Chapter 18: A Choice He Took.

Oromis considered the young man who entered his hut. It had been three hours, and while Oromis did not have much hope that the young man would grasp it in one sitting he did hope he would have made some progress, and yet…

Eragon looked so tired.

He waited patiently, going back to his scroll and adding a few more lines with his goose-feather quill, letting the boy take his own time to speak. There was no need to press the issue, and his haggard appearance worried Oromis. Just a little true, but it worried him all the same. And anything that worried an elf, an elf that had seen many hundreds of generations, of humans at least, pass, was something to worry about indeed.

"I listened to some shit, or tried too, then went to sleep" Eragon said plainly, staring at the woodgrain on the tabletop.

"I see" Oromis's response indicated no disapproval, no judgement "What did you hear?"

"It... it was too loud, there was too much" Eragon struggled with words for a while, then sighed "I didn't hear anything" he admitted.

"I see." Oromis folded his palms and looked up at Eragon, taking a long hard look and maintaining the stare when Eragon stared back with his blood red eyes "You will spend an hour there each day, until you can watch one, and know all."

"Great, nap time."

Oromis smiled a little, whether or not Eragon's comment was meant in jest or not was not something he knew, but he hoped it was "Well then, we shall move promptly on to the ancient language, as the humans call it. You have thus far worked with an incomplete knowledge of the ancient language. Though none know every word there is to be known, by the time this is over you will be familiar with the grammar and structure of our language."

Eragon smirked "'Your' language, huh?"

"In addition" Oromis ignored this light jab "I will teach you, and you will learn, how to read and write in the ancient language."

"Urgh."

"This will not only help you learn the words, and the structure and grammar. It will also help you compose lengthy spells more easily, and keep them to be remembered, and also aid you should you find a spell recorded and wish to make use of it. Without killing yourself."

Eragon scowled at his elven teacher, but this too was ignored.

"Every race has developed their own system of writing the ancient language. The dwarves have their runic alphabet, which humans have erm… borrowed."

"I prefer the term, 'liberated'."

"It is imperfect though, a makeshift technique that cannot truly express the subtleties of the language, so is our script, the Liduen Kvaedhi. It was designed to be elegant, beautiful, precise… and it is still… lacking. Still, the script…"

Eragon struggled to pay attention while Oromis continued to lecture him on the ancient language, not his favourite subject to be sure.

"Many spells are structured through multiple words, each the next stepping stone on the road to a greater goal, this will allow you to create long spells that can accomplish much or accomplish a task in less time or taking less energy than a shorter spell, either could save your life."

"Hmm."

"I sense a distinct lack of interest, Eragon" Oromis commented, after several minutes of these responses "Is there an issue?"

"I don't need many words to get it done."

"No?"

"No" Eragon shook his head and glanced outside "The most I've ever said in the ancient language was… when I talked to Arya in her mind maybe… or when I blessed that brat… huh, was there any other moment? I don't really remember."

"You blessed a child?" Oromis was suddenly alert, his posture stiff, his eyes sharp.

"Uh, yeah… in Farthen Dur, I thi..."

"What words did you use?" Oromis said, his voice cutting into Eragon mumblings "Do you remember them, the words exactly?"

"I… uh, guess…" there was a frown on Eragon's face, what was this about?

The stern countenance of Oromis however, was far worse than Eragon's frown.

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'What are the three rules for spotting downdrafts, and the five for escaping them?' Glaedr asked as he approached the younger and far smaller man.

Eragon spared a single look at the giant golden dragon, his eyes spitting hot fire towards the dragon who right now he looked at with nothing but anger and wrath "Do I look like I give a single shit?"

A moment passed in silence, save Oromis sighing gently.

Then in an instant everything changed, Glaedr stood, his gaze sharpened his ivory fangs became visible as he bore them at the young Rider/Shade, and his back arched to make his impressive size even more so 'Do you think you can address me as you might my Rider, little brat?' his voice rumbled like an earthquake, even inside of Eragon's head it shook the confines of his skull and made his ears ring.

He cared not a bit.

"I'll listen to your lectures some other time, old man" Eragon shot back, heat rising in his voice. He kicked the dirt "I'm heading back on my own Saphy, see you there" there was only a touch more delicacy, more gentleness, for his dragon, but still enough anger to make her flinch.

Saphira felt a pit gnawing in her stomach. While she had been off, 'playing' as she would call it, with Glaedr something had happened to her Rider, something that had affected him deeply. And there was only one person who could tell her what this was. She turned her entire body to the elderly elven rider, bearing down upon him.

It would seem threatening, Oromis mused, were it not for the desperation emanating from her every move.

'What did you say to him?!' she demanded.

Oromis offered him a faint smile "I revealed an unfortunate truth that he had a hand in. It was not one I was previously aware of, it is one he will have to reveal to you himself. If he wishes to share it with you or not is his own right. I apologise."

Saphira growled and kicked off into the sky, her eyes tracing the canopy for signs of her Rider.

Glaedr and Oromis shared a look 'Well…'

"I'm sure they'll be here on time tomorrow" Oromis said, not much faith in his own words, but there was hope however. He considered the small wooden object in his hand, and knew that he would have to give it to the Rider tomorrow.

'Of course they will' one could practically hear the roll in Glaedr's eyes, just through his voice. They definitely wouldn't be on time, of that the old golden dragon was certain.

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Saphira had been home a long time when Eragon finally arrived, he nodded in greeting to her, his mind barred shut.

She winced at this, to bar her from his mind was… well it wasn't nice, it was like locking her out of her own home, or shutting her out of her own castle, only she couldn't rip open the ceiling or fly over the walls in this case.

His mind was closed to her, and that meant that she could not get in, he could hear her if she chose to speak, but all else was beyond her reach.

As such she had no idea how to help him.

She watched him sit on the bed, his face blank of expression, almost entirely neutral, and finally chose to speak "Eragon?" Saphira hated the hesitance, the nervousness, the weakness in her voice, but she couldn't hide it, not here in her own mind.

He turned to her "What's up?"

Relief poured through her, he answered with his mind, not purely his voice. Sometimes he answered with both, or to let others know a conversation was happening, and sometimes just to get the words out of him, but other times he'd answer purely with his voice, his mind not open to her...

She hated that.

"Are you…"

"No."

"Can I…

"No…"

There was no cruelness in his response, and Saphira could sense his honesty, and his sadness at her worry.

He stood suddenly, almost making her jump, and went rifling around the possession he had strew about the room, eventually picking up a box, opening the latch, and drawing out his unstrung bow.

The black horn shaft, stringed with lines of gilded gold, and the long dark string that hung loose but could, with a deft hand, be easily and quickly strung taught, even Saphira, with little knowledge or care for weaponry could admire the stick shooter the dwarves had built for her Rider, though she had to look at it through her Rider's eyes to truly appreciate it.

He looted some more and located a rag and become polishing the bow. Once he was done he checked the arrows, then the spare strings, and all else in the box. And then he moved on, checking her saddle, ensuring it was knotted correctly, attempting to scrub out some stains.

Saphira watched him make himself busy with various chores, even trying to polish the scar out of Durza's sword at one point, or perhaps he was trying to highlight it?

He was hiding something, or rather he wasn't hiding it but not telling her, and he didn't want to think about it himself either.

She remained awake, watching him work, worry gnawing at the edges of her mind.

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He heard her first, the pine needle forest within which they dwelled masking her scent, previously so noticeable in the dirt and stone of Farthen Dur, but her footsteps were audible in the quiet of the forest, well amidst the birds chirping, the leaves and needles rustles, and the various sounds of wildlife, there wasn't much in the way of quiet, but her steps were audible all the same.

"Arya" he called out her name while she was still on the other side of the door leading into his rooms "Do you need something?"

She paused there, staring at the wood, her hand on the doors handle, and a moment passed before she responded "How many days have you been here?"

Eragon paused himself, currently sharpening the bone handled hunting knife Garrow had given him "I dunno, I haven't been keeping track. Three maybe?"

"May I enter?" she asked politely.

"Do what you want."

She entered, finding him sat cross-legged on the floor, knife and grindstone in hand and considered him for a long time, crossing her arms and standing there for several minutes.

For his part Eragon ignored her, after but a moment inspecting her new attire, a green tunic cinched around her waist by a gemmed belt, moonstones being the gems in question. Her hair was loose as well, cascading down her shoulders and around her face. After that he returned to the task at hand, his focus solely on that.

He was done when she spoke again.

"Not once since your arrival have you been out, explored the wonders that Ellesmera has to offer, no?"

"No, that's right" he raised a brow "What's your point?"

"Come" she offered him her hand "You should not coop yourself up in here. If you will let me, I shall show the both of you around my home."

Eragon sent a vague querying thought to his one and only dragon 'I'm interested' she said to him, and only to him 'But... do you want me to come?'

Eragon chuckled at the odd display of courtesy from Saphira "I don't really care, but if you're not, I won't."

'I guess that decides it then. I will come' she said to both of them 'Thank you for your kind offer Arya-drottningu.'

Arya flinched visibly "There is no need to address me with such formality, Saphira Brightscales, one of your station..."

'A statement I return to you' Saphira retorted, interrupting the elf 'With all you have done for me and my Rider, you need not treat me with respect.'

"I..." for a moment Arya was speechless "Thank you, it is an honour."

Saphira snorted 'You've put up with my Rider's antics, you saved us at least once, possibly more, and are responsible for us meeting in the first place. Formality need no longer exist in our interactions.'

"That is true both ways, I am in your debt for saving me, for slaying Durza, for… for simply existing. Formality has no place when you speak to me."

Eragon watched the whole interaction with intense boredom "Are you two done deciding you can be friends, or do I need to give you a few more minutes?"

Saphira rolled her eyes at him 'No, I think we're done.'

"Well good, I was getting bored."

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"I have a question for you Arya."

They had been walking for many moments in silence, well as silent as it got in a forest with a dragon in tow. But they did not exchange words, till now. It was almost startling to hear his voice, even though it had not been so long since she had last heard him speak.

As such Arya took a moment before responding "Yes."

"Did you mother set you up to this?"

That gave her pause. A momentary offence rushed into her thoughts, but reason beat back offence. It was a fair question after all, and something her mother likely would use to curry favour with the new Dragon Rider, but... these circumstances were not what her mother had expected.

"No" she said simply and calmly, keeping any offense she might've felt far from her tone, as she padded through the forest with the Rider and his Dragon in tow "If she had I would've informed you as such."

"Really?"

"Yes, I do not think lying to you would be... sensible, or safe."

"Huh, nice to know."

"My..." She paused, stuttered, then continued "My mother does not approve of any continuation of the relationship between us, whatever said relationship may be. Beyond a professional one, that is."

"Hmm."

Arya raised a delicate brow in his direction and, upon noticing, he responded in kind. She had expected... more, a comment of some kind, some witticism, a playful jab about their 'relationship', but no. He said nothing and indicated little about what he thought of her mother's wording in that matter.

"What?" he asked after several brow raising moments.

"Nothing of import."

"Hmm" a slight grin came to Eragon's face "Could've sworn you said something about lying to me a few moments back."

"True" she responded, her hair flowing behind her as she strode forwards "But maybe, even then, I was lying."

"Hmm…" Eragon let out a slow breath "I have another question."

"Yes."

Eragon stopped dead, suddenly, his foot thumping into a tree root, and Arya followed suit when she noticed, turning herself slightly, not to face him but to partially do so, at least. His gaze met hers, red on green, as it had done many times before "Why did you take my sword?" he asked, his tone practically a whine.

She smiled, almost teasingly, turning a little grimmer when her gaze turned to the bloody blade Zar'roc in her hand "All will be revealed. Come."

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"Of all my creations, this I least expected to hold again, save for his. How came you to possess Morzan's sword?" the elf woman almost spat his name, which was practically courteous considering all he had done, to the order whose weapons this woman created.

Rhunon was unlike other elves, it was a subtle difference true, but the delicate lines marking her face showed an age that no other elf had shown. Her hair was cropped short, unlike the typical long flowing locks that Eragon had witnessed. And her voice was rough, guttering and rasping, so different from the soft musical tones the rest of her kind possessed.

She was unique.

The sheer amount Eragon didn't care however, was difficult to describe, such was its negligibility.

"It was given to me" Eragon drawled, resting one of his hands on his other sword, the other hand's thumb tucked into his belt "by a grouchy old man called Brom."

"Brom?" she hefted Zar'roc, its colour glimmering in the light of the coals from her forge "Brom… I remember him" her eyes continued to examine the blade while her mouth spoke, whether either knew what the other was doing was a fair enough question, so far apart, so different and distant the two seemed "He begged me to replace the sword he had lost, Undbitr. Truly I wished to help him, but I had already taken my oath. My refusal angered him beyond reason. Oromis had to knock him unconscious before he would leave."

Eragon laughed "Sounds like him."

'It doesn't sound like him at all' Saphira commented keeping it between the two of them for the moment 'The Brom we knew was wise, grouchy true, but not prone to anger beyond reason.'

Her Rider merely smirked at her.

His smirk turned to Rhunon "Your work has served me well, Rhunon" Arya sighed at his lack of respect. Rhunon's expression didn't change "Killed Durza with that thing."

"Durza?" Rhunon frowned at him.

"A Shade, the original owner of this" he tapped his other sword.

Rhunon frowned at the weapon, the reached out beckoning for it, placing Zar'roc on the anvil for the moment.

Eragon groaned but drew the sword he had taken from the corpse of his… whatever Durza was to him, and handed it over, he was loathe to, but he did so.

She studied it with interest, running her finger along the scar cut down the sword by Ajihad, examining the bone handle and the spiked pommel with some interest, but the edge and the point and the middle of the blade receiving most of her attention.

"This… is a work of art" she commented after many minutes of silence "In the same sense that dead orphans nailed to a tree is art. It is beautiful, but horrifying. The spells laid into his blade" she pulled her finger away from the edge, checking it almost nervously for injury "It is a fine weapon, that is to be sure."

"Oh?"

"Yes, comparable to my work, though not quite that fine, I must admit. It was wielded by one called Durza? A shade" Eragon nodded "Durza… hmm… " she handed it back, happily even, it seemed the blade, fine though it may be, was too foul for her to bear "Here, take your Durza back."

Eragon slid it into its sheath "Durza huh" he touched the sword "I guess…"

The hilt of Zar'roc poked him in the face, there was hesitance in Rhunon, she almost didn't want to give it up, but she did and let Eragon take the wine red sword back "I am glad Misery did something good, killing a Shade is a deed to be proud of. Shame, the taint of that blade could not be cured by a simple Shade though."

Her gaze went past him to Saphira "Ah, well met Skulblaka."

Eragon tied Zar'roc to his belt, opposite Durza. Maybe naming his sword after the Shade that had turned him into a Shade and tortured Arya was a bad idea, maybe it was get terribly confusing, but he would do it all the same. It was better than calling it Durza's sword all the time… or maybe calling it Durza's sword was better. Who knew?

He tuned back in to find Rhunon examining a scale on his dragon "...this blue would have made a gorgeous blade…" maybe because he hadn't been paying attention, only for a moment though, but Eragon found it rather confusing that Rhunon became so… weary at those words. As if merely speaking them had drained her of her energy.

She returned to the anvil and stared, exhausted, at the tongs she had cut in half with Zar'roc, to test its edge or something?

Eragon considered her a while longer, even though Arya looked ready to leave "You don't look like the other elves" he said bluntly, after several moments.

'Eragon!' Saphira grumbled him.

Even Arya looked offended in Rhunon's place.

Rhunon on the other hand merely looked at him, slightly amused if nothing else "You mean how I'm not a pretty young thing like all the others? Elves look however they want to look" she told him "I, on the other hand, am perfectly happy looking how I look. So forgive my ugliness."

A frowned marred the Rider face "Did I say that? Saphira did I say that? I didn't say that, right?"

'Say what? That's she's ugly, in which case no you didn't, you said 'not like the others' and can I just point out you are the most tactless bastard I have had the pleasure of meeting' Saphira turned her head to the elf, projecting her thoughts to all now 'Forgive my Rider his rudeness, Rhunon-elda, he meant no offence.'

"I don't doubt that."

"I'm sorry" Eragon said, and everyone froze. Everyone who knew him that is, Arya stared stunned even Saphira was shocked "I didn't mean to imply that you were ugly" he continued, ignoring them for now "Rest assured Rhunon, you are beautiful."

Rhunon gave him an even more amused smile, whether or not she found his flirt cute or just found everything he was saying terribly funny, it could even be both.

"I only meant that you look… tired… weary… the others, they hide it, so well they barely seem to have it. The weight of the world, of time, of memory. But time has left its marks on you, a line here and there, skin not so soft and flawless, weathered. Well weathered compared to say" he gestured at Arya "Flawless skin, no lines, youth and beauty for eternity, typical elf. But you're different..." Eragon grinned "I like you."

Rhunon considered him a minute "You have a devilish tongue Rider."

"So I've been told" he said grinning. His gaze shifted to the mail she was working on, the glimmering corslet of silvery rings. And he noticed, with his eyes, that each ring had been welded shut. Hard to notice such things with things other than eyes, except maybe fingers, tongue if you were good.

Tiny links like that cooled quickly, usually they had to be welded before being attached to the main piece of mail, which meant that the finest mail, like his own, was composed of links that were alternately welded and riveted closed.

Welding all was practically impossible for any normal smith, but with an elf's precision and speed…

"Why?"

"Why what?" she asked, retrieving a new pair of tongs.

"Why do all of this, by hand? What purpose does it serve? If you need armour magic would be faster, so it's not that. So why?"

She looked from the mail to him, then laughed "Let me pose you a question little rider" he ignored the 'little' part, he liked her that much "What matters most, the journey or the goal?"

Eragon actually considered it, instead of responding as his heart told him to with 'Do I look like I give a fuck?', he actually thought about the question "I dunno. I mean the goals important, gotta be worth the journey, but the same is true in reverse. Equal maybe?"

She gave him a smile "Let me teach you a lesson I learned, long ago. One I doubt you've had the time too. This mail, I pull each ring from the fire, and weld it shut before it has time to cool. Why?"

"Isn't that what I asked?"

"Answer" she said roughly.

"Because you're stupid" he responded in kind.

She barked another laugh "Maybe. But consider this. With magic I could weld each ring shut, forge an entire coat of mail in a heartbeat. Why don't I? Why do I do each by hand, why 'waste my time' with this pointless exercise?"

"That's what I was asking!" he exclaimed. She crossed her arms at him, and he frowned "B… because…" he thought, he really did, but… why? Why spend your time doing something that you could do in a heartbeat? Why make the effort? "Because… the journey?"

"Exactly! The journey. Me, and every other elf for that matter, could use magic to satisfy our each and every desire. Some do. But I don't. Because if I did what purpose would my life serve? What would I do with my time? I have nothing better to do than make armour, therefore I'll make it by hand? With magic you can have everything, so to fill the time I have I pursue that which I love the most. Now, leave! I grow weary of this… talk."

Eragon chuckled "As you wish" he left while Arya remained for a moment, but she caught up to them without issue and began directing them again towards, what Eragon presumed was, their next objective.

"She made all the Rider's swords?" he asked, sounding uninterested to hide his disbelief, though funnily enough he believed it, utterly and completely, despite his disbelief.

"Every last one, and more besides. She is the greatest smith who has ever lived. At least as far as we are aware. I thought that you should meet her, for her sake and yours."

Saphira thanked her in his place, knowing that he would not, then posed a question that had been on her mind since the elf had, without query or consideration, touched her 'Is she always so… forward?'

Arya's smile was a sight to behold, beautiful as the sun rising golden over the edge of the word. It made Eragon roll his eyes "Yes. In her eyes, nothing matters save her craft. Her impatience is famous for anyone, or thing, that interferes with it. But such things are tolerated, because her skill and accomplishments know few equals, if any."

They walked for a time, and the forest grew deeper and darker. Tangled paths lined with nettles and bushes, scratching and stinging at his legs. Soon there was almost no light and darkness ruled, Eragon could see clear as day, the faint light giving all the illumination he needed. But the trees grew thicker and thicker and closer and closer, almost to the point where Saphira could not pass by.

But then the forest ended, just before they reached that point, and they entered a grand clearing fill with pale white moonlight.

"Where have you brought me?" Eragon mumbled, not expecting an answer, speaking more in wonder than anything else, gazing at the lone pine in the centre of the clearing.

It was no taller than its brethren trees, but thick as a hundred combined, if not more. The previous trees they passed were slim and delicate in comparison. From the trunk poured forth roots, so thick and so many it seemed to blanket the ground with bark. It was almost as if this tree was the entire forest, as if each tree had come from this, was still connected to this, as if this tree were the heart of Du Weldenvarden itself.

It presided, over this clearing at least, but it felt like it presided over more, like a benevolent god, a just father, a kind mother, protecting its inhabitants under the shelter of its branches.

"Behold, the Meona tree" Arya whispered, as if afraid to disturb something "Here, in her shade, we bear witness to the Argaeti Blodhren."

"The what now?" for a painfully long time his voice echoed in the clearing, enough to make him regret the loudness of words… well almost regret them.

Arya offered him a smile and led him further in, closer to the tree, where she sat them down still able to behold the full glory of the Meona tree "The Argaeti Blodhren, would be the Blood-Oath Celebration, or the Celebration of the Blood-Oath. Each centry we hold it, to honour our pact with the dragons" she offered him a strange look, half a smile, half a frown "You are fortunate to be here now, for it is almost upon us…" she looked away "Fate has chosen a most auspicious coincidence."

"Fuck fate" Eragon muttered under his breath, sitting alongside her.

Arya stared at him for a long time, long enough for him to notice and return the stare. If one were to see them right now, it would not be amiss to confuse them for lovers, gazing longingly into each other's eyes.

The truth, however, was not nearly so romantic. It was a simple competition, an almost boring display of petty pride from the both of them, or a display of childish rivalry. Who would look away first? Who would give in? Which of them would win this pointless little game that would have no bearing on anything beyond this moment? Which would lose and suffer humiliation for a mere second?

As it turned out, it was Eragon. He merely stopped caring and looked away, glancing back to the giant tree.

"The Meona Tree… huh?" he'd heard that name before, and a smile twisted its way across his features as he realised where. Solembum, and his prophecy… was it a prophecy? Mayhaps it was simply words, spoken for a reason unknown to Eragon. But if that was the case, then did Solembum have firsthand knowledge of these things, or did he obtain such knowledge.

An interesting query, but not one he could answer at the present moments.

"Shall I tell you the story of the Meona tree?" Arya offered.

Lying back and staring up, at the canopy, and the sky just visible beyond, Eragon offered a noncommittal grunt.

'I would like that' Saphira said in his stead, coming down from where she had been perched in the tree, and landing behind them.

Eragon's eyes tracked a white blur flash into the clearing and land on a far outstretched branch of the grand tree hanging above his head. Lacking motion the blur revealed itself in the form of Blagden, the bleached white crow, who watched the three of them from on high.

"Before out war with the dragons, in the years of spice and wine before we became as immortal as a being composed of flesh and blood can be, there lived a women, Linnea. She had not sought a mate or children, and had grown old lacking such things, but felt no need to seek them out. Instead focusing her energy into the art of singing to plants, in which she was a master. But… a young man approached her, charmed her with fancy words and tales of love, and his affection woke a part of her that she did not know existed."

Arya lay back too, so that they were lying almost side by side, though there was a fair gap between them. Eragon turned his head to stare at her, but she remained looking up, ignoring his gaze.

"He woke a craving in her, a craving for the things she had sacrificed, without ever knowing she had sacrificed them. This second chance she was offered was an opportunity she could not ignore, she abandoned her work, abandoned her plants, and devoted herself to love, to the young man who had seduced her. And, for a time, they were happy."

"But?" Eragon started the next sentence for her, knowing a but was coming.

At his word she turned her head to look at him, lying side by side, gazing into each other's eyes, in the quiet of the forest, with no other sound than the sound of their breathing, and the giant dragon behind them stretched "The young man was young, he was not content with the older woman, he craved someone younger, more beautiful perhaps, more lustful mayhaps, or maybe he just craved, nothing more. Regardless, his eyes fell upon a young man, and he wooed and won her affections. And they too were, for a time, happy."

"Bet Linnea was thrilled" he said, chuckling.

Arya's eyes remained on his, big, full of an emotion he couldn't quite place. Sorrow? Regret? An empathy for the woman who was so scorned? Or was it something else?

"The young man had given Linnea a taste of all she had missed, shown her the fullness of life that up until then she had been blissfully unaware of. He showed her romance, love… sex. And then he took it all away. And when she learned what had occurred, that she had been spurned, scorned and abandoned, she went mad with grief… She found him, and the woman, and in her fury murdered him."

Her gaze pulled away, before he could identify what it was in her eyes, and her eyes returned to the sky where shortly after Eragon's eyes turned as well.

"All that awaited her after this was a joyless life, or so she felt. For what she had done was evil, and even if she were forgiven for his murder, she could not return to the life she had once lived, one empty of all she now knew she craved. So she sang, at the oldest tree in Du Weldenvarden, she sang for three days and three nights, she sang. She abandoned her race, perhaps even what made her elven, and on the morning of the fourth day she was finished. She had become the Meona tree, finally one with her beloved plants, and she has watched over this forest for all the millennia that have followed. That is the tale of the Meona tree."

Eragon's slow, melodious yet mocking, clapping filled the clearing "Excellent tale. Loved the ending, all round great story."

"It is no mere story" she told him softly "It is truth, twisted mayhaps, blurred over time, but the events took place."

"Hmm."

She sat up and swivelled round to survey him where he lay "Do you think the young man was to blame for the tragedy?"

Eragon raised an eyebrow at her, grinning "If this is an attempt to dissuaded me, or to warn me, it's a rather heavy handed one, no?"

Arya didn't respond.

"Very well then" he scratched his chin "Was the young man responsible? Yes, though not entirely. He was cruel, petty, and lacked forethought. And she was a fool, an old, lonely fool. They share blame, though it rests mostly on his shoulders true. But it all comes back to an old question, who's at fault, the con man or the conned? 'The conned shouldn't be so silly', and no they shouldn't, 'But the con man's a dick', also true. So you tell me, Arya. Who is at fault?"

She kept her gaze on him, struggling not to show her surprise at his well thought out and reasoned answer "I don't know" she replied "In either case I don't know, not truly" she finally looked away, standing and causing Eragon to do the same "How go your studies?" she queried as they wandered about the clearing, heading in the general direction of Ellesmera's… centre? If you could call it that.

"Hmm" Eragon responded.

"Is there an issue?" she wondered.

"Not one you can solve."

"Eragon" she took a grip of his arm, her clenched hand like an iron shackle "Did something happen between you and Oromis? Please tell me, if there is cause for concern it must be rectified as soon as poss…"

"It's not anything that will affect my further education" he told her, shaking off her grip.

Arya frowned and watched him take a few steps forwards "That doesn't mean it's not important."

Eragon laughed, more bitterly than he intended "One minute you're trying to convince me that a relationship between the two of us is wrong, the next you're worried about me, personally. Pick a path Arya."

Arya grew stiff "That was not my intent" she said.

"Which wasn't?" he asked, grinning, but there was a sour edge to his smile. He stopped smiling, and stepped back, then, after giving the Meona Tree a final long look, he turned and walked away waving backwards at her, or perhaps at Saphira "I'll make my own way back. Thanks for the company elf."

Arya heard Saphira sigh heavily and stand, the mighty dragon pausing at Arya's side 'He truly is grateful for your time, Arya, and your company. It… comforted him, for a time.'

Arya struggled to find a response, and as Saphira walked past, she still lacked the words to say.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

'Eragon' Saphira's word was gently yet seemed to echo endlessly in the silence which had consumed them since they had parted ways with Arya, even though she had not made a sound.

He responded with a 'Hmm?' not breaking the silence himself, and even the thought was quiet enough to strain her hearing. How exactly this mental communication worked she doubted she would ever know. Nor why subtleties that existed in the spoken word both did and did not exist there.

She hardly cared anyhow.

'What happened today… with Oromis?'

Eragon sighed 'Saphira it's… it's my business, just leave it.'

'You're my business' she said sharply.

He sighed again, he was tempted to keep this a secret from her, but she would learn and what she would glean from his mine would be enough to set her on the path. Better to get it over with now, get the uncomfortable moments out of the way so that they could get back to the normal swing of things.

"I…" he began outloud, not comfortable revealing the patheticness he felt over their link, through which she could glean more than he was comfortable with "Do you remember the child, in Farthen Dur. The one we blessed."

She nodded.

He smiled and brief bitter smile "For my part, twas no blessing at all. A curse, if naught else."

'How? The words you spoke were…' he let her in for but a moment, showed her what Oromis had showed him, his… his greatest mistake. And given just what he was, given all he had done, that was saying something. But that was all he gave her, a moment, everything else was closed off, his entire mind on lockdown save for that single moment 'I…' Saphira was stiff where she lay, gazing at the floor 'It is not your fault, you were not to know.'

Eragon laughed, a harsh, painful, grating sound.

'It is not your fault alone then' she reasoned 'I too was unaware.'

"Don't make excuses for me."

'Brom, perhaps he did not explain the difference' Saphira continued 'Perhaps Arya should have informed us of the languages severity. Perhaps the woman should not have asked. Perhaps the girl shouldn't have been born. Eragon there are many unfortunate events occurring all over this world. Even right now, and we are not responsible for every misfortune."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?" Eragon asked, that simple question resounding louder than her entire reasoning.

'I…'

She went silent and Eragon stood staring out of her door into the forest beyond.

She had no idea how to solve this problem, she couldn't fight it, burn it or kill it. And he refused her comfort, keeping her out of his thoughts and denying her words, no matter how true.

'Eragon…'

"Just leave it Saphy."

She was about to argue, then stopped. After all, what could she possibly say?

This child would forever be Eragon's responsibility, that much Saphira was certain of. Given all he had done to his own destiny it might not be understandable that he would care, but, when it came to himself… if nothing else, he had had a choice.

It was a choice the child had not received, would not, could not and would never receive. The child had not asked to be blessed, had not chosen this, they was an entirely innocent party. And what he had done to the child grated Eragon in ways Saphira hadn't been certain still existed. He was and felt guilty, responsible, at fault and worried most of all, worried of all the pain he had caused her.

Were he not so mournful, Saphira would grateful for the reminder that her Rider was still that human, as it was she took no satisfaction in it, indeed she wished he had never learned of the child's fate, if only to spare him a little longer.


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Hope you guys enjoy, if any of you are still left, and if you are... what the fuck are you doing? Spending a few minutes reading a chapter of a story you quite enjoy six years ago?

...

Oh... well... fair enough.

Toodles motherfucker.