Arlen watched as Cade and Jory maneuvered around a bend in the Toark River. They pushed their poles against the banks, making sure they avoided beaching. The two of them seemed to be masters of their craft, though Cade was noticeably better as it tended to go smoother when he was pushing. He decided that he was far too fascinated with this, and would try to do anything that didn't involve that.
Arlen turned to Lynde, who was trying to sharpen her sword. The problem was that she seemed to be using a normal stone, and not a proper whetstone. Fortunately, he still had the whetstone he used on his old sword, which he hadn't used since getting Mor'ranr—a sword that didn't need to be sharpened. He got it out of a pocket, and handed it to Lynde. She smiled and said, "Thank you."
"And you might want to sharpen it the other way," Arlen noted. "You won't get as good a sword that way."
"Alright." She then began following his advice.
He sat down next to her and said, "You know, I never thought you'd be a warrior."
Lynde frowned. "What do you mean by that?"
"I just thought you'd calm with age and have a family, not become a Rider," Arlen explained. "I don't think anyone could have expected what your fate would turn out to be."
"Or will be," Rose noted. The two of them looked up at the ranger. She seemed almost in a daze as she spoke. "Every Rider has a legend behind them, and Lynde's story has barely begun. No one knows what the future will bring, even if some say they do. Your next chapter might be one of glorious triumph or terrible tragedy, but it may be the one that begins a story all of your own." She shook her head and said, "Sorry; sometimes I revert to being a philosophical Elf."
"I don't mind," Lynde said.
"I have chills," Arlen noted.
"It wasn't that great," Rose said. "I was practically repeating…"
"No, I actually have chills." The wind was as cold as winter and as strong as a storm. He looked to the sky and saw a terrifying sight. A huge blue Dragon flying down from the mountains. Suddenly he felt very afraid.
The Dragon passed right over them, flying to the east. Rose, who had blanched at the sight of it, spoke up. "I have not seen Saphira in over ten years, but that almost looked like she could be her."
"How could you tell it was a she?" Arlen asked. Rose glared at him, and he looked down, realizing the question was rather silly.
"It would not make sense though. There was a prophecy that said that Eragon would leave Alagaësia and never return. That came true, so it does not make sense for Saphira to travel without her Rider, especially so far."
"What if the prophecy was wrong?" Arlen suggested.
"No! I trust the source, and would not consider her capable of being incorrect or untruthful about her fortunes," Rose said.
"After you just said it was impossible?" Arlen said.
Rose frowned at him and continued. "It must be some other Dragon. Perhaps a cousin or even one of her spawn."
"Or it could be like what we have Artsanna doing," Lynde suggested. "She could simply be on an errand."
"You don't send the oldest Dragon in Alagaësia on an errand," Rose corrected. "It has to be a different Dragon."
Arlen wasn't going to argue with her, since he had his own theory. What if the prophecy hadn't come true yet? What if Eragon could come and go as he liked, but would—at one time—leave Alagaësia and die in the lands outside of it? It would certainly explain some things, but not all of them. He decided not to bring it up, as he probably didn't understand it at all—he rarely did with matters of mysticism.
A day and night passed on the river. They didn't stop for night, instead sleeping on the ferry, with Cade and Jory sleeping in shifts with the understanding that one would wake the other in case an emergency came up. When day broke, Arlen was not the last one up, with Lynde taking that title.
"My back is sore," Lynde complained.
"So is mine," Arlen noted. "We've been sleeping on rocks the past few nights, so wood is actually soft to me now."
"When are we going to get to rest in actual beds?" Lynde asked Rose.
"When we get to Surda, most likely," she replied. "But if you want a warm bed then try going to the Riders; they would be happy to give you one along with all the bondage that goes with it."
Arlen sighed. "They don't tell you about the simple hardships those heroes endure," he said. "Bad accommodations is something they leave out of the legends."
"Yes, but think about this," Rose said. "In all those legends, they never once say the hero thinks about what the right thing to do is; he simply knows it. Real heroes are not so, and I have met more than one man who was self-assured by the thought that what they were doing was right, and yet none of them became heroes whose tales are told around the fire. And even if they are right, they don't think things through enough that they die before they can do any more than just that.
"True heroes learn what the right thing is from the situation, and how it will affect everyone. Once they know what the right thing is, they plan out what they are going to do so as to be victorious in their quest. It is very easy to do one and not the other, and become either another nameless corpse or a villain. I think you could do a lot to learn from each other, and everyone you meet to learn what they want from life and how certain things will affect them."
"Do you do all that?" Lynde asked.
"No; I don't care about being a hero. I do things that are for me and those I may care about, and occasionally try to give the world something it doesn't deserve. Of course, I wouldn't want a Rider following that example, so you two can… Artsanna!"
Arlen looked to the north and saw the silver Dragon flying towards them. Lynde was delighted, much to the pain of Arlen's ears. As Artsanna glided near, she said, Hello, small ones. I have come back with a forgotten burden.
"I am not a burden!" Herbst shouted as he dismounted onto the ferry. He was a bit shaky from the ride, but was otherwise fine.
I was referring to your burdening my back, Artsanna quipped. I will try to find something to eat. Hunting with this one on my back was impossible, and I am very hungry. I can talk to you while I hunt though.
"No, you don't need to do that," Lynde said. "I remember that last time."
Artsanna's voice sounded—if that was the proper term—embarrassed. Oh, right. Perhaps I should just go then. Though I will want to speak to you, Lynde, eventually.
"Right."
As Artsanna flew away, attention turned to Herbst. "How could you forget about me?" he asked. They had no explanation to offer him, so he started acting hurt. "If you don't want me around, you could have just said so."
Arlen was surprised, and so was Lynde. "You've been invaluable to us," Arlen said. "We don't want you to go."
"But that's just it," Herbst said. "I've outstayed my welcome. I couldn't save my daughter, and I can barely get supplies. I might as well just go back to Cathalorn."
"No, father," Lynde cried.
"Herbst," Rose said. "We don't need you, but Lynde does, and you need her. You two are all the family you've got and you need to start embracing that fact or ignore it completely. I don't care much what you decide, but you're one of our only supply runners, so if you would like to stay on, I'd be glad to have you."
Herbst smiled. "I bet you were quite something in your day, making a man feel great like that."
Rose was shocked. "In my day? It's still my day! It never stopped being my day!"
"Really, because you look like you're getting a bit old."
"I choose to look this way!" Rose said. "And anybody who says anything else can go overboard!"
"No one's throwing anyone off my craft," Cade said, "even if it is you doing the throwing, Auntie Rose."
"I was about to ask who these folks were, but I guess I don't need to," Herbst said.
"For the last time, I am not anyone's aunt!"