A/N: Thank you to all who reviewed! Hopefully this chapter is better than the other two – I tried to make it a bit longer. Also a bit of a filler, but don't worry, action will be coming in soon enough.
Aj: Thank you for pointing that out. As for finishing by November 8th, I'm not too sure if I can pull that off. There's a lot of stuff that needs to happen before the story ends, and I have school and extracurricular stuff going on. We'll see. I'll do my best!
EminemBitches – Yeah, agreed, that first chapter wasn't terribly original. I'll do my best to make the upcoming chapters better in that regard. Thank you!
Lightningkid333 – Thanks for the input. I do my best to capture emotions well, but it's hard to get right sometimes.
Chapter 3: A Celebration
Eragon's few hours atop Saphira were far from peaceful. In fact, he spent so much time squabbling over the upcoming celebration that he hardly enjoyed the beautiful sight laid out before him. From their height among the clouds, the decimated city of Feinster was the only blot on the beautiful landscape. To the west, Eragon could make out the shoreline of the ocean; to the east, the thin, snaking line of the Jiet River. To the North, although unseen, was their next destination in their conquest: Belatona.
Eragon, Saphira sighed. Celebrations are meant to be enjoyed. They're called celebrations for a reason.
And how am I supposed to enjoy a dance when I have nobody to dance with?
A sound not unlike rocks scraping against each other came from Saphira's throat as she laughed. You have more people to dance with than I care to count.
Eragon waved his hand impatiently. That isn't what I meant.
Then what did you mean?
Nobody I care to dance with wishes to dance with me.
And who do you care to dance with? she asked innocently.
Eragon snorted. Who do you think?
Perhaps asking Arya at this time is not the wisest choice you could make. Especially after the … incident between you two yesterday.
Perhaps not. Still, though, Orrin said quite clearly that I had to dance with someone. And she seems to be the only viable choice at the moment.
Saphira pondered his words for a moment. Hmm. You could dance with Nasuada; I'm sure as your liege-lord she would hardly want to risk humiliating you by turning down your offer.
I don't wish to alienate Orrin, Eragon said with a laugh. He would be consumed by jealousy. Just look at his eyes when he watches her during the meetings. It has become quite apparent as of late.
Indeed, she acknowledged. In that case, then, it seems that you are in the right.
He smiled. For once.
They soared together for a time, simply basking in each other's presence. Although they did not voice the sentiment, both Rider and Dragon knew that their time alone would become more and more restricted the closer they neared to Galbatorix's stronghold.
I wish all days could be like this, he murmured.
Saphira agreed, As do I.
Minus the celebrations.
Saphira snorted. Oh, be quiet, Eragon. You will be fine.
We'll see about that.
Saphira let his statement fade into oblivion as they watched the sun fall beneath the horizon. Look. It has begun.
Following her gaze, he noticed that the celebrations had indeed begun in earnest.
Let me down in the square, he told her, indicating an open area in the center of the city. Eragon imagined it must have been quite a place before the war. Now, all that remained were a few fountains that no longer functioned and ashen trees. I certainly won't be shedding any tears when we depart for Belatona.
Eragon looked for the keep in the center of the city, which was where the feast was going to be held. The tower was not hard to find; it dwarfed the surrounding buildings and its height was nearly four times that of any structure in the city, save for the cathedral. Memories flooded him as he neared it.
***** From Brisingr
The three magicians stood with their arms outstretched, swaying and chanting in the ancient language. The words of their spell rang with unusual force and lingered in the air long after they should have faded to silence. The man who sat at their feet gripped his knees, his entire body shuddering as he trashed his head from side to side.
As Eragon moved toward the female spellcaster, a cluster of multicolored lights hurtled into the room through the broken shutters and converged upon the man seated on the floor.
…
"Our name is Varaug," said the Shade. "Fear us."
Get a grip, he scolded himself. It's in the past. He entered the tower, pushing aside the wooden doors as if they were feathers. A dozen soldiers were waiting on the inside.
"Shadeslayer," they greeted, bowing. "The others are convened up three flights of stairs in the first door on the right."
He thanked them and continued on. As he approached his destination, he noticed remnants of the fight with the Shade that still had not been repaired. Shattered windows, holes in walls, and shaky stairs lined his path to the feast. Of all the places in the city, they pick the one where the fiercest battle took place, Eragon grumbled to himself. Finding himself at the door, he cleared his throat and made an effort to tame his windswept hair, combing it with his fingers, before entering the room.
The spacious room had been duly decorated for the cause. Any damage from the fight against Varaug had been tidied up or repaired. Eragon knew that it had most likely been at Feinster's expense. Fine chandeliers lined the ceiling, and candles were spread out over the table. Assembled were Nasuada, Arya, Jormundur, Orrin, and various other generals of the Varden, as well as some of the higher-ranking nobles of Feinster. The only seat left empty was the one to Nasuada's right, near the head of the table, and directly opposite from Arya.
Upon Eragon's entrance, the group rose to their feet and greeted him one-by-one. He grumbled inwardly at the formalities, but knew they were necessary.
"Well met, Shadeslayer. I have always wished to meet the infamous Rider of the Varden."
"Ah, Eragon Shadeslayer. At last we meet."
After acquainting himself with each of the nobles, Eragon took his seat. Taking his cue, the others soon followed. When everyone was comfortably seated and the buzz of conversation had ceased, Nasuada rose to her feet. "Welcome, all, to this celebration of victory – a victory of freedom from tyranny. Feinster is no longer crushed under the dark king's iron grip. And together, Arya, Eragon, and his dragon Saphira removed an evil blot on the land of Alagaesia. Mere minutes after the Shade's creation, Arya plunged her sword into the fiend's heart. To Arya Shadeslayer and Eragon Shadeslayer, and to Saphira Brightscales for their valor," she finished triumphantly, raising a glass.
All around them, glasses clinked as the guests repeated, "To Arya and Eragon Shadeslayer, and to Saphira."
Nasuada cleared her throat to return attention. "With that said, let the feast begin!" At her words, servants entered the room with steaming piles of food – more food than Eragon had seen in quite some time.
Leaning over to Nasuada, he whispered, "How did you manage to come up with the money for this?"
She smiled in response. "It seems that Feinster was more than happy to be freed from Galbatorix's clutches. In return for our service, many of the nobles have opened up their riches to us."
"That is good news, indeed."
"Aye."
Eragon turned his attention to the food in front of him. He knew that this was likely to be the finest meal he would partake in for quite some time, yet something was bothering him. Across the table, he noticed Arya was less than enthusiastic about the plate in front of her as well; in fact, she was looking at him.
Eragon raised an eyebrow in question. "Is it bothering you as well?" she queried.
He did not need to ask what she was talking about. Varaug. "Aye," he whispered.
***** From Brisingr
"You shall die," growled Varaug. "You shall all die for imprisoning us in this cold, hard clay."
…
Eragon and Varaug battled at the speed of thought, fighting back and forth along the perimeter of the Shade's mind, which was a landscape so jumbled and incoherent, Eragon feared it would drive him mad if he gazed at it for long.
…
Eragon's concentration eventually wavered, and Varaug seized upon the opportunity to force himself further into Eragon's mind, trapping him... transfixing him... suppressing his thoughts until Eragon could do no more than stare at the Shade with dumb rage. An excruciating tingling filled Eragon's limbs as the spirits raced through his body, coursing down every one of his nerves.
Eragon and Arya awoke simultaneously with a jerk as they remembered where they were. Nasuada was gazing between the two of them with worry; the others had been too busy in their conversations and food to notice.
"Eragon, Arya – what happened?"
They glanced at each other before Eragon answered. "It is nothing to be concerned about, Mi'lady. Do not trouble yourself overmuch."
Nasuada looked doubtful, but returned to her meal without further comments. Arya and Eragon continued to look at each other.
Try not to lose yourself in her eyes, Eragon, Saphira chuckled. He ignored her.
"Do remnants of the Shade always haunt the slayer afterward?" Arya whispered.
"I'm not sure. After Durza, I was lost within his memories; my mind was filled with darkness. Oromis shielded me, though. The worst was blocked out."
"And what of Varaug?" For once, Arya seemed uncertain. This was new territory for her.
"For that, I have no answer. We slayed him though, and neither of us were lost in his mind; I managed to retreat just before your sword pierced his heart. We will be fine."
"Aye, together we slayed him."
***** from Brisingr
In a flash, Eragon freed himself from Varaug. Without consideration for his own safety, he resumed his attack on the Shade's consciousness, his only thought to restrain the Shade for a few moments.
Varaug rose onto one knee, then faltered as Eragon redoubled his efforts.
"Get him!" Eragon shouted.
Arya lunged forward, her dark hair flying …
And she stabbed the Shade through his heart.
They awoke again, but as they returned to consciousness, Eragon and Arya felt renewed with vigor.
"He's gone," they whispered. The last shard of Varaug's evil presence had been eliminated.
Suddenly, Eragon found himself ravenous. Noticing that everyone else was nearly finished, he tore into his food with a reckless abandon and cleared his plate within minutes, sitting back and releasing a satisfied belch. Nasuada and Arya stared at him in horror. "My apologies," he said, grinning. Arya simply shook her head with a small smile and returned to her plate.
After everyone finished, Nasuada again stood up and announced, "Now that we are done here, we can head to the part of the night everyone has looked forward to the most – the dance! To the celebration hall!" Eragon groaned, but nobody noticed; they were already on their feet in excitement.
Eragon trudged with heavy feet and a heavy heart to what he believed to be his impending doom. On his way there, he noticed a number of staggering drunks. They certainly have not been holding back.
Few have, came Saphira's hazy, unfocused thought. Confirming his suspicions, Eragon checked on her current state to find her emptying an alarming amount of mead.
Everything in moderation, Saphira! he warned.
I AM A DRAGON!
Conceding her point, Eragon left her to her business, knowing full well that she would apologize in the morning. He arrived at the hall to find a vast number of people already on the floor. Apparently, they had started the dance without him. In his mind, it was something to be thankful for.
"Eragon! Join us!" came a booming voice. Looking around, Eragon found its owner to be none other than King Orrin. In his arms was Nasuada, swaying to the sound of the music. Human minstrels, as well as a few of the elves, were playing a lively tune in the corner.
"Ah, yes. The dance. Well, you see, I do not have a partner, so unfortunately I –"
Orrin cut him off. "Foolishness! Look by the elves!"
Eragon followed his gaze and saw Arya to be standing by the rest of her kind. "Orrin," he whispered urgently. "I cannot ask her, of all people!"
"Nonsense. You will not leave until you do." Glaring at Orrin, but realizing he had no other way out, Eragon weaved his way through the crowd of dancers and slowed as he approached her. She looked over at him, and his heart stopped. She was beautiful: her raven-black hair, slim form, honey-colored skin, and above all, her emerald eyes. They transfixed him; he felt as if he could gaze into their depths until –
"Yes?" she asked quizzically.
What a fool I am! I walk up to her and proceed to stare with my mouth open! I will never get out of this one alive. "Arya Svit-Kona," he said, doing his best to recover himself, "I wish to ask if – if you would like to dance with me."
She raised her eyebrows at his request, then let out a small laugh at Eragon's expression. Eragon thought it was the most beautiful sound he had ever heard.
"You look as if you think I am about to throw you out the window!"
Eragon tried, and failed, to rearrange his expression into a more natural one. "Well, yes, I thought that perhaps you – "
She smiled. "Come with me," she said, holding out a hand.
Eragon took it with an expression of wonder on his face. Dancers cleared the way for them as they moved to the center of the room. As they began to dance, Eragon was at first awkward in his movements, but quickly gained confidence as they progressed. Arya was, as expected, extremely fluid and graceful in her movements. For this one time, she permitted contact between Eragon and herself as wrapped his arm around her back. Eragon found his gaze attracted to her eyes, and Arya, for reasons unknown, did not remove her eyes from his.
Unbeknownst to either of them, the floor slowly began to clear, leaving Eragon and Arya alone in the center and spectators to marvel at the sight. So lost were they in the rhythm of the music that they scarcely recognized that they were the only pair left.
"When did you ever become so skilled a dancer?" she asked with what seemed like genuine curiosity. "I can hardly believe you would have had time for that during your travels with Brom or during your training under Oromis."
"You are right in that matter," he replied. "In Carvahall, we would hold dances every year. I hated going to them, but Roran would always make me. That was where he met Katrina."
"And did you ever meet anyone you fancied there?"
"Never," Eragon said solemnly. The song drew to a close, and Eragon bowed and thanked her for the dance, to which she gave a nod of her head. "It seems as if everyone is leaving. May I accompany you to your tent?" he asked, hoping he was not going too far.
She considered his request with an impassive face for a moment. "Perhaps," she answered, and promptly turned and started walking away.
Curses! A yes or a no would have been nice. Although if she didn't want me to, she would have said no. With this in mind, he quickly caught up to her. On the way to her tent, they talked companionably of many things, few of which were of importance.
"Good night, Arya Svit-Kona," he said after they had reached her tent.
"Good night, Eragon."
Heading back to his tent, he checked on Saphira's state to find her snoozing outside.
All in all, not a bad night, he thought as he drifted into the alternate world he called his dreams.
A/N: Please review! You will make me really happy if you do! I will do my best to reply to everyone who does review.