a hand against Saphira who, like her Rider, looked on at the scene with laughter glinting in her large blue eyes. I, on the other hand, still felt the intoxicating effects of the magic that made up this place. As swiftly as I could, I erected every single barrier I could imagine around my mind in an effort to block the wild magic that echoed around this place. I was determined not to allow myself to be carried away by that magic - I felt as if that to allow it would mean I could never return to myself.
It was then, as the elves stopped their merry-making that they seemed to notice the rather large blue dragon and the two people standing beside her. Their eyebrows rose in alarm and they all swiftly turned to Arya, ready to demand an explanation from her. The slender hands gripped the smooth wood of those deadly spears and bows.
Arya, speaking quietly and swiftly, motioned first at Eragon and then at me. She was, no doubt, giving the abbreviated version of who her human companions were but her words were too soft for me to catch.
When she stopped, the elves underwent another rapid mood change. Their faces lost the alarm and instead they smiled widely and moved closer to us. They stopped first in front of Saphira and pressed their forefingers to their lips in the traditional greeting before bowing low.
Eragon, no doubt remembering those lessons in etiquette, returned their greetings with smooth ease.
It was then, confusion glinting in their eyes that the elves turned to me. I saw interest and curiosity in those bright, angled eyes that gazed at me so intensely that I felt as if I was on display.
That other part of me, the mask of the crown princess, flicked on as I inclined my hand and twisted my hand in the traditional greeting. The elves surprise flashed through their eyes but they quickly covered it as they too greeted me. I knew, without a doubt, that I had intrigued them and, I had the feeling, that elves would not allow their curiosity to go unsatisfied. Their names, in the order they addressed me, were: Lifaen of House Rilvenar, Edurna of House Silfrie, Celdin of House Tadion, and Nari of House Calderna.
With greetings finished the elves turned and waved their hands as they called out, "Come!"
So we followed. As the canopy of trees closed overhead, as the darkness became thick and the air heavy with moisture the feeling of entering the unknown intensified.
As the elves called out directions and I followed close behind the blue dragon, I suddenly realized what the magic was trying to tell me with its shifting tunes. It was trying to welcome me and that part of me, that part that awoken so briefly when I needed it in Farthen Dur, was calling out to the magic and pulling me into the power. No matter how many barriers I erected, no matter what I did, I could not continue to refuse it.
The moment I accepted this and let my barriers fall away, I suddenly felt lighter and free - so wondrously light - as the power drew me in. Or was it the other way? It did not force me to loose my myself nor did it sweep me away as I settled into the twisting strands of power. Instead it settled around me and quieted down from its wild tempest of magic that was unfettered by either words or emotions.
I smiled and shivered at the feeling of raw power running through me. The power quickly died down but I knew it was still there and it felt like a missing piece of my identity had just been returned to me. I raised my chin proudly for, despite the impenetrable darkness and the strangeness of the elves and their ways, I felt strong.
Arya felt...she felt like an outsider. She felt as if she, not Zoe or Eragon, was the human entering this forest for the first time. In comparison she felt impossibly awkward and uncomfortable when surrounded by her own people. She had been out in the world - become harden - while they had been sheltered behind thick wards. She had been tortured, had fought and killed alongside men and dwarves and they...they had not! They had practiced for that far away day but never ventured into a world where those skills meant the difference between life and death. She - a princess! - felt rough and cold in both appearance and manners.
Arya stood by one of three huts that were clustered around the base of a large oak. The small outpost was one of many spread out through the perimeter of the forest. High in the tree was a roofed platform where a watchman could observe the river and forest. A small fire already burned by the huts and its light sent shadows dancing across the forest floor. On the fire a pot of bubbling vegetable stew was already cooking.
She sighed softly. Soon, too soon, she would have to revisit the events that had led to her mother's choice to close their borders to the Varden and the hatching of Saphira. She knew that Lifaen and those who served under him well enough to trust them with the knowledge but that did not make speaking of it any easier.
Looking to Saphira she saw the dragon spread out beside Eragon who leaning against the corner of one of the huts. The two were watching the elves preparing the meal with interest and she wondered what they were speaking of. Not for the first or the last time she wished she to had a companion like Saphira. To be able to share not only words but emotions and thoughts freely and with complete trust...how she wished for it! How she longed to share her doubts, her fears, her memories and cast aside her walls!
She broke the train of thought forcibly and looked for Zoe. The girl was standing with her back to the fire and the elves there. Her back was to Arya and she was standing so still she might have been a statue. Her weapons glinted in the light cast by the fire. Of all the things she could have thought about, looking at her made the elf wonder what it must be like to know, waiting for you at home, was a warm welcome. A family that loved you and wished for you to return? Was it harder to know that, far away, those loved ones were worrying for you? Was this jealously…surely not. She did not, was above, feeling something so petty like jealously especially of a person who had as many responsibilities and duties as Zoe did.
No, if she was truly honest it was fear. It was a deep fear that had lingered within her for years and years – something that she had ignored for just as long. When she was frightened she had mastered it and confronted it. She had lived by the rule that she was not ruled by that emotion. This was not that type of fear - this was the fear of rejection. She had already been rejected by her mother once and now she risked it time there was no Faolin to comfort her or an unhatched dragon egg that needed her to guard it.
As dinner was served, as Lifaen and the others played their instruments she sat quietly. Celdin went up to the watch deck on duty while the others went into the various huts. A significant look from Lifaen made her remember her promise to give a full explanation.
Rising from the ground Arya looked around for her companions. They had been silent, no doubts tired after the constant travelled, and Arya half expected to see Zoe and Eragon sleeping with the exhausted Saphira. To her surprise they were not and, curious, she moved closer to hear what they were saying. Their voices were too quiet for her to hear but she did not want to interrupt and so she crept into the shadows by one of the huts and listened closely.
"Yesterday you just said you could look forward to a homecoming but what about after?" asked Eragon as he traced a pattern in the soft soil.
"Why the sudden interest in the future?" asked Zoe. The fire light was reflected in her eyes as she rested her chin on her knees which she had drawn up to her chest. She looked young - very young - right then to Arya.
"Because I have been thinking about it," said the Rider. "Both Saphira and I have been thinking about what awaits us after all this is done."
"After Galbatorix is dead?"
"Yes," said Eragon. "I cannot return to Carvahall or the life I had once. So, if not that, then what will become of me? Of Saphira?" The blue dragon snorted slightly but, if she commented, Arya was not privy to it.
"I suppose," said Zoe slowly, "that I will have to find a way to settle back into the life I had once. I must reconnect with my family, my friends and find out what has changed." Arya moved a little closer, wanting to hear more. Zoe sighed and continued, "I have duties and responsibilities. I once led a group of rangers who patrolled the northern borders of the kingdom. Perhaps I will return to them or maybe my older brother will want me elsewhere. I will not know until I am once again in my homeland."
"I fear the future," said Eragon so softly that Arya had to strain her elven ears to catch the Rider's words. "I wish I could slow and stop time so that I never had to face Galbatorix or, in some ways even more frightening, what lies beyond that."
Zoe was silent for so long that Arya wondered if she would ever respond. When she did her voice was tired. It was the voice of someone who had lost and gained, who had sacrificed for something bigger then they were and who, when all was said and done, would have to do it again.
"Someone very wise and very dear to me once told me that I needed to stop trying to get somewhere and, instead, let the future unfold as it would. I had to let things come to me – not the only way around. That person also told me that, if I held true to myself and what I loved, then I would not fail. You must do the same Eragon. Saphira."
She raised her face and the firelight hit it making her hair shine and her eyes glitter. Her face lost the youthful, reflective look and took on one that could only be described as proud and determined. She seemed to glow with vitality, with a fierce determination that made her stand out from the shadows. In that moment she lost any vestige of the Zoe Arya knew and became the Zoe of another world who was born to an ancient and royal family. Suddenly she became a leader – a queen – someone who inspired and expected loyalty. Her voice, still quiet, became as hard as steel. She seemed to be speaking to herself as much as she was to Eragon as she sat there, back perfectly straight as she looked straight ahead.
"Every choice you make, every step you take will determine what your fate is. Sometimes we cannot do what we wish we could do. Sometimes we wish we had never entered this game but you cannot go back Eragon. None of us can. We can only go forward and, when we are afraid, we must master that fear."
She fell silent again and seemed to return to the Zoe that Arya knew. The girl that was still unsure of herself, who still felt out of her depth, who did not trust herself to handle the game of power and who would rather sit quietly in a corner than speak openly. The power, the proud princess who had commanded armies, faded away and left the girl behind.
Eragon broke the silence, "It won't be easy will it? Even if I do manage to defeat Galbatorix?"
Zoe placed her chin back on her knees as she gazed at the fire. "No, life is never and will never be easy. Sometimes the hardest thing is moving on after you climb the impossible mountain. When a journey is complete you must start another one that is just as challenging and just as fulfilling. When they say that it is the journey counts just as much, if not more, than the goal they are right. It takes courage. So much courage."
Arya heard the sounds of the other elves quietly speaking as they talked among themselves. Soon she would have to go join them and speak about the events that had occurred during her absence. Yet she did not want to leave. She wanted to keep listening for she found some comfort in Zoe's words even if they were not meant for her but for Eragon and Saphira.
Before she could withdraw and make her way to the small hut where Lifaen and the others were waiting for her, Eragon spoke. Now he sounded rather curious, "Zoe."
"Yes," said the girl as she gripped her knees tighter.
"You didn't have to come with Brom, Saphira and I. You could have gone your own way. Why did you choose to come and then stay with us?"
Zoe chuckled, "Why? Oh Eragon...why not? I had to stay with you. Firstly because I did not know how to survive by myself in the wild and because...well I suppose I knew that I had to go with you. I could have left you and muddled through but I didn't because by traveling with you I was fulfilling a purpose that I did not know of. And I don't regret it."
"Really?" asked Eragon. "But you could have died so many times Zoe! All because of me. Surely you wish you were back home with your siblings instead of facing Durza, Urgals and everything else."
Zoe turned her head to look at Eragon and, hidden in the shadows, Arya. Her eyes were soft - the grey-blue like the sea on a calm day. "I would gladly face it all again Eragon. You both are friends. But," her eyes twinkled with mirth, "if it makes you feel less uncomfortable then I also did it because if Alagaesia falls than so will my home. I am fighting for you and for all those who cannot fight for themselves."
Eragon nodded slightly and Saphira shifted. Once again, Arya had the feeling that the dragon was speaking but what she said the elf could not hear for she was not included in the mental link. Whatever was said made Zoe chuckle again as she rested her cheek on her knees. Her face turned towards the dragon and her Rider.
"Now Eragon," said the girl with mock sterness. "You had better not forget what I have told you today. I hate going over things twice."
"I shan't," said Eragon and the emotion in those two words made Arya wonder just how much Zoe's advice had meant to him.
"Good," said Zoe and she laughed. It was such a sudden sound, so surprising and so unexpected that Arya nearly jumped. "Just think," said the girl and now her face seemed to shine with child like wonder. "Where we are and how far we have come."
"Indeed," said Eragon with a small laugh of his own, "but I think I will prepare for bed."
Arya drew away then and made her way to the small hut where she was expected. Her thoughts twirled and twisted just as her frayed nerves did. Glancing up at the sky she could not see a single star. The forest canopy blocked them out. She would miss them but, if all went well, then it would not be long before she was back in the outside world. A world, ironically, that she felt more comfortable in then one she was born to.
Chapter time...at last...soooooo sorry! but I hope this made up for it and that you enjoy it! Elves are a bit hard to write but oh well - I hope I did ok! I am thinking that I maybe need to shrink my chapters a bit so let me know if you would prefer smaller - more bite sized ones - in the future. :)
Thank you to all my amazing reviewers and readers! You guys are soooo awesome! So thank you and please keep reviewing and reading!