So we are back again. Back to the moment where we first started. Back to Saphira's saddle as the forest of Du Weldenvarden disappears beneath us. Back to me. You are sitting with me, with Eragon and with Arya. You are sitting here as the wind buffets us and the shines down brightly on us the emerald green trees that stretch out endlessly all around us. Here you have left everything behind as you join me on this journey.
I wonder what would happen to you, to your world, if Galbatorix won and began his divide and conquer plan that would Would you feel the effects of this failure? Would we meet in a prison cell as a mad King and his dragon shook the very foundations of time and space? What would we say to each other if we did meet...would you blame me for the mess because of my meddling? Meddling that you, merely a passenger along for the ride, witnessed and watched with silent but growing horror?
I hope not. I really do. I hope that you and I will never meet under such circumstances when our worlds are thrust together because of war.
Am I rambling again? I suppose I am and I know that you don't have the time nor the desire to listen to my ramblings. They are useless speculations that will lead nowhere. No doubt you have places to be, things to do and a busy life that awaits you when you leave me. Your life might be one of touch and go. You might never had intended to be caught up in this whole affair but somehow you did. I don't even know why you have stayed with me. Why you didn't just pass this by...but I can't ask you these questions. For now at least this communication only goes one way.
So let us skip this part of the journey. It is dull and, unless you like my ramblings, then we should continue. On to Ellesmera and its hidden secrets. On to the place where Arya will have to confront her fears. On to the place where Eragon and Saphira will become who they are meant to be.
We stopped for the night in a small clearing. The evening was a silent affair - very silent - and before take off the next morning I took the opportunity to bathe in a fast flowing stream that ran beside our little campsite. The further we had travelled into the forest the thicker and taller the trees grew. Here, almost in the centre of the ancient forest, some of the trees were over two hundred feet tall with girths of over seventy feet. These were some of the oldest living things on this land they had their own kind of wisdom. A wisdom that filled the air and the silences with a heavy kind of waiting. There was patience here, a patience that had been developed by years and years of quiet watching and waiting.
It was early morning but little to no light reached through the canopy of the forest. At night we were plunged into a blackness so complete I almost thought I was blind and kept jumping at even the slightest noise. Testing the water with one foot I gritted my teeth and jumped in. The water, far from warm, was 'invigorating' to put it simply and I was out and in as fast as I could possibly manage.
Despite my desperation to escape the frigid water I prepared myself with special care for the following events. According to Arya the city was less than a few hours flight from here. It had been one of the few things she had managed to say the previous night. Dinner was one affair I would rather not go back to - her tension had only made all of ours worse and even Saphira had been affected by it.
Speaking of Saphira, I had the feeling she would be relieved to rest her wings a little in Ellesmera. Carrying all three of us plus supplies had pushed to the very ends of her flying abilities. It had been lucky that a tail wind had supported her for most of the flight and that she was able to stop for regular breaks. She had been quite silent on the trip, speaking only with Eragon and occasionally including either Arya or I but, for the most part, she had concentrated on keeping as all aloft.
Once I as clean as one could be - it felt so lovely - I dressed once again in my simple black leather clothing. I knew now that this style of flexible, durable and soft leather outer-gear was common among the rangers I had once ridden with. I twisted my hair in an effort to rid it of any excess water. My hair had grown from just below my shoulders to half way down my back. The dark, nearly black locks, had only become thicker as it became longer and it was quickly become rather unmanageable. Irritated with the hair I swiftly braided it up in the style I used at Ajihad's funeral and many times before that. Soon it would be time to chop the lot of it off.
When I was dressed, I took a few minutes to merely sit on a wide, smooth rock that was beside the rushing stream. I allowed my thoughts to float away along with my worries and nervous adrenaline that made me want to run all the way to Ellesmera. In its place a certain amount of tranquility filled me. It made my thoughts sharper but it calmed me - it took me to a place that was both quiet and yet because of that quiet I could hear and sense more. As if everything had been slowed down and then sharpened.
During the time spent on Saphira I had entered that mind numbing state of boredom that one feels when sitting in a car on an extended road trip. Now I needed to clear my thoughts of that sluggish dull feeling.
When my few minutes were up I returned to the campsite. Arya was already standing beside a patiently waiting Saphira. The elf did not even look at me thought Eragon seemed to relieved that I had returned - if only to provide a buffer from Arya. The Rider had been sitting by a tree examining a cluster if snowberries that grew by his feet but he rose quickly at my return.
I noticed with some amusement that he had also done his best to prepare himself for the coming audience. He had changed from the clothes he had worn for travel into another, simple but clean, tunic and breeches.
I quickly gathered my weapons and remounted along with the others. Once we were safely secured in her saddle, Saphira pushed off the soft forest floor and we gained altitude and emerged into the bright sunlight of early morning - winging our way towards our fates.
We stopped after three hours of the never ending hills of prickly green that rolled unbroken to the very edge of the world. When Saphira settled to the ground we dismounted and stood, waiting silently, for Arya to speak. It had been she who had told Saphira to land and I knew why but the dragon and been rather confused by it as had Eragon.
Which she did after resting one slender hand on the bark of an ancient tree that towered like a silent guardian above us. "We must continue on foot now. We will already have triggered certain wards that protect Ellesmera. It would be unwise to stray from the path so follow close behind me."
Silently, one hand on my sword, I followed behind the elf. The forest was quiet, not unnaturally so but still quiet enough that I felt as if I was being watched. As if each and every footfall, no matter how light, reverberated through the air and signaled something to someone.
I knew, with a single glance at Eragon, that he was overcome by the solemn beauty of the place. By the timeless feel to the trees and the land. But I could not appreciate it. There was so much magic, so much age and so much power concentrated in this land. It made me feel uneasy as if at any moment that power would rise up and destroy everything in its path.
We had been walking for a few minutes with Saphira trailing behind us when Arya suddenly stopped. A thin beam of sunlight broke through the leaves and illuminated her face as she turned to look at us. "Tread softly all of you for now...now you enter my world."
I met her gaze squarely, "Then lead on Arya Drottning," I said evenly. "For we have not journeyed all this way to turn away."
No, said Saphira from behind us. Her words seemed to hold a challenge as if she was daring Arya to turn away from the path. We cannot and will not turn away from this fate.
Arya merely nodded her face inscrutable. "Then let us continue."
So we did. Until, in a sudden burst of bright light, an elf appeared before us. The sudden arrival of this powerful, noble and inscrutable elf made me freeze mid-step. My first reaction, quickly suppressed, was draw my sword but I managed to quell it in favor of merely examining this elf. He was garbed in flowing white robes that were so pristine it made it hard to look at him because of the reflection. A circlet of silver rested on his brow and it was nearly the same color as his bright silver hair that glinted in the light that surrounded him.
"Eragon," murmured Arya. "Show him your palm."
Eragon stepped forward and raised his right hand so that the silvery mark of the gedwey ignasa was visible. The elf smiled. The smile sent shooting warmth through me for it was so kind and so welcoming that one could not help but want to smile right back.
It was my turn. Before leaving Tronjheim Brom had entrusted me with a ring, not Aren, but one of similar design with an identical mark. The ring, left in Ajihad's care in case a need for it arouse, was given to me when I accepted the responsibility of ambassador to the elves. The sapphire with its etched mark was set in silver that was also engraved with runes in the Ancient Language.
As the elf turned to look at me I inclined my head in recognition and drew the ring from an inner pocket. It was too large for my slim fingers and I disliked wearing rings - they had only ever cut my hands when I used my bow or sword. The elf smiled, closed his eyes, and raised his arms as if to both bless us and to welcome us. He held the posture until, with another bright illumination of light, he vanished like mist in the sunlight.
"The way is clear," said Arya and with that we continued forward. As we walked forward I felt as if I passed through a slightly resistant, almost hard, invisible barrier. For a brief second it was almost hard to take a step forward but as soon as I did the feeling disappeared and I almost wondered if I had imagined it.
Who is he? asked Saphira.
"Gilderien the Wise, Prince of House Miolandra, wielder of the White Flame of Vandil, and guardian of Ellesmera since the days of Du Fyrn Skulblaka, out war with the dragons. None may enter the city unless he permits it."
It was not far beyond that that the forest thinned and breaks started to appear within the canopy, allowing planks of mottled sunlight to filter through. Then we passed underneath two burled trees that leaned against each other and stopped at the edge of an empty glade.
It was like stepping into a florist shop. Flowers were everywhere and in every shape, color and smell you could possibly imagine. To the right, a stream flowed along filling the air with its merry sound of chuckling water. A pair of squirrels chased each other around a rock. The entire place felt too perfect - too unreal - as if, in an effort to protect nature, the elves had made things just too right. There was nothing that had not been touched by magic and, while it was not the same as covering everything with stone and metal, one could not say it was truly a forest. It was a forest that had been tampered with and I found myself longing for a breath of air that was free of this power. To see any imperfection or flaw to reassure myself that it was real.
As I gazed at the trees that surrounded the clearing I was able to pick out the shapes of buildings. At first glance one could mistake them for unusually shaped trees but, like a lens settling into place, it suddenly came into focus. What had been an unusual growth on the side of pine became a two story house with graceful windows and arched doors.
After that...well one suddenly realized that you were actually surrounded by houses. Each one unique and enhanced so that it blended into the rest of the forest until it was impossible to tell where one tree ended and another began. All of the houses were graceful with balconies, arched windows and tear dropped shaped windows. They seemed impossible architecturally - too light and too unstable but I had no doubt that they were.
Hidden beside many of the houses were little bowers and pavilions were flameless lanterns hung brightly. Those little bowers must be the location of midnight feasts or the gathering of elves for a healthy little debate. Nothing seemed real anymore reader. I felt like I had just stepped into a fairy kingdom and all it needed was a Tinkerbell and Peter Pan to complete it.
The inhabitants of this city eventually revealed themselves as a flicker of movement at the fringe of my sight. The only sign that they were there was the occasional rustle of a pine cone on the ground or a brief snatch of brightly colored fabric as the elf vanished in the shadows. To know that they were following us but being unable to see them made me uncomfortable. So far, this city and its forest only made me feel uneasy and watched.
One by one, the wary elves stepped into view as we continued onwards. Their slanted eyes never left our small party.
It was easy to see, when confronted with so many elves, why they were called the Fair Folk. They were fair indeed with their pale, perfect faces and that faint glow that hung around each and every one of them. They all possessed the same delicate beauty that belied their unbreakable strength and fierce passion. Some had raven hair, some had silver that glinted like polished steel and some were golden haired. Each and every one of them moved so gracefully and with such languid ease that, when combined with everything else, they became all the more unearthly.
Compared to them I felt clumsy and dull. I felt like the new girl at school who knows no one and feels inadequate in every single category when compared to the others. Only, in this situation, I could never forget that I was inferior. I hated the feeling and it made me raise my chin as if defying those perfect beings to pity me for my mortal body and life. Let them find out that I was no child, no weakling that they could scorn. With unconscious ease I slipped in the crown princess and shed the girl called Zoe. Princess Zoe gave me a sense of security because she did not know self-doubt or fear and so I walked forward with new determination.
It was then that the elves bowed from the waist, smiling and laughing with unrestrained happiness as they did so. From within their midst, a woman cried out in song:
Gala O Wydra brunhvitr,
Abr Berundal vandr-fodhr,
Burthro laufsbladar ekar undir,
Eom kona dauthleikr...
The music washed over me like cool water. It was very beautiful but I hardened my heart towards it. Experience had taught me that when music such as this was sung by someone gifted with great power that one should never loose themselves to it. I may have accepted the magic of this forest into myself and grown stronger because of it but that did not mean I wanted this magic to sweep me away.
As we followed Arya along a cobblestone path set with bits of green tourmaline, which lopped among the hollyhocks and the houses and the trees before finally crossing a stream, the song only grew stronger. The elves danced around our little party as we walked to and they seem to flit like birds from one branch to another as they did so. They praised Saphira with names like "Longclaws" and "Daughter of Air and Fire" and "Strong One."
I glanced quickly at Eragon to see how he was taking all of this. The Rider's eyes shone with wonder but he was managing to retain an impassive expression. He had not completely lost himself to the magic and the enchanting beauty of the elves - or at least not yet. I would have to watch him and make sure he kept both feet on the ground. Saphira herself looked very pleased to be complimented so - the dwarves had barely tolerated her but here...here she was a treasure that should be held up to sky and admired by all.
It was then that the path ended. As we paused in front of a net of roots that formed steps, we all settled our minds. Arya moved up the steps first and then I did with Eragon and Saphira taking up the end.
The stairs ended and we stood in front of a door made of gleaming wood upon which was engraved a flowering tree that seemed to both guard and welcome. It had been set within a wall of saplings and there was no handle just smooth wood. As we reached it the door swung open of its own accord, and revealed a hall of trees.
My first impression of this audience chamber, this throne room, was that it seemed as if I had never left the outside world to come inside. The ceiling was made of hundred of branches and vines with bright flowers bursting with color twisted and twined their way up the trunks and across the ceiling. The Hall was filled with light. The floor was stone but it did not feel unnatural here nor did it feel like the way the stone laid by men or dwarves does - this was not cutting out nature but rather part of it. If Ellesmera was a testament to the elves skill with magic then this Hall was the very pinnacle of that achievement.
At the end of the chamber there was twenty four chairs. Twelve chairs to each side of throne of knotted roots.
In those chairs reposed four-and-twenty elf lords and ladies.
These ancient, powerful beings were dressed in robes of shifting colors that were finer than anything one could find in the mortal world. Their faces were wise and unmarked with age though one could see the many years they had lived just by looking at their eyes which swirled with countless years of knowledge of and power.
Now, as we entered, those eyes glinted with barely contained excitement. They leaned forward, gripping the arms of their chairs and staring at us with open wonder and hope. It was then that I noticed the weapons they carried. Swords set with bright gems, gleaming bows etched with silver and the occasional brightly polished spear.
But my attention went to the throne and its occupant. For there, in a dress of crimson girded with braided gold, sat the Queen. She was beautiful, almost painfully so, with midnight hair bound back by a diamond diadem and a proud, almost imperious, face. By her left hand was a curved rod with a chased crosspiece. The brilliant white raven, Blagden, perched on it, shuffling impatiently from foot to foot. He surveyed us with an almost, dare I say it, disappointed air.
Despite her delicate beauty that put every other elf to shame, there was nothing fragile about the Queen. Like mother, like daughter, I thought grimly. Her gaze was heavy, I could feel it almost as if it had a physical weight to it. As she gazed down at me, at my companions, I felt that part of me that feared the dark and spiders, quiver and run for cover. The other part of me, the part that stubbornly defiant and schooled by countless years of etiquette, would not let me cower nor would my own pride. So I met that gaze challenging and without reserve.
As we walked forward and stopped in front of that council, Islanzadi stood and descended from the throne. The black cloak she wore, trailed behind her as she stopped before Arya who bowed low as she twisted her hand over her chest.
The Queen seemed hesitant, her hand trembled slightly as, with great care, she placed it on her daughter's narrow shoulders. In a painfully soft voice, she said, "Rise." Arya did and the two stared at the other for a long moment.
I wished I could have offered Arya something but I could not. In this matter she was alone and I could only wait and watch. At last Islanzadi cried out and embraced Arya, saying, "I my daughter, I have wronged you!"
I will admit reader, I had to contain my derisive snort. Wronged her? She had cut her daughter to the core and no desperate apology or plea for forgiveness could erase the pain her rejection had caused Arya.
As I gazed at the Queen and her daughter, I couldn't help but remember my mother. She to had sat upon a throne and sat upon it during difficult times but she had been no Islanzardi. My mother had been beautiful and a powerful enchantress but she had never been imperious. Stern maybe, unforgiving of foolish pranks or acts but never imperious or cold. My mother was the one people went to when they needed a sympathetic but impartial ear. I would have much rather faced her, even if I had been in trouble, than this fairy queen.
She knew they were coming. The distant song that filtered through into the Hall was merely a confirmation. She had known they were coming when they first entered her kingdom and that, by dragon back, it would take them less than two days to reach her.
Now...now they approached. She could almost see her daughter, walking ahead of the Rider and his dragon, with her face set and her stride purposeful. The time was drawing near for her to confront her daughter and the events that had separated them for nigh on a century.
Queen Islanzadi shifted ever so slightly on her throne. The other Lords and Ladies were silent, sensing that nothing they said or did could ease the situation. She almost wished they were not here - her family matters were not something she wished to be so public...but, like so many times before, she had to sacrifice that because of her responsibilities as Queen.
Now she could sense them at the door, the door was opening and there they were.
Arya was, as she had imagined, first to enter the Hall. Walking forward with her chin held definatly and her shoulders thrown back she looked so like her father that the Queen had force back a choked breathe. Yet, the more she looked at her the more it became obvious: Her daughter was changed. The Queen felt it with a sharp pang of grief and sorrow. No longer did those verdant eyes glitter with warmth and joy, no longer did she step upon the ground with light carefree movements nor did she smile when their eyes met.
This was what she had done.
She could linger over the situation for another century - from her anger at Arya's choice, the grief at her husband's death, the brief and cold meetings that followed and her own indescribable sorrow at the news of her daughter's death. The Queen hated that a part of herself was glad that Arya had suffered for her choice - her refusal to listen to her mother - but that part was drowned out by her desire to once again speak and comfort her only child. Evandar would not have wanted this and neither did his queen. But it was her fault...
It took every ounce, every bit of her self discipline and determination not to run to her daughter, sweep her into her arms like she had when Arya was little, kiss her and soothe away all her worries and fears. Her instinct to comfort her child, like any mother would have done, was so strong she could not ignore it. But now, after the way she had betrayed her daughter, there was no way that method would work now.
Forcing her gaze to the others who walked behind her daughter, the Queen caught her first glimpse of the Rider and the sapphire blue dragon. The boy, for he was a boy in age, had a reserved look to him. His eyes, however, betrayed his outward calm as they sparkled with curiosity and wonder. She noted, with distaste, the red sword of Morzan that he carried at his hip. The Queen also noted the ease with which he carried the sword - that he was used to handling it and the bow slung across his back was obvious.
The dragon who towered above him was beautiful. No wonder her people had sung of her as she made her way through the city. Her scales were a brilliant blue, her gaze intelligent and sharp. A glow of warm hope and joy grew within the hardened elven queen. This was why her daughter had left, this was why so many had died and so much had been sacrificed and, now that she saw the dragon hatched and growing, she understood why.
It was then that she saw the girl. A young woman whose cool grey-blue eyes were watching her. As Islanzardi met that gaze she sensed the guarded mind and a hidden power that made her uneasy. Who was she? wondered the queen. She dressed like no mortal woman and her weapons were of such beautiful make and quality that Islanzardi doubted that any mortal smith had made them. Not only that but she held her gaze without flinching or cowering like so many mortals would have done.
However, the mysterious fourth companion would have to wait. So would the Rider and the blue dragon. Her court would have to wait as well. It was time for the Queen to mend a torn relationship and hope, as hard she had ever hoped, that she was not too late.
Hi you guys! Here is another one...we are getting to that exciting bit! :)
Again: Thank you to my lovely readers and everyone who has reviewed. It is very inspiring to see how many people have read and, hopefully, enjoyed this story!