Thank you for all the review everyone, it sure helped clear some of my thoughts. I would like to thank you, Buddy, for reviewing. Your reviews always bring questions to my mind and it helps me write the story better. And your answer to my Arya and Fäolin question really helped me out there. But thank you, readers, for your replies. It was much appreciated. And the poll about Eragon and Arya getting together is now closed. But besides that here's another chapter! I hope you all like it! I'm so excited! I finally get to reveal some of my plot!
It did not take long for them to reach the fringe of Du Weldenvarden; it had been but two days since they left Tarnag. They had flown above the Az Ragni River which soon merged with the Edda. With every passing hour, Arya appeared tenser, Eragon noticing it with his arms wrapped around her petite form. As they made camp on the first night, he could see how tense she was, the outlines of her body rigid, straining her otherwise graceful movements. Tomorrow they would reach Du Weldenvarden and the elves that were stationed at the outpost of Ceris. Eragon did not know why she worried so much, when it was he who should be worrying. They may not know that he was Gabranth, but when he voiced that he was, they would surely hold a knife to his throat.
That was why he was wary, for one could never guess what an elf was thinking. Eragon turned his head, gazing at Arya's back as she kept watch over their camp, Murtagh and Orik sparring with one another. When asked to spar, Eragon had politely declined, fearing that his temper would take the better of him and he would end up breaking Murtagh's bones. Grabbing an apple from his pack, he stood, walking over to Arya. She did not glance up when he sat down next to her, only continued to look at the dark mass in the night sky, Du Weldenvarden. He held the apple out to her. "Eat. And then go rest, I'll keep watch."
The apple was offered to her for a full ten minutes before she reached out and grasped it with cool fingers that brushed his hand. The sound of crunching met his ears. They sat there for a while, before she finally spoke. "I'm afraid."
To say that he was surprised was an understatement. He did not know much of Arya, but he did know that she was a strong warrior and for her to be afraid gave him pause. He turned his eyes to gaze at her, and her emerald eyes stared back, bright in the darkness. "I'm afraid," she repeated, "of what might happen once I step into Du Weldenvarden. What my family might say when they see me, alive and a Dragon Rider. This uncertainty makes the fear all the more real."
Comfort her. He blinked, irritated that Saphira was eavesdropping. Begrudgingly, he took her advice. He was not accustomed to comforting others. He had never tried to make anyone happy besides his mother and Saphira. On some occasions he did so with his servants, but they were happy if he gave one small compliment. Arya was different. He did not know how, but he wanted to help her forget her fear. Eragon's hand reached out and was about to grasp hers but he settled for gripping her shoulder in a comforting way. "If it's of any comfort, to be able to admit that you are afraid makes you a strong person, Arya. I have no doubt in my mind that you can — that you will face your past and your people without hesitation."
He held his hand there for a full minute before withdrawing it. She had yet to speak, so instead, he decided to tell her what was on his mind. "I am also afraid." A breath escaped from his lips as he spoke. "That day in Tarnag had me thinking. If the dwarves reacted with that much hostility at our presence what will the elves do? Saving you and Murtagh and killing Durza does not wash away the blood that has stained my hands. It was easy to fight off the dwarves, but elves, maybe one or two but not a crowd. I'll be considered an enemy in your lands."
Her hand moved so fast, he did not realize that she had gripped his wrist until he glanced down to see the outline of it. "No, they won't, elves may be cautious but we are willing to forgive. Given enough time."
"And if they do not?"
Her grip on his wrist tightened. "Then I shall plead for your cause, as will Murtagh and maybe even Orik. Do not worry; you are not alone, Eragon."
His brown eyes widened as he stared at her. How was it that she knew how to make him feel welcomed? Cared for even? He blinked, his dry eyes irritating him, as emotions welled up within him. Finding his voice, he felt angered that it was heavy as he said, "You are not alone either, Arya."
He could see her faint smile in the dark as her hand withdrew. Composing himself, he spoke again, his voice normal. "You should go to rest. I'll keep watch, thought I doubt anything would attack us with Thorn and Saphira nearby. Even your own dragon would give many predators pause." The corners of his mouth turn up at the last sentence.
She rose with a fluid motion and sauntered back to camp, leaving Eragon to sit and watch with his bow and quiver in his lap. Thinking back to the previous night, as they packed up the next morning, he had not needed to use it. They flew for a short while, only to land when Arya motioned for the dragons to do so. She had instructed for them to walk and for the dragons to fly overhead. They did, traveling down a narrow trail through tangled dogwood and rosebushes, which filled the air with their warm scent.
Despite the fact that he did not know how the elves would react, a small feeling of excitement welled up within him. He could feel Saphira's excitement as well. At last, they came upon a small meadow set between the river and forest. "Stop here," Arya said in a low voice. She walked forward until she stood in the center of the meadow, then cried, "Come forth, my brethren, for you have nothing to fear. 'Tis I, Arya of Ellesméra. My companions are friends and allies, they mean us no harm." He felt his body tense as the ancient language flowed from the leaves of the trees before Arya replied, "I do."
With a rustle, two elves appeared at the edge of the forest while two others dropped out from the trees. It was hard not to think of elves as wild, with their intense love of nature. In contrast, they were the most elegant and graceful of all the races. Those on the ground bore long spears, while the others held bows. All were garbed in moss colored tunics and flowing robes. One had tresses as dark as Arya's. The other three had hair the color of starlight.
They embraced Arya, laughing in clear voices, before joining hands to dance around her in a circle, like children, singing merrily as they spun through the grass. Murtagh seemed to be enjoying the music of their laughter; Eragon on the other hand was taut as a bowstring. They had yet to take notice of them, standing amongst their midst as they focused their attentions on Arya. Another reason to have a large distaste for being in Du Weldenvarden was that the elves were a capricious race; one moment they could be outraged, the next they would give you blessings. He was going to have to tread lightly now in order to not offend anyone.
Then Saphira and the others drifted over the river to settle beside Eragon and Murtagh. At their approach, the elves cried out in alarm and aimed their weapons toward her. It happened all too fast, Arya's words seeming to grow deaf on their ears as they took in the sight of Eragon and Saphira, the sapphire dragon beside him, coming to the conclusion of his identity in that moment. The sound of a familiar twang echoed through the air, followed by the hissing as something flew towards him.
Surprise flooded him as the arrow bored past his wards. But then, why should he be surprised? This was a magical race that he was facing, for elves to come up with a spell that could overcome his wards was hardly a surprise. He grunted as the sharp metal pierced the skin in the center of his chest, stumbling at the force with which it flew at him. His foot caught something and the world whirled about him. He went from gazing at Arya and the elves, to staring bewildered into the sky, before closing his eyes to the green of the grass.
Eragon blinked, coming back to himself. He was standing in the familiar white void; facing the same crypt that was shut tight, with chains and bound by enchantments. The chain on his right leg had not given way yet as he stood there. Another chain slid free of its bindings and reappeared from the white ground below him. It reached up as if a living creature and wrapped itself around his left leg."Your time is running out, Eragon."
He blinked, gazing up the ceiling of a wooden hut. Where am I? He thought sluggishly. The last thing he remembered was being hit by an arrow and falling, hitting the grass of the meadow. But this was not the meadow. The arrow was gone and the center of his chest was intact, as if it had never had an arrow sticking out of it in the first place. His tunic was missing. Eragon sat up, rubbing his chest as it ached. Lying next to him was a new tunic, the color of moss, one like those the elves wore. Next to it was a steaming bowl of mushroom soup. The bowl was made from an unusually dense wood, Eragon noticed, as he held it between his hands. The shape of a dragon was carved into its side.
Picking up the spoon next to it, he gratefully sipped the hot soup. It was delicious, warm and sweet. When he finished, Eragon stood, bringing the tunic over his head. The fabric was fine, even more so than the dwarves'. It felt silky and smooth against his skin as he walked out of the hut to find everyone gathered around a fire, talking quietly. At the sight of him, they all stopped to watch his progress. It was already night, the dim light of the fire giving light to the small clearing. How are you feeling?
Like someone walked on my chest, Eragon replied, as he took a seat next to Saphira. The large sapphire dragon nudged him with her snout. He glanced at the elves, who looked pale and ashamed of themselves. Have you been giving them a hard time?
She snorted. If you mean to ask if I have forgiven them, I have not. When you forgive them, so shall I. He nodded. Arya was watching him the entire time as he spoke with Saphira. "How are you feeling?"
"Well enough," was his stiff reply. She was worried. He glanced at Saphira in surprise. Oh, do not act so shocked. When the arrow hit you, it was caught in your chest rather well. What was worse was the fact that it was a barb-headed arrow. It was a rather tricky predicament. The metal was lodged against your throat, cutting off circulation. Arya was rather distressed when she had to push it out. One wrong move and you could have died.
Were you in a panic?
No, I was not.
At his amused expression at her denial, Thorn turned towards them, as if sensing the conversation. Eragon allowed him entry into his mind. Immediately, the male dragon's deep voice rumbled in his mind. If it were not for Arya and I, she would've torn the elves to pieces. And I'm sure that they would've defended themselves.
She huffed, but did not contradict the red dragon. Eragon smiled and reached out to pat Saphira gently on the snout, earning a lick on the arm. One of the elves, who had been watching Eragon, stood up sharply. His starlight hair was bright in the darkness. He moved to stand before Eragon. Bowing deeply before him, he twisted his right hand over his sternum then touched his first two fingers to his lips. "Atra esterní ono thelduin, Eragon-elda, and without giving Eragon a chance to reply, "I am Edurna of House Tsébin; I cry your pardon, for it was my arrow that pierced your chest. I deeply regret such an act. Please, do not allow this event to mar your opinion of my race."
Eragon stared at Edurna, and he could see in the elf's face the deep regret he held. His eyes flickered to Arya's expression, which was tense, her eyebrows slanted. He was not surprised that it had happened; he had expected a charge, rather than just an arrow. Touching his first two fingers to his lips, he replied, "Mor'ranr lífa unin hjarta onr, Edurna-finiarel. It was a simple mistake." Eragon finally said quietly. "You were just being cautious and I do not hold any animosity for you."
"Elrun ono, Eragon-elda, un du evarínya ono varda." Edurna replied, relaxing only slightly.
One part of him screamed that he was an idiot to forgive Edurna, for he had nearly been killed by his arrow. But to survive in Ellesméra, he had to bend his pride. This was merely a test for what might happen as he was presented to the queen. Edurna had still to stand. Eragon realized that he was waiting for Saphira's forgiveness as well. He poked her hard in the side and from the smile that graced the elf's face, saw that she too, had given it.
When that was out of the way, the elves again began to sing and dance. They truly were capricious. "That was kind of you." He turned, glancing at Arya in surprise, not realizing that she was next to him.
"Did I do something kind?" said Eragon, bemused by her statement. She seemed to find his confusion amusing, for she tossed him a faint smile, shaking her head. When she did not question him anymore, he sighed. One never knew what an elf was thinking. No wonder why Galbatorix did not want to face them directly. Even when he was strong, taking on the elves in their forest would be a humiliating downfall. "How are you feeling?"
Now it was her turn to be bemused. "Should I be feeling any different?"
He shrugged. "Has it subsided? Your fear?"
Arya sighed and her long fingers swept through her dark hair. "It has but grown." With that she stood and left for one of the huts.
The next morning, they were packing their things into canoes, which, to Eragon's surprise, were strong yet light. As they were boarding, he found it amusing how Arya insisted that he share a canoe with her and Narí, while Murtagh, Orik, and Lifaen boarded the other. She must not have wanted Eragon and Murtagh together, so as to avoid any potentially embarrassing scenes. If that were to happen, it would disgrace Arya and only show to the elves that two of their hopes were ignorant and foolish Riders.
Eragon did not need to learn how to paddle, for he had been taught as a child while fishing. As they paddled up Eldor Lake, a sense of peace settled over him. It was quiet, except for the chirps of birds and the tumbling of water over rocks. Du Weldenvarden was much different from the stone cities of the dwarves and the brick and mortar walls of the cities within the Empire. He could sit there, paddling in silence for hours without complaint.
As they traveled, Arya often engaged him with conversation. As well, Narí would ask him of Urû'baen and the Empire and the goings-on of other cities. He would reply politely, though he spoke most of the time to divert Arya's attentions from her fears of returning to Ellesméra. The strange and warm feeling he had for her only grew more intense as he spent more time with her. Though he did not understand it, Saphira would often enjoy teasing him on the subject.
He turned his head to stare at Lifaen, who was gazing at Arya's dragon that was paddling in the water beside their canoe. A strange hope gleamed in his eye as he gazed at the emerald dragon. Eragon understood; an elf as a Rider was a great hope, for everyone knew that elves were skilled with the sword and strong in magic. Little did an elf need to be taught. They were proud of Arya, he thought. Proud that she was a Dragon Rider. She, who devoted herself to the greater good of her people, was finally able to do so to the fullest, to become the bearer of their hopes and ambitions.
Deep in thought, he blinked when a white feather drifted from the sky. Fascinated, he reached out his hand; watching as it landed lightly on his palm. It must have fallen from a passing bird. "Do you collect feathers?" asked Arya, who was gazing at it intently.
He shook his head. "No, I just find it to be a beautiful symbol, that's all." He took in a deep breath. "Birds are blessed."
"How so?" said Arya, genuinely intrigued by his statement.
"They have wings," explained Eragon. "Wings symbolize freedom for those who have none. They are above all other creatures, having a freedom even as great as dragons'. To fly from one place to another without restraint, that is true freedom." Those wings, I want them too. "But I was blessed with Saphira, and her wings have brought me here, to Du Weldenvarden. She gave me freedom."
Understanding shined in her eyes as she nodded. A small breeze lifted the feather from his palm; it drifted forward towards Arya, lightly breezing across her nose. He watched as her face scrunched into a frown. Then she did something that surprised him. Her mouth opened into a small 'O' shape and a sound that he had never thought to hear from her came out.
She sneezed.
He stared at her for a moment, before he could not help himself; he found his mouth twisting into a smile, and a booming laugh coming from between his lips. Arya was so regal and dignified that the act made her look ridiculous. He had held her in such high standards; Eragon had forgotten that even she had to sneeze now and then. The look of astonishment on her face, from his reaction, made him laugh even harder. From some distance, he could hear Saphira's roar at his mirth.
When he finally regained control of himself, Eragon shook his head, staring at Arya's back as she continued paddling. It surprised him, just slightly, as he came to realize that he enjoyed being in the elf's presence. It calmed him, like nothing else could, not even than Saphira and his mother. The warmth in his chest bloomed.
So, what do you all think? I just had to put in Arya sneezing. It was a must have for me. :) But my life is getting pretty busy nowadays and I'll try to keep to my policy of fast uploads. I know how it feels to wait around forever to read something that you like. Please review and tell me if you like the ExA fluff because I plan on putting loads more in my story. And we are almost at 200 reviews! Just keep going and a chapter of Eragon's servants shall be posted! See you all at the next chapter! :) And don't forget to review!