This is folly, Saphira said for not the first time. Eragon sighed softly in resignation as he laid a hand against the dragoness' side fondly. Trouble follows you each moment we are separate.
Which is why I've only allowed us to be apart when the situation calls for it.
The situation does not call for this.
No one may know that I am a rider, Saphira. If you were to appear, then any chance of anonymity would be lost... You know that I wish for another way, but this is what we must do.
The Forsworn still exist, Eragon. They may be broken, or mad, but that only makes them more dangerous.
We shall likely not meet any Forsworn. Brom has been efficient in picking apart their numbers over these thirty years, as you know. With seven members remaining, I doubt Galbatorix is interested in sending them to investigate the Beors.
Then why must you go if the road is so safe? Saphira growled. Eragon smiled gently.
Even thirty years after the Fall, thirty years spent training and gathering strength for the future, Saphira would never cease to worry after her rider.
One of us has to worry, seeing as you are content to hope there's enough left to piece yourself together after a skirmish.
I love you too.
Do not try and distract me, Eragon. Your presence is unneeded on this mission.
Unneeded? Don't let Islanzadi hear you say that, Eragon said, only mildly joking. His current task, after all, was to accompany the newly established ambassador to the Varden's stronghold in the Beors. The elf-queen would likely be upset if she learned that Saphira disagreed with ensuring her daughter's safety. Then again, if the coldness Eragon had last seen Islanzadi bear towards her daughter was to be believed, perhaps the queen might agree with Saphira.
This is not a joking matter. You are needlessly risking your safety for a girl.
Her nature as a female does not color my decision to accompany her to the Varden, Saphira. I should have hoped you knew that. I must speak with Brom about recovering one or both of the eggs and that is not a conversation we can safely scry, especially with the borders guarding Du Weldenvarden from such magicks.
So why can I not go? The journey would be far shorter by air and I could leave you close to Farthen Dur so that I am near if you run into trouble.
We can run nearly as fast as you can fly.
Lies.
You could be spotted.
As could your gedwey ignasia. Beneath her irritation, Eragon could feel Saphira's underlying worry for him and his expression softened. He leaned towards her, resting his hand against her neck.
"We will be safe, friend of my heart."
Saphira studied him closely before, at last relenting, bowed her head.
I shall await your return. Do not tarry.
Never.
The first leg of the journey leaving the safe shadows of Du Weldenvarden was almost unnerving for Eragon for a number of reasons. Chief amongst those was the distinct lack of Saphira's usually comforting presence in his mind. Without that connection to her, he felt as if his very skin fit him wrongly and he had to resist the urge to stretch in an attempt to regain some sense of normality. A second cause for strain was the adamant silence Arya, the young daughter of Queen Islanzadi, seemed intent on keeping for as long as possible. Eragon was unsure if she was silent merely out of personal preference or if the young maiden was angry at him for some reason.
His reason, as fortune would have it, presented itself as their steeds bore them past the outskirts of Nadinel, a distance a normal horse would have had trouble accomplishing within a handful of days that their horses, two males named Paleri and Fascin, managed in the course of two quietly tense days.
"You need not have accompanied me, Eragon-elda." At the tone of the elven maid's voice, the answer presented itself quite plainly to Eragon. Tension relieved, he could feel little but amusement at his young companion.
"Would you begrudge me a venture out into the world once more, Arya Drottingu?" Eragon asked, smiling with mirth. Arya scowled at him, causing Eragon's smile to broaden. "Perhaps you would."
"You could have left any time these last thirty years. Why now?"
"You would do well to ease your mind and guard your thoughts, young one. There has been no urgency in my leaving Du Weldenvarden, but perhaps it might reassure you to know that I have been planning on meeting with Brom on a matter of great importance."
"A matter import enough to garner your attention, Eragon Vraelson?"
"Indeed, though I had rather hoped that we could retain an air of familiarity past recognition for our parents, Islanzadisdaughter."
"You heard, I'm sure, of my leaving," Arya said, her eyes determinedly set in front of her. Eragon searched her face carefully before speaking.
"I was never one for rumors. Alas, I am far too trusting of my own eyes and ears to forsake them for another's."
"Then I hope that you can trust in my eyes and ears, Eragon, for I can no longer be Islanzadisdaughter. That title belongs to the child left in the forest."
"Age is not constituted by years alone, Arya... If it does, then this is a war of children and elderly, not of villains and cowards."
"And then which are you? A villain, or coward?" Arya's eyes flashed towards Eragon before returning to the path before them. Eragon frowned.
"Do not presume to know me so quickly, Drottingu. I am neither a book to be read or a flute to be played. However, this journey is long and time slow. I shall tell you the tales of my crimes, but you may not want to hear them. To speak truly, I am the worst of both."
"I did not mean-"
"Yes you did," Eragon interrupted with a chuckle. "But it is quite alright. I spent many years in the company of humans and elves alike. You should know that I am not quick to offense."
"You are a strange one," Arya noted after a long moment of silence. Eragon only laughed.
"Says the child ambassador."
With Ceris come and gone, Eragon and Arya ran on foot southwards. For the journey to the Beors, they would be entirely alone and more or less open to attack. As such, it was in the best interests of the two that they hurry on their way but Eragon could not help but force them to stop as they grew close to Hedarth.
"What is it?" Arya asked testily. Eragon, by now familiar with even her harsher mannerisms, did not allow himself to rise to the bait.
"You must prepare yourself. You must have heard of the other races' behavior to our kind but words alone will leave you bare to the scrutiny of the eyes of men and dwarves. The men of the Varden shall distrust you though you serve as their liaison to the elves. To the eyes of men, women are inferior and unfit for battle. The dwarves will be wary and, depending on the clan from which they hail, could be quick to offense or violence even though they have longer dealt with elves. Hospitality for a guest may be gone within moments if you offend the wrong people."
"If they are so easily offended, then why are they the ones to speak to me?"
"It is the nature of a leader to be cautious, especially of unfamiliar faces. They do not know you and shall not be accepting. You must find a balance between strength and humility with which to face each dignitary that you meet. But, most of all, you must not let them degrade you. If a dwarf grimstborith does not respect you, they may lose respect for elves. You are the face of a nation now, Arya, and you must behave as such."
"You speak as if you no longer belong to the elves."
"Perhaps I don't. The span I lived within Du Weldenvarden is better measured in months than years."
"... I have never truly asked you. How old are you, Eragon?"
"I don't truly know myself. I haven't paid the count much attention after my hundredth year of service in the Order."
"Did you have students?" Arya asked softly. Eragon looked to her, shocked that she would ask before reminding himself that it was common knowledge that most riders were given the opportunity to teach after serving, learning, and surviving in the Order for a century. He smiled sadly.
"Aye, I did. Kuarai and Cyainir were their names. They were rare and talented students, very dedicated to their studies even though they had spent less than a year as riders."
"Will you tell me about them?"
"Perhaps later. For now, it is key that we get to Farthen Dur. Brom has already been recalled to the Varden and Weldon has been notified of our coming. How have you progressed in the common tongue?"
"It is a strange language, but I am growing used to it."
"Your fluency will improve in time. In the meantime, I will be available to translate."
"... Does the Varden know what you are?" Arya asked softly. Eragon's face was smooth but Arya knew him well enough to look to his eyes. Eragon could master his expression all he liked but his eyes always provided a hint as to where his thoughts were directed.
"That is a question that can only be answered once we are before Weldon. I swore Brom to no oaths when he last left Du Weldenvarden...However, if he hasn't lost caution to grief, I believe he has told the Varden as little as possible. He is just as aware as I that, the fewer people who know of my or Oromis' continued existence, the safer."
"Is he so trustworthy?" Arya asked, frowning.
"Are you?" Eragon asked lightly, a smile playing at his lips. "I trust Brom, yes. He is, despite his loss, a good man. His tongue is untempered, at least when last we met, but he honors his loyalties admirably."
"You are strikingly honest with me."
"There is no need for me to be dishonest."
"I could be a terrible ambassador."
"You could, but I don't believe it to be likely. Your heart is invested in this as heavily as mine and Brom's... You may hide it well, but you crave justice. You will not allow this to end in any way that does not end in Galbatorix's fall, if only for the memory of your father."
Arya did not speak but Eragon knew she was dancing a delicate line between furious and content. He doubted that anyone had spoken much of her father outside of his duties as king though he had performed them well. Eragon had only met the king a few times in his life but he had known him enough to know that the king was much more than his crown.
"You should know, Arya, that you were his joy. Do not lose yourself in your quest for vengeance."
Neither spoke, even as they were met with the quiet activity of the Dwarven trading post. Hedarth was emptier than Eragon had ever seen it and it was impossible to fail noticing the scorched earthen buildings. The Forsworn left their mark, even so far from Galbatorix's borders.
War leaves its mark on all of us.
A/N: This is it for Vraelson. Again, the story will be marked as in-progress for now. More news soonish.