I do not own the Inheritance Cycle.
Edited 1/30/22
Please let me know your thoughts throughout the story, I'd love to hear for you :)
Enjoy,
Farthen Dûr
After a restless night, Rose woke well before the sun. She knew she was exhausted, her body ached still of the many leagues she had crossed, but she could not sleep. For a time, she had tossed and turned restless in her bed, before at last getting to her feet. She threw on a tunic and slipped out the cavern, leaving Thorn slumbering behind with his head tucked under his wing. Her footsteps echoed dully back to her from the walls, sounding unnaturally loud in the still darkness.
A half covered lamp had been left the entrance, a token to keep the night shadows from becoming overpowering, and after uncovering it, she seated herself to overlook the outskirts of the sleeping city below. The air was cool and soundless. Rare, muffled sounds drifted, seeming all the louder in stillness and quiet. Above no crowding of stars blazing in the moonless sky could be seen. The stone tenting of Farthen Dûr cast a mirage of skylessness that intensified as the night waned. Gradually, tiny blossoms of light bloom from below, one or two at first until the crisscrossing streets and low roofed homes appeared more like a valley filled with ruby and silver glowing florets. As the city began to wake she thought about going back to sleep but could not find the energy, and so she sat and watched, until Thorn awoke and called her back. It was only then that she stood, with the lamp in hand, and returned the cave.
Inside she dragged all of her items out from her packs, and looked them over. Everything she owned was so dilapidated and covered with a fine layer of dust, and she did not feel like wearing any of the traveling clothes. For a long moment she stared at the rich blue and dark silver dress with a sudden piquant sadness, it was not a luxury she could afford. Not when she knew it was more than likely that she would be practicing swordplay and not lounging in the libraries. And, she thought that it was probable that Brom would find a way to ruin anything lovely. With a last glance at the dress, she dressed in a simply embroidered, green tunic and dark leggings, and wet her hair in a basin atop a small wooden stool before she began brushing through the tingled mess. She did not braid her hair, or tie it back but allowed it to tumble freely down her back. If nothing else, she would allow herself this indulgence. After running her fingers through her hair for good measure, she walked towards the entrance, and as a second thought, returned to her belongings to grab a strip of torn fabric. In that moment she wished, as she had many times over the last months, for a ribbon.
She was still thinking of this when she met Eragon and Saphira at the Dragonhold's edge. Her brother greeted her with a yawn, and after wishing him a good morning she climbed silently onto Thorn's back and waited for him to take off. After a short moment he and Saphira flew to the gates of the city without much notice towards a square near the city gates- it was still too early for many people to have wondered out of their beds. Brom was waiting there, his expression hidden within his beard and his arm crossed over his chest. When they landed, he remained unmoved, until Eragon called out an enthusiastic greeting.
"Humph," greeted Brom in return. He looking them over sternly, and then waved for them to follow him into the city.
Rose slid from Thorn's back and glanced at him, biting slightly at her bottom lip. He seems to be a rather ill mood, she told the dragon.
Thorn snorted, and flicked his tail, his narrowed eyes remaining on the gates. It would seem so, he said. Have you decided on anything?
She merely looked at the dragon, determining already to disregard his question. I shall see you later on today, Thorn. Keep out of trouble until that times comes.
I could say the very same to you, he said, turning away from the gates and spreading his wings. He nearly clipped her shoulder. Rose quickly dodged away, covering her ears, as he loudly jumped into the air and returned to the crest of the city. As Saphira flew to join him, she turned to Eragon and found that he was watching the dragons vanish from sight. She withdrew her hands, relaxing them at her sides, and stepped towards the opened gates, casting him a quizzical look when he remained.
"I don't like being away from Saphira so much," he explained, catching the meaning of her gaze. "It doesn't feel right that I have to keep sending her away, and she doesn't like it either."
"Then you should not keep her waiting longer than you must," Rose said, stepping into the city.
Brom was quite a ways ahead of them, but he took a now familiar path and neither Rose nor Eragon needed to led to know where they were headed. The early morning left the halls of Tronjheim silent and empty and they passed only a few people. When they came to the staircase hidden in shadows, Rose's mind was on what Eragon's words and found that she agreed quite a lot on what he stated. After the months of travel, she was accustomed to Thorn's consent presence and found it rather peculiar whenever she turned and found that he was not there. She thought also that perhaps she had come to rely far too much on his company.
They reached the balcony before too long, though the stairs were no more appealing than before, and walked silently to the propped open door. Eragon went in first, his steps very eager, and after a moment of catching her breath Rose followed. Inside, Selena was seated at the table drinking deeply from a steaming cup of tea, and Brom was standing behind a chair next to hers, looking as if he had bitten into something unpleasant.
"Shut the door behind you," Selena called out, setting the mug on table, "and come and join us. There is something we must discuss."
Rose pulled the wooden stool from the doorway, and after setting it down, she examined the food on the table. The table was laden with boiled wild oats, cheese, and a kind of flat bread she had never seen before, and mugs filled hazardously to the rim with steaming tea. The simple smell of it made her feel very hallow and unsteady very fast. Her mouth filled with water. And she prayed that the food was superior to the meal the night before- she doubted that she could skip eating anything today. She was famished.
After seating herself between Brom and Eragon, she picked up the mug and breathed in the smell of mint and chamomile. She sipped from it, as the others served theirselves, and then took as much as she dared to pile onto her plate. She had to force herself not to shove all of the food into her mouth at once but to eat slowly but even so she tasted none of it and ached for a second serving.
Once the food on the plates was cleared away and the dishes set in a pile at the corner of the table, Brom placed his hands on the top its painted surface. He studied an iris for a time and then looked up. "Now that we're all filled to bursting we must talk," he said and then glanced at Selena before sighing.
"Is this about what we spoke of last night?" asked Eragon, leaning forward in his seat. He looked between the two with a deep frown.
"Yes, boy," said Brom, sharply. "That's exactly what we would be talking about if you did not keep interrupting."
As Eragon looked down at his hands, as Rose peered at him inquisitively. What had Selena pulled Eragon aside for? she wondered, thinking of how brisk the woman had been when the woman sent her away the night before. Rose folded her hands over the mug, reserving its heat, and sat back slightly to watch them- but for a time everyone was completely silent. Surely whatever conversation was coming was about what they had talked about.
But for a time no one said anything and that silence continued.
"By the gods, Brom! If you do not speak then I will," Selena said sharply, and rather suddenly the silence was broken.
Brom leaned forward in his seat and turned his attention to Rose. "Your mother wanted to pull you aside and speak to you privately on this matter but I believe that it's best for all us to come together and talk," he said. "All of us need to be on the same grounding. And while, unfortunately Thorn and Saphira are too large to fit in this room and I do not trust the dragonhold, you two should be in constant contact with them so it shouldn't be too much of a problem."
Rose leaned farther into the backing of her chair, and Thorn hummed within her mind. She was in a simple mindtouch with him- so long as either of them felt that complete privacy was needed and broke it. It had become a habit when they were traveling, and a precaution Thorn had instanced on after the unfortunate events in Culdaff. She said nothing about it aloud but took another sip of tea.
Across the table, Selena looked at Brom pointedly, her fingers tapping impatiently on the table's surface. "What we must talk about is a misunderstanding," she said briskly when Brom said nothing. "I had thought I made it more than obvious when I told you, Rose, of my past but I guess I had not. So I'm going to be very direct: Rose, Morzan is your father while your brother Eragon was fathered by Brom."
She looked at the woman, and took another sip from the cup. Her hands were shaking and some tea dripped onto her lap. After a short pause she said, "And you are certain of this?"
"Considering that Morzan refused to take me to bed after I told I was carrying his child nearly three years before then, yes, I am."
Rose choked on her tea and quickly turned away, her face burning. She coughed violently into her hands. There was a tense silence, save for her coughing and the scraping sounds as someone moved back their chair and walked away. After a time when she dared to look back up, her face very red, and saw that Brom had gotten up to clean off the table and Eragon was studying the paintings on the table with intense interest. After a short moment he too stood to help with the dishes, and Rose was tempted to get and follow after him.
But she did not.
No, instead, Rose turned and eyed the woman next to her cautiously. She silently prayed that the woman would say her no more on the subject. "I would rather not have ever known about that," she said.
"It's only the truth. And besides you have yet to challenge it."
"Merely because it a conversation that should never be had!" But as she voiced this, Rose realized that Selena knew this and that is very reason it had been said. The woman had wanted no arguments, certainly no questions, and Rose shuttered to think what else she might say if she voiced dispute. "Is there anything more you wish to share or do you believe that we have heard enough inspiration for our night terrors?"
Selena gave her a measured look before take a sip of her tea. "That is enough I should think," she said setting the cup on the table. She stood up. "Now, if you three do not mind, I must go. I'm running late and the day has hardly begun!"
A quick good-bye was spoken by Brom, before Selena left, and as soon as the door shut behind her, Rose stood and assisted the men on cleaning. It took little time, much of it had already been cleaned before she joined them, and soon everything was placed where it belonged- Brom had to tell Eragon and Rose where the dishes belonged. When they finished Brom looked them over sternly, and led them out of the city to a part of the outskirts they had not seen- to a large courtyard surrounded by sinister-looking low building, which was only accessible through a locked gate. Here the buildings stood close together and over everything was a hostility that the rest of Farthen Dûr did not possess.
Brom shut and locked the gate behind them before facing them. He took a long moment to study the Riders, and then sighed. "There is much that you need to know," he said. "Normally as Riders you would be well into your instruction by now but these are no ordinary times and you are not ordinary as far as Riders go." He looked between the two siblings, and slowly pulled a pipe out of a pocket. He did not light it but ran his fingers over the surface. "And each of you are in very different places as far as that training goes. I think that all of us will train together each morning, and in the afternoon I will work with only one of you, and the next day the other. I will set research or tasks for the other to do while I instruct. There might be days when you both will learn the same thing."
Eragon nodded, stepping away from the buildings he was examining, and looking inquisitorially at the man. "I know that there is a lot we don't know, but what will we be learning?" he asked.
Brom frowned and scratched his chin with the end of this pipe. "That depends on the person," he said. "For example, I know Rose knows more about Alagaësia's history and legislation than you, while you know more of the Ancient Language and how to wield it. There's much to work on, and I plan on getting the two of you close to the same place."
"And when we have achieved this, what shall happen then?" asked Rose, clasping her hands in front of her. She had intended on listened silently but found this question's persistence rising up inside her to be overwhelming. She wished to know what was planned for her, and whether she had a say in any of it. "Shall we continue learning under you, or travel elsewhere to learn from another?"
"You will likely go elsewhere," he said, giving her a hard look. "I can only teach you what I know which isn't as much as it should be."
She frowned at him. He knew much more than he was willing to say, to acknowledge. She wondered briefly about the reasons he held that prevented him from telling Eragon about his past as a Dragon Rider- or perhaps he already has, she did not know. Had the war damaged him so much that he was unwilling to voice what once was, what is now lost? His words from the day before echoed in her mind- Listen to me when I tell you that you do not want anything to happen to Thorn. It will leave you feeling like you have nothing left in this world, as if you have died and not the other way around.
Rose turned around and glanced at Thorn- who had landed beside her moments before with Saphira in tow- his red scales dark in the shadows. After a short moment, he looked down at her, a ripple of light shifted down his neck. He blinked slowly and then turned back to Brom in a silent message to listen to what the man was saying.
"A Rider is many things, a warrior and a scholar, a healer and a protector," the old man was saying. "Quite a few of the Riders had never seen the blood of battle until the Fall but all were trained in its crafts. Tomorrow we will focus on this, but today I would like to see where the two of are at." He held up his hand, stopping Eragon as he began to speak. "I know how well you can wield a sword, boy, but I haven't seen either of spar in a month and even that amount of time can make a difference between falling out of practice or improvement."
Eragon slowly nodded and pulled out his sword from his belt, enchanting its edges under his breath. When he was done his eyes turned to Rose and she wordlessly handed him her own blade. As she stepped back, she pulled her hair back from her face and tied it with the scrap of fabric. When done she looked up at Brom and found him watching her. He did not look away when their eyes met but nodded faintly and took a step back.
"Are we facing each other, or you?" asked Eragon turning to the old man as well.
"You aren't sparring with me," Brom said. "I'm going to watch for today but in a few weeks that might change."
Eragon nodded and turned to Rose. "Ready?"
Once she agreed, they faced each other and went through their paces. As it often happened when they sparred, Eragon was first to disarm Rose, and though she fought to avenge herself, she could not gain the advantage. She was very aware of Brom's chilling gaze on her, and her mind kept flickering back to the conversation the night before. The choice before her and path she knew she must take, however begrudgingly she would walk it.
Just when Rose thought she could not take another beating, Brom called them to a halt, and her brother fixed her with a questioning look that she ignored. Instead she handed him her blade, and after he stripped it of the protection spell, she put it away.
As she did, Brom pulled over a large chest and called them over. Inside was a pile of tarnished armor and leather braces. He spent the rest of the day explaining what each piece was and how to put it on, making them do so at one point though Rose found the armor to be ill fitting and cumbersome. He told them as they pulled the metal off, that they would be measured for a set of their own. This set a deep frown on Rose's face.
Not long after the armor was returned to the chest, did they work their way to the home opposite the gate and into the large chamber. In the middle of the room was a large stone stab, like a table, which was covered with piles of volumes, loose paper, crystal bottle of ink, carved wood and metal pens, a pale brown and yellow knitted throw, and a single lantern. Its light blooming softly on the intricate carvings of runes and tiny figures that were covered the stone table.
Rose stopped involuntarily at the threshold and took a long look around the room, squinting into the shadows. Here the sense of watchfulness was almost overwhelming; it seemed to emanate from the very stone. However there was nothing here save for the crumbling painting and ancient dust and the white fungi that covered the covers of the room. She sighed and made her way to the wooden bench that had been tucked beneath the stone slab. Brom and Eragon were standing around it, Eragon shifting through the book while Brom shook off the coverlet. Not knowing what else to do, Rose pulled out the bench and seated herself upon it, before looking out the doorway towards a quick shifting movement. There Thorn and Saphira were peaking in, a large blue eye blinking in front of the archway and a red one shifting from a small window, their heads far too large to fit through the small opening itself.
Rose blinked twice at red eye, and after a moment's pause it blinked back. She looked away, smiling lightly and ran her fingers over the titles of a few of the books; The Antediluvian Histories; a Tale of Alagaësia, The Sound of Poetry, Meadowland: The Private Life of Palancar, Forgotten Tales from the People of Old, A History of Ancient Geography, Beyond the East. Her hand stilled and then she carefully removed the last book from its wedging, her eyes searching for the name of the author not a moment after the cool leather hit her palm.
She found none.
"No one knows who wrote that book," said a graveling voice beside her. "Some say long ago that it just showed up."
"Someone had to write it," piped Eragon, seating himself on the other side of Brom. "Books don't just show up."
"The creator's name has likely been forgotten or the person that wrote it did not wish for anyone to know of them," said Rose after a moment. She place the book back in its place and folded her hands onto her lap, however her eyes remained on the neat, dark lettering carved into its spine. "There are a number of similar books at the palace library. Much of these books contain controversy poems or tales, and sometimes a good number of both."
"I take it that you've read them," said Brom, placing two sheets of parchment between him and Eragon and then he handed the boy a silver pen.
Rose's face heated. "I've read a great deal of things," she said pulling the strap of fabric from hair and ran her fingers through the tingles, watching as Eragon stared at the pen he held awkwardly between his fingers and then the papers as if he could find some help there. She frowned.
Brom merely nodded at her words, and turned his attention away from her. "It's for writing not staring it," he said to Eragon before showing him how to properly hold it. "Today we'll work on your lettering." Then he instructed Eragon through writing the alphabet, none too patiently in Rose's option. At first Eragon could not use the pen at all but after a time deformed markings appeared onto the parchment.
Rose turned away, her mind shifting to the dusty, candle lit room she had spent many sun filled afternoons barred inside, forced through lesson after lesson of penmanship and reading. Her tutor's, a balding, squinting eyed man named Josue, low and monotone voice filled the air uninterrupted save for the crackling laugh of the fire. A fire that she had always believed was unnecessary, it made the room far too hot when sun was already trying to boil the world. Stuck inside that room she used to wonder if he was trying to cook her, like what the Planak to the naughty children in the tales that Cordelia told her...
She frowned and pushed the memory away. It had been quite some years since she last thought of Josue and his sweltering room. Her eyes settled again on the toppling pile of books before she began to sort through them. There were some, a very few, that were written in language she could not read- these she set off to the far end of the table. After quite some time, she asked to leave and the moment Brom allowed it, she hurried Thorn to the Dragon Hold.
For the rest of that evening she went through her processions and organized them, painstakingly finding them a temporary home as she tried to make the cave feel less like just that: a cave. As nighttime took over and lanterns were lit, Eragon came in offering a plate of food explaining that she missed supper and so he brought her a plate. Rose thanked him, though she had been munching on the leftover traveling food throughout the evening, intent on avoiding Selena as long as possible.
"I thought that you were sick of this stuff," Eragon told her, picking up the half empty bag of dried berries and looked over the mess she had made. Clothes were laying in a small heap on the ground by her bed hovel as she sorted through them, and small trinkets and her voil were laying on the mattress itself, a broken bottle of ink lay forgotten in the middle of the floor, its silky black ink already staining the stone beneath it. "You should have joined us, Sel- our mother had some of her friends over. Jannet, the lady that our mother gets her bread from, cooked some of the best food I've ever tasted. It was a lot better than what we had last night."
Rose eyed small platter he set on her bed and frowned. "That does not promise much," she told him. "It's Ailis here, Eragon."
Eragon nodded running his fingers over the soft wood of her voil and glanced up at her. "I didn't know that you played an instrument," he said. "This could have made a couple of nights go by a lot quicker."
She sighed, and turned away from him and the viol. "I don't."
"Did it belong to Tornac?"
"Tornac could not keep a tune to save his life," she said with a short laugh. "It belongs to me. I used to play some time ago but I no longer do." Rose shook her head, and waved the subject away. "Do not worry yourself over it."
Eragon remained silent but Rose could practically feel his frown. After a long and silent moment he excused himself and left without another comment. As he left Rose walked over to the food and looked it over before she sat herself on the bed and ate silently.
Thorn eyed her narrowly, his tail swishing noisily across the floor. Silently, he seemed to say, When did you stop playing?
Rose eyed him, answering with an even look: You know when.
He grumbled from deep within his chest, and she grabbed the nearest tunic and tossed it at him.
The next few weeks were taken up by the same routine: swordplay in the morning and a grimly comic sessions with Brom midmorning to late afternoon, and whether that day dedicated to teaching either Rose or Eragon it always ended with them both carrying a handful of book to read sometime after supper that evening. The subject of Rose learning to use the Ancient Language did not resurface. Even so, it remained in the shadow of her mind. Each time the old man turned to Rose, immobilizing her with an unsettling and rather questioning gaze, she thought that he might bring it up and demand her choice. However Brom never did. He focused instead on other matters, resuming his teaching from when they traveled, and beginning new lessons furthering their knowledge.
It soon became very clear to her that he had set aside her learning to use the Ancient Language all together to focus instead on Eragon's sorrowful lack of education. Much of the old man's time was spent on teaching the boy mathematics, history, his letters, and his knowledge on the Ancient Language- its alphabet and proper grammar and then the words of the language itself. Whenever he began speaking of this subject, he would stare at Rose evenly, a silent invitation to join them, before he began to speak.
She did not join them.
For the first few days she listened from afar, furthering her limited knowledge silently, but one day she stood up from her chair near the broken hearth and made her way to sit beside Eragon- allowing the old man her full attention. At first Brom had seemed surprised but continued after a moment's pause as if nothing had happened. From that day on the old man demanded both of their attention whenever he began to educate on the subject, at all times, leaving both of the young Riders exhausted by the end the day.
An unspoken agreement quickly took place, and though Rose listened and responded openly whenever Brom instructed in the Ancient Language he never insisted that she use it. And so whenever he would turn his focus to Eragon and put him through exercises in magic, Rose would step outside the stone building, with a mug of lavender tea and turn her attention to whatever book she had smuggled out of the library the day before. It was during one of the moments, nearly two weeks after she and Eragon and the dragons had arrived that she heard light, nearly inaudible, footsteps beside her.
Rose looked up, setting her book quickly aside, to see just who had walked so silently. The elven woman silently stared at her for a quick moment before motioning to place on the floor beside her. "Would you mind if joined you?" she asked.
"No, I would not," said Rose after a moment. She straightening herself and tucked the book under her legs. As Arya as she seated her beside her, she surveyed the elf. "I did not expect to see you so soon. Should you not be recovering?"
"I have spent enough time resting to know that I have recovered well enough to leave," said the elf. And indeed, the elf appeared to have recovered from the last time Rose had seen her; her black hair shone like silk in the torchlight, and her golden skin glowed as if it had been recently been touched by the sun, and the cuts and sores- the ones that would not heal no matter how many times Eragon muttered the words of healing at them- were gone completely leaving only smooth, unmarked skin. She appeared to be a completely different person from the sickly elf that had been carried away some nights ago. The elf looked over Rose, taking note of everything she had already taking of her. "What I do not know is what happened after I lost consciousness. This is why I came here, to request for you to tell me. And to thank you for saving my life, I know what it cost to grant me my freedom. For that I owe a debt that must be repaid."
Rose dipped her head slightly. She hid her hands within the worn fabric of her tunic, and fought the urge to look away. "I would not have dared to voyage into the towers halls were it not for a rather demanding matter," she said quietly. She did not add that she did not believe that they would ever make it out that tower nor did she that she had only offered that hand to the elf because she knew that if she hadn't she would forever be racked with guilt for leaving her behind to whatever horrible fate awaited her. "What was done, should have been done long before I came. I do accept your thanks though its unnecessary. We met by chance, I think," Rose said with a frown. She looked at her hands before turning to the elf who asked to know more of what happened after she fell into unconsciousness. Slowly, Rose began telling her of what had happened with the Shade and later when the dragons came.
The elf said nothing for a time but when Rose added nothing more, she looking around the square. "Brom has made it rather difficult for any one person to find you or your brother," she said. "The two of you are either here, a place not many would not think to look for, or the dragonhold, or elsewhere, whether it be together or with Brom but never are you with the people of the Varden."
Rose frowned at her. "How exactly did you find this place, if it is as you claim a place not many would seek?"
Arya smiled slightly. "I spoke with Thorn not long ago."
"You met Thorn?" Rose interjected. "Forgive me, I did not mean to pry however he hadn't mentioned this to me."
"I wanted to see the dragons for myself," said Arya. "I wished to thank them. I spoke with them not long ago. Our meeting was brief."
Rose doubted she was just thanking them. "You did not go through all of that trouble to merely express your gratitude," she said after a time.
"No, I did not," Ayla said. "I came here because in two days' time I'm leaving to return to Ellesmera. I wished to speak to you before I left and this is likely the only day I will have to do so."
"Ellesmera must be quite a ways from here. Are you well enough for such an excursion?"
"Elves heal much quicker than humans," Ayla stated, shifting her hair off of her shoulders. "Very little remains from my time in Gil'ead."
Rose nodded, taking in this new information. "I suppose that you shall be taking the last dragon egg along with you."
The elf began to rise and Rose followed suit. She noted with a ping that Arya was quite taller than her. "I am," said the elf. "There are other matters in Ellesmera I must attend to, as well."
"Farewell, then. I wish you the best of fortune," said Rose, "and the safest of travels."
"And I you, Rider. This is not the last we will meet. We shall see each other again but until then, farewell." Arya raised her hand to her lips making an odd gesture, before she moved to the doorway where Brom's low voice could be heard. She moved into the dim shadows and then she was gone however her voice could be heard, lithe and light, talking to the men inside.
Rose followed after a short time, and leaned slightly against the doorway as the elf began her tale of how exactly she had ended up in the Shade's domain and what had happened there and what was to come. Their conversation lasted much longer than the brief exchange between the elf and Rose. Longer still was the discussion between Arya and Brom, one that after a time, the old man demanded privacy for. Rose left without a word but Eragon stayed behind for a short time.
As Thorn landed, Eragon finally left looking disgruntled. A warning about the elf would have been nice, Rose told Thorn. I hadn't the slightest idea she was well enough to get out of bed, nonetheless come searching for me.
You're flustered. Thorn blinked at her, the ridges in his eyes shifting.
I am annoyed that you did not see fit to warn me.
The dragon's tail shifted dangerously close to her foot. She looked at it, wondering who it would hurt more if she kicked it- her or him. Likely she would be the one with a sore foot while he walk away unharmed. I did not see a need to warn you, said the dragon. The elf only wanted to have a discussion with you. But if you're going to act like this I shall tell you next time someone wants to speak with you.
Rose stared at him, her eyes narrowing. Thank you, she said after a moment. With the book in hand she began to climb onto Thorn's back. Will you tell what she said to you?
No. Thorn stood up and snaked his head towards Eragon and Saphira. I'll warn you now: Eragon will want to talk to you later.
Rose kicked him, wincing at the pain that shot up her heel. That's not what I meant, and you know it!
The dragon huffed beneath her in offence, before jumping into the air without warning and bringing down his wings with a thunderous sound.
