A/N: Hey guys! Chapter 3 is here, so throw those hands up! I also accept donations. Kidding. But I have to say, I had a BLAST writing this chapter! It's the longest too! I don't know why I'm putting exclamation points on the end of everything! Anyway, in all seriousness, review if you like. :) Please?

EDIT: I am really sorry, my computer went haywire when I was removing an A/N, so chapter 4 is at the end of the chapter list at the moment, though it won't be once I update again... ARGH... so just look for chapter 4 lower in the list, please, until I can find time to sort everything out. Thanks! I know this is really strange.

Chapter 3

Arya sat cross-legged in Angela's tent, probing the minds of the creatures around her, waiting for the herbalist. She had come mostly to please Angela, but partially because Eragon had told her about the prophecy she had told him when he met her in Teirm. Perhaps what her palm read could actually be true.

Arya sighed as she thought of her situation with her mother; nobody else knew anything of it, not even Eragon or Nasuada, her most loyal friends and confidants. She more than wished she could do something about her predicament. She knew Orrin's small-minded decision had done nothing to help matters.

When Arya finally looked up a few minutes later, she realized the witch Angela was standing over her. She jumped at the sight of her piercing, beady brown eyes, and her wildly curly brown hair, which, at the moment was standing up every which way because of the currently string winds.

"Why so pensive, Arya Svit-kona?" Angela asked.

"I was just… brooding," Arya admitted.

"No need to stew in your own juices, elf," said Angela, "come now, sit at my table, time to get your pretty hand read."

Angela bustled about, pulling odd knickknacks from several large trunks, and finally at last a glittering purple turban that made the elf laugh melodically.

"Please don't," Arya pleaded, as Angela sat.

"I figured it was a bit much. Just trying to humor you."

Arya smiled. "Eragon informed me that while you still resided in Teirm, that you gave him five prophecies. What were they?"

"Ah, yes," said the witch doctor reminiscently, "I remember that day well. The young Shadeslayer came to me—of course he was no Shadeslayer then—and I read his knucklebones."

Wondering what this meant, Arya asked, "What were the prophecies, and did any of them come true?"

"Can a witch really remember them all? Let me see, there was something about a, a long life… and something about a romance… but you need not worry, my dear, that is not what we're here for." Angela snatched Arya's hand up and ran her fingers over her satiny smooth palm.

"Ah, yes. I suppose a long life line can be expected. Hmmm…"

Angela examined Arya's palm for the better part of five minutes before speaking again. "You have a very long heart line. It means your heat is broken far too easily. It's a delicate thing, the heart. Guard yours well."

Such gibberish, Arya thought, if I wanted to dither, I could have gone to Eragon.

"Oh, my! Would you just look at that head line?" Angela raved, holding Arya's hand closer to her face. "It's all too fitting, I dare-say. You elves have no imagination!"

"Pardon me?" asked Arya

"Your head line is straight as a board!" Angela exclaimed. "You do know what that means?"

Arya shook her head.

"Of course not. It means your much to reasonable a thinker. It takes real effort to throw you. But we already knew that much."

Arya couldn't help but wonder if the herbalist was making this up. She had known Angela in Ellesmera; that was quite a time ago. Surely she had picked up some of her character.

"Short. Shallow. Straight. It's amazing what palms can tell," Angela whispered to herself, then said to Arya, "If I had done this the day I met you, we might've prevented many problems."

Arya stood, suddenly fed up with how little good this venture had done her. "I'll be going now, Angela. Erm… thank you, for your time."

"Oho, you think I'll be letting you off so soon, elf? You're sorely mistaken."

Now matter how Arya argued, Angela still refused to release her. She thought of simply knocking the witch unconscious, but abandoned her pleas.

"Sit," Angela ordered roughly, leaving the tent to return a few minutes later with a steaming kettle. Arya glared at the herbalist, irritated, chiding herself for even agreeing to come.

"The leaves will tell." Angela smiled knowingly into her cup. "Perhaps fortune-telling works better on elves…"

Arya stared obstinately at the cup Angela had placed in front of her.

"What are you waiting for?" Angela demanded. "The sooner you drink, the sooner the tea is gone, the sooner I can read your leaves, the sooner you can leave. So drink!"

Slowly, Arya lifted the cup to her porcelain lips and abruptly downed the scorching hot liquid in a most un-ladylike manner.

"Well if that's the way you feel about it," Angela stated, grabbing the cup. Well be darned, you've drank too much! You'll have to have another cup."

Arya watched with growing fury as the herbalist brewed an additional cup of tea.

The elf princess imbibed the next cup just as quickly as the first, with Angela shouting, "Leave some liquid at the bottom of the cup, mind you!"

When Arya had grudgingly passed the cup to Angela, the witch swirled the cup three times and then, tipped the cup over onto the sauce she had just retrieved.

"Hmmm…" Angela said, "Hmm…"

"What do you see?" Arya asked.

"Many things await you, Arya Svit-kona," the witch said in an un-earthly tone. "It is for you to decide whether it is good or bad."

"What do you see? Arya repeated impatiently.

"It is… indistinct. Now off with you!"

As Arya fled the tent, she wondered if whether Angela was keeping something from her.

Hope you like! Remember to review! Please! I did this on a whim of inspiration, and I was a teensy bit distracted, so I made any grammatical errors, please tell me! Also, I still need suggestions for my new story!

-PEACE OUT :))