Yay! I've finally finished yet another incredibly long chapter! And no, I did not intend it to be this long. It just ... what is it I say sometimes? It wrote itself. But from now on, the chapters will return to normal length, around 2,000 words.

But before we continue the story, I would like to thank you for the number of reviews I got for the last chapter! Seven reviews! Well done, everyone, and keep up the good work!

Oh, just one last thing. After the encounter with the spirits, I think I made Arya rather OOC, but I'll leave it that way, because I think spirits could make anyone OOC. Just so you know.

Chapter 34: Encounter with magic

Arya gazed down at the flower in Eragon's hand. She knew she should be shocked, shocked like she had been when it became clear to her just what Eragon was feeling towards her. But she was not. All she felt was a sense of thankfulness towards the boy - no, the young man - who was doing his best to comfort her. The feeling, she realized, was not caused so much by the gift as by Eragon's reason for giving it to her.

Smiling a little awkwardly, Eragon said:

"It's not a white rose, but ..."

He cut himself off, shrugging. Reaching out her hand, Arya took the flower from him, a name for it leaping into her mind. Livissa.

"You should not have", Arya said. "But I am glad you did."

Her fingers moved against the underside of the lily, as though making sure that it was real. As she raised the blossom to her face, the sweet smell of spring, of forest, of life, filled her nostrils. A feeling of relaxation came over her. It was not passion. It was not any kind of warmth. It was just peace. The sort of peace she had been describing to Eragon in the beginning of their conversation. That felt like at least a day ago to her.

Had Eragon known in what ways that simple gesture would affect her? Or had he merely been repeating what Fäolin had done for her, so long ago?

There, Arya stopped her thoughts, before they had time to reach that complicated mess that she was always struggling to avoid. Now was not the moment to sort that out.

Digging a hole in the earth next to her, Arya carefully planted the lily in it.

"Thank you", she said, her eyes never leaving the blue flower. "Giving flowers is a custom that both our races share, but we elves attach greater importance to it than do humans. It signifies all that is good. Life, beauty, rebirth, friendship and more. I explain so that you understand how much this means to me. You did not know, but ..."

But before she had time to complete the sentence, Eragon interrupted her:

"I knew."

Those two words silenced Arya, as she realized her mistake. She had, once again, underestimated Eragon, treating him not as an equal, but as someone who knew less than she did. She had, just as she had done back in Ellesméra, forgotten how much Oromis had been able to teach him during his time in the city. But no, she corrected herself. Not how much Oromis had been able to teach him, but how much Eragon had been able to learn.

"Forgive me", she told Eragon. "That is twice now I have forgotten the extent of your education. I shall not make the mistake again."

Then, glancing back at the lily again, she repeated, this time in the Ancient Language:

"Thank you."

"It was my pleasure", Eragon replied immediately, also changing language. "And I am glad you enjoy the gift."

A shiver passed over his body, and Arya suddenly became aware of how tired he looked. She had not studied his face properly since he'd given her the lily. No, since she had begun telling him of that which she wanted to just forget. But now that she did, she saw that it was pale in the light from the gleaming stars.

She understood that Eragon had used too much of his strength when creating the lily, a mistake not uncommon for elves when they practiced singing plants into shape with magic.

"You used too much of your strength", Arya told him.

Then, her attention was caught by the sapphire on his ring, Aren, and she continued:

"If you have any energy left in Aren, use it to steady yourself."

Appearing surprised at the suggestion, Eragon looked at the ring, then said:

"I don't know if there is any energy in Aren. I've never stored any there myself, and I never checked if Brom had."

His voice faded, and an expression of concentration came over his face. Then, his eyes widened in apparent astonishment.

Almost a minute later, Eragon finally turned to Arya again, laughing as he said:

"It's full of energy. Brom must have stored every bit of power he could spair in it the whole time he was hiding in Carvahall. All those years! With what's in Aren, I could tear apart an entire castle with a single spell."

"He knew he would need it to keep the new Rider safe when Saphira hatched", Arya pointed out. "Also, I am sure Aren was a way for him to protect himself if he had to fight a Shade or some other similarly powerful opponent. It was not by accident that he managed to frustrate his enemies for the better part of a century. If I were you, I would save the energy he left you for your hour of greatest need, and I would add to it whenever I could. It is an incredibly valuable resource. You should not squander it."

Eragon continued to gaze down at the ring. By now, his face was unreadable to Arya, who was content to sit in silence, watching him, listening to the crackling of the fire as the flames consumed the wood they had piled up.

After several minutes had passed in silence, Eragon said:

"Arya, do male dragons grow any faster than female dragons?"

"No", said Arya. "Why do you ask?"

"Because of Thorn", Eragon explained. "He's only a few months old, and yet he's almost as big as Saphira. I don't understand it."

This was true, Arya thought. True, even though she had hardly gave it a thought, seeing as she had never been that near the red dragon.

With her thoughts still on Eragon's question, she started to write in the soil next to her with a blade of grass. Just like in Ellesméra, the writing helped to focus and organize her thoughts.

"Most likely", she said to Eragon, "Galbatorix accelerated his growth so Thorn would be large enough to hold his own with Saphira."

"Ah!" Eragon said. "Isn't that dangerous, though? Oromis told me that if he used magic to give me the strength, speed, endurance and other skills I needed, I would not understand my new abilities as well as if I had gained them in the ordinary way, by hard work. He was right too. Even now, the changes the dragons made to my body during the Agaetí Blödhren still sometimes catch me by surprise."

Arya nodded, without pausing her writing.

"It is possible to reduce the undesirable side effects by certain spells", she said. "But it is a long and arduous process. If you wish to achieve true mastery of your body, it is still best to do so through normal means. The transformation Galbatorix has forced upon Thorn must be incredibly confusing for him. Thorn now has the body of a nearly grown dragon, and yet his mind is still that of a youngling."

"Do you also know why Murtagh is so powerful?" Eragon asked. "More powerful than I am?"

"If I did, no doubt I would also understand how Galbatorix has managed to increase his own strength to such incredible hights. But alas, I do not."

Upon hearing this, Eragon was silent for a long while, his mind seeming to work furiously with something Arya did not know.

For several minutes, the conversation flowed easily between them, neither of them mentioning their previous, emotional subject. For that, Arya was glad. However, she could not stop her gaze from returning to the blue Loivissa every now and then. It felt as though her eyes were drawn to the flower, in much the same way as her thoughts were drawn to Eragon, even when she knew it would be best not to think about him. Not to wonder.

For wonder was what she always did when thinking about him. No matter what he said or did, there always seemed to be questions for her to answer. Perhaps it has something to do with his ability to get himself entangled in so much trouble everywhere, she thought to herself. He does not choose the safe paths, as most people would, but the ones he thinks are the right ones.

While they talked, Arya struggled to concentrate on each word she said, as though in an attempt to pull herself back to reality. Whatever reality meant to her now, when everything around her kept changing so much.

Arya stopped writing on the ground after a while, focusing instead on making a small ship out of the blades of grass that lay scattered around her. During her early years in Ellesméra, she had always been skilled at working with things from the nature, shaping grass and leaves into ships and other things. Once, she had even attempted to create a dragon. However, that had failed miserably. She had never showed it to anyone.

At one point in their conversation, they reached the subject of True Names. As she thought about it, Arya realized that a lot of conversations concerning magic eventually seemed to return to that particular subject, as though it was the essence of everything. And of course, in one way, it was.

"Has anyone tried to guess Galbatorix's True Name?" asked Eragon. "It seems as if that would be the fastest way to end this war. To be honest, I think it is the only hope we have of vanquishing him in battle."

A few words of what he had just said stuck in Arya's mind then, and even though she tried to stop thinking about it, she found she could not. "To be honest ..." It was something that was never said in the Ancient Language, for what reason was there to do it when all lying was prevented by the power in every word?

"Were you not being honest with me before?" she asked before she could prevent herself.

Eragon chuckled at her question.

"Of course not!" he answered. "It's just a figure of speech."

As he said that, it struck Arya how very much like Brom he sounded. It was exactly the same words she knew the older Rider would have used had she asked him such a question. Which, now that she thought it over, she believed she had, during her first few years with the Varden.

"And a poor one at that", she said to Eragon. "Unless you happen to be in the habit of lying."

Eragon looked at her for a few seconds, before he continued with what he had been sayng before she interrupted.

"I know it would be hard to find Galbatorix's True Name", he said. "But if all the elves and all the members of the Varden who knew the ancient Language searched for it, we could not help but succeed."

"Galbatorix's True Name is no great secret", Arya told him. "Three elves, one a Rider and two ordinary spellcasters, discovered it on their own, and many years apart."

"They did?" Eragon burst out, suddenly excited.

Arya continued, however, before he had time to say anything else:

"We can only speculate whether Galbatorix himself knows his True Name. I am of the opinion that he does not. For whatever it is, his True Name must be so terrible, he could not go on living if he heard it."

"Unless he is so evil or so demented, the truth about his actions has no power to disturb him", Eragon suggested.

"Perhaps", said Arya. "Either way, Galbatorix is certainly aware that he has a True Name, like all creatures and things, and that it is a potential weakness. At some point before he embarked on his campain against the Riders, he cast a spell that kills whoever uses his True Name. And since we do not know exactly how this spell kills, we cannot shield ourselves from it. You see then why we have all but abandoned that line of inquiry. Oromis is one of the few who re brave enough to continue seeking out Galbatorix's True Name, all be it in a roundabout manner."

Arya stopped speaking, her hands working to complete the last details on the ship of grass she had been forming. Pleased with what she had made, she held out her hands to Eragon, revealing what she had made. His eyes moved swiftly over it, and he said quietly:

"It's beautiful!"

Arya did not respond, but she was glad for the praise.

For a moment, she let her eyes rest on the ship, while wondering what she would do with it. Creating it had merely been a way for her to keep her hands busy with something.

Suddenly a thought leapt into her mind. She pictured the ship, floating on the winds above this plain, above Dras-Leona, and further on still, for ever flying. The image delighted her, and she leaned forwards, murmuring to the grass ship resting on her palms:

"Flauga!"

On her command, the ship lifted from her hands, taking the energy it needed from the plants below. It circled their camp once, then flew off into the night. Watching it fly away, Arya found herself wondering what people would think once they saw it.

"How far will it go?" Eragon questioned.

"For ever", she replied. "It takes the energy to stay aloft from the plants below. Wherever there are plants, it can fly."

"Imagine the stories people will tell about it in the years to come", remarked Eragon.

"Many such oddities exist in the world", said Arya. "The longer you live and the further you travel, the more of them you will see."

Changing back to their previous subject, Eragon asked:

"If it's so important to protect your True Name, should I cast a spell to keep Galbatorix from using my True Name against me?"

"You can if you wish to, but I doubt it is necessary. True Names are not so easy to find as you think. Galbatorix does not know you well enough to guess your name. And if he were inside your mind, and able to examine your every thought and memory, you would be already lost to him, True Name or no."

She hesitated for a while, studying him. She had not paid a thought to what his True Name might be. At least, none that she could remember. She knew, however, that she would not be able to guess it.

"If it is any comfort", she said, "I doubt that even I could devine your True Name."

"Couldn't you?"

Eragon seemed surprised, and perhaps, although this was only an assumption, even a little disappointed.

"No, I do not think so", she said. "Could you guess mine?"

"No."

Silence descended upon them again. And in that silence, a wind swept over them. A cold wind that howled like an injured animal, making an involuntary shudder run down Arya's spine. There was something odd about this wind. She knew it, she could feel it in the very air. It was not created in the natural way, a fact that immediately made all her senses alert.

The wind increased in strength, and it was though it isolated her and Eragon from the rest of the world. Sparks from their fire flew everywhere, spreading in the gusts of wind.

Moving forwards, Arya began to scoop dirt over the fire, soon joined by Eragon. Together, they extinguished the fire. For whatever it was that was watching them now, they had better not announce their presence. Although Arya guessed it hardly mattered, she felt safer with the fire gone.

She was about to stand up, then changed her mind, as it suddenly became clear to her what was watching them. Spirits. It was the only possible explanation, as far as she knew. For what else could create such an odd and unnatural wind? And what else could make it feel as though she and Eragon were completely cut off from the rest of the world?

"What is it?" asked Eragon, and the intensity in his voice revealed that he too had sensed that something was not as it should.

"We are being watched", Arya replied, finding no time to give a further explanation. "Whatever happens, don't use magic, or you may get us killed."

"Who ...", he began, but Arya merely hushed him, straining her ears to catch a sound from the surroundings, other than the continued howling of the wind.

Then, she saw them. A group of lights, darting towards the camp faster than anything should be able to fly. The lights were round, constantly changing in colour and size as they flew. The air around them was humming, as though it was filled with so much power it was ready to burst at any moment. As the spirits came hurtling into the camp, Arya could feel her hair standing on end, and resisted the temptation to try and flatten it.

"What do they want?" shouted Eragon, but Arya, whose mind was focused entirely on what was happening around them, chose not to answer.

By this time, one of the spirits had flown out of the group and was hovering right in front of her, as though waiting for something. And Arya knew what it wanted now. She had encountered spirits before, although only once.

Raising her left arm, Arya pushed it through the barrier of power that surrounded the orb of light, and then laid her hand on its surface.

As soon as her hand touched the centre of the spirit, the presence of its mind flowed into her thoughts, not even having to force its way through her defences. They had collapsed before she had even got time to strengthen them.

But at the next moment, Arya would never have thought of pushing the creature out of her mind. Not with the wild joy that was suddenly filling her, brushing away all her other emotions as easily as the spirit had broken her mental barriers.

However, there was not only joy inside her, but also a question. The spirit wanted to know why both she and Eragon had cast the spells they had used, and she could find no reason not to explain. She would do anything to satisfy them, just so that she would be able to experience this wonderful feeling of happiness for a little longer. Which was, of course, exactly what the spirits wanted her to feel.

Arya spoke, not only explaining about their magic, but also telling the spirit that Eragon had been the one freeing the spirits that Durza had trapped within his body. She did not know how she could tell that the information was important, but she knew that it mattered.

When the spirit had finally got the information it wanted, its presence withdrew from Arya's mind, and it glided over to where Eragon was sitting. Arya saw how he cast a questioning look at her, as though unsure what to do, and she gestured for him to do the same as she had done.

She watched, absolutely motionless, as Eragon came in contact with the spirit, and blue rays of light started flashing between his right palm and the orb.

A whole minute went by, while Arya watched the encounter between a Dragon Rider and a spirit with fascination, feeling all the energy that was swirling around her at that moment. And then, the spirit returned to its companions, and they rushed out of the camp as quickly as they had come.

The silence that fell in the camp was immense, for by now, even the wind had died down. All was quiet again.

Arya stared after the spirits, with a feeling of emptiness. She longed for the joy she had felt while in contact with that glowing orb of light. It had been a comfort to her. Why couldn't it have stayed for just a little longer?

But no. The spirit had not done it for Arya, but for itself. The joy had been its weapon and nothing else. Keeping that in mind, she carefully blocked the longing she felt, subdued it until it was manageable. Then, she turned back to Eragon, to explain about the spirits and their nature.

They discussed the subject of spirits for quite a long time, but all the while, something else kept nagging at arya's attention, until finally, she had to examine it more closely. The lily. She didn't know why she thought there was anything odd about it, but knew that something must have changed.

Moving towards it, she touched the petals, and was astounded. They felt ... cold. Cold as metal. But yet, as she reached out her mind towards it, the flower was still just as alive as it had been before.

"Oh!" Arya exclaimed. "Naina!"

Her spell caused a soft light to appear in the air, illuminating the camp and the flower. And she saw that it was made of gold. A golden lily.

"It's a perfect copy!" Eragon burst out.

"And it is still alive", Arya finished.

"No!"

A smile touched her lips as she watched him focusing his mind on the lily. Then, Eragon said:

"This is beyond anything I know of magic. By all rights, this lily ought to be dead. Instead it is thriving. I cannot even imagine what would be involved in turning a flower into living metal. Perhaps Saphira could do it, but she would never be able to teach the spell to anyone else."

"The real question is whether this flower will produce seeds that are fertile", Arya commented.

"It could spread?" Eragon asked, incredulous.

"I would not be surprised if it does", she told him.

"Unfortunately", Eragon said, "if anyone discovers this flower or the offspring it may have, they will dig them all up. Every fortune hunter in the land will come here to pick the golden lilies."

"They will not be so easy to destroy, I think", Arya observed. "But only time will tell for sure."

Eragon smiled to himself. With the expression getting steadily wider, he said:

"I've heard the expression 'to gild the lily' before. But the spirits actually did it. They gilded the lily!"

And he burst into a roaring laughter that echoed throughout their surroundings. Also smiling, Arya replied:

"Well, their intentions were noble. We cannot fault them for being ignorant of human sayings."

"No, but ..."

There, Eragon was interrupted by his own laughing.

Arya snapped her fingers, extinguishing the light she had conjured, before saying:

"We have talked away most of the night. It is time we rest. Dawn is fast approaching, and we must depart soon there after."

Then, she lay down on the ground and closed her eyes. The last sound she heard before drifting into her waking dreams was Eragon's chuckling. And in her mind, the image of the golden lily remained, giving her a quiet sense of peace and comfort throughout the rest of the night.