"Kvetha Fricäya."
Islanzadi watched the group of six, her eyes glittering. A cloak of the softest, snow white fur adorned her shoulders, clasped at the throat with a red stone. Blagden rested on her arm.
"Greetings once again, Eragon Shadeslayer," the elf queen said, her voice managing to be both soft and powerful at the same time. "Greetings, Saphira Brightscales."
Eragon bowed. "Atra esterní ono thelduin."
"Mor'ranr lífa unin hjarta onr,"
"Un du evarínya ono varda," Eragon finished. "We thank you for this welcome."
Islanzadí nodded, then turned to Súndavar. "And your name, Rider?"
"Súndavar Eddyrheart, your highness."
Islanzadí pursed her lips. "Your name is a blessing and a curse. It taints your identity, yet warns you of what you must avoid becoming. Well met, Súndavar. And you, dragon?"
Slate, replied the young dragon, for once all the joking and immaturity gone. I have not a name after.
"He means—"
"I know what he means," Islanzadí interrupted, not kindly. "Well met, Slate."
Shay stepped forward, bowing deeply. "I am Shay Everwood, formerly Captain Shay of King Orrin's Elite."
"Again, well met. Daughter, you have not greeted me."
Arya blinked, then touched two fingers to her lips. "Kvetha."
Islanzadí smiled regally. "I am aware of the fact that it is late, and you must be tired. However, I ask that you dine with me and my court."
Food! Slate yelped. He wiggled his tail in excitement.
Saphira flicked him in the head with her wingtip. Behave yourself, Slate.
Islanzadí laughed, a sound like trickling water. "Yes, dragon. Food indeed."
oooooooooooooooooooooo
They sat around the large table, which was set with all sorts of dishes of fruit and vegetables and bread. Slate and Saphira were both given a warm pie. Slate eyed his hungrily, yellow eyes wide.
Food, he said longingly.
Islanzadí raised her glass. "I toast Saphira Brightscales and Slate. May your claws stay sharp and your scales always shine."
"May they," intoned the group sitting around the table.
Eragon picked up a fork, digging into the dish in front of him. Back with the Varden, there were very few dishes that weren't made from meat. He had been getting very tired of salad and bread.
Súndavar eyed the food hesitantly. "Um…"
Shay opened her mouth to explain that elves don't eat meat, then snapped it shut again. She still wasn't talking to Súndavar, after the Vanir comment he had made earlier. Might as well let him make a fool of himself.
Slate bit into his pie, swallowing. He paused. Food tastes good. But different.
"It tastes different because it does not contain meat, Slate," Islandzadí explained. "Elves eat only fruitage of the ground. We do not wish to cause pain to the creatures who share this earth with us."
Súndavar frowned. "Excuse me, your highness. With all due respect, if this is true, how can you justify wearing fur?"
Islanzadí smiled at the question. "You are perceptive. Elves usually do not wear the skins of other animals. However, this fur was a gift to me by the she-wolf it came from."
Súndavar looked thoughtful, then nodded. "I see. Thank you for explaining that to me." he took a bite of the vegetable dish.
Islanzadí scanned the group. "We turn to the matter of the sleeping girl you have brought," she said.
Eragon cleared his throat. "Her name is Rune."
"Who is she bound to?" Islanzadi asked, taking a delicate bite.
"I," Eragon answered. "Her soul sleeps in my heart."
Súndavar mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like 'but her body in my arms'. Both Islanzadí and Shay had enough foresight to make no comments.
The elf queen smiled. "There are chambers enough for her in Tialdarí Hall, if that is where you wish her to be. I look forward to meeting her, when and if she awakens."
"She will," Eragon said firmly.
Rune wouldn't want to sleep in a castle, Saphira told him through her pie. She never wanted special treatment. Even rooming with us made her...more visible than she wanted.
Eragon nodded. That is true.
"Both I and she within me thank you for the offer," Eragon said, "But…I think I'll take care of where she will be put myself."
Súndavar glared at him, flicking a piece of broccoli at Eragon with a fork. It hit Eragon in the head.
Shay restrained a laugh. Arya did not look amused.
"Control yourselves, both of you," she commanded. "Your petty squabbling over Rune-vira will get you no where."
"You address her as vira," Islanzadí commented. "I have not heard that title from your lips for a very long time, daughter."
"I have not had someone to give such a title to for a very long time either," Arya countered.
Blagden flapped his wings, taking to the air circling Slate's head in dizzy circles.
The dragon snapped at him, missing by inches. Blagden gave a cackling laugh. Súndavar snorted smoke at him.
Blagden laughed again, darting around the weak trickle of smoke.
"Roots and boughs,
who can know
which is which
or how they grow?"
Eragon laughed. "There he goes with another nonsense verse." But in his heart, something pulled. Maybe this verse wasn't as nonsense as he thought. However, he could decipher no meaning.
Súndavar frowned at the words, raising one eyebrow. "The bird speaks?"
"Only in riddles and verses," Eragon explained, being rewarded with a glare from Súndavar.
"I didn't ask you, Argetlam," the boy snapped.
"Calm yourselves," Arya said tightly.
Shay glanced Vanir's way. His eyes were laughing. He obviously favored Súndavar over Eragon, and seemed to enjoy the younger Rider having the last word. He caught her looking and frowned, turning away.
Shay rolled her eyes. Vanir was an idiot. She had come to accept that. And yet…
They finished the meal, Arya occasionally having to snap at both Eragon and Súndavar. Islanzadí ignored their fighting with a casual and understanding eye. Shay realized that it wasn't much different from her own story with Lycona and Evandar. No wonder the queen didn't become angry.
"Come, Shay," Islanzadí bid. "There are chambers for you in Tialdarí Hall. Arya, escort Súndavar and Eragon to their own chambers, if you would."
Arya nodded, striding briskly away, not glancing behind her to see if the Riders followed.
Slate gave a final puff of smoke at Blagden, before following the princess.
Shay's room was small and modest, but comfortable. She was asleep the moment her head hit her pillow.
ooooooooooooooooooooooo
Eragon laid Rune on the ground. He clasped her hands over her, laying her hair – which had been braided tightly by Shay – over her shoulder. The elves had provided a dress for her, which was beautifully embroidered and wonderfully made, in colors of reds and browns. It accented her form exquisitely.
Shay had dressed Rune, before giving her to Eragon. Eragon knew where he wanted her to lay in her slumber.
The Menoa tree stretched upwards – seemingly endless. It's boughs were strong, and Eragon knew he could feel that Rune was safe beneath it. He reached out to touch the tree's conscience.
Take care of her, he told it. There was no reply, but a pleasant thrum emanated from the tree. Eragon patted it's massive trunk, marveling again at how tiny he felt beneath it.
Walking away, Eragon smiled. Soon, Rune, he told her, wherever she was. Soon you will be restored.