Another filler sort of chapter: I am trying to slow it all down a bit. Point out any mistakes. I just realised how much has actually happened in the last few chapters, so there won't be much for a while. At least I don't think so. Tell me what you think of this chapter, what is good and what is bad. I really didn't want Eragon mourning for much longer
When compared to an average marching army the elves would be seen as revolutionary, or perhaps foolish. The small groups of warrior floating gracefully across the now frost bitten soil would be rendered utterly useless if they were ambushed by any enemy force of decent size; it would be virtually impossible for them to form a defensive battle line, the fighting would degenerate into bitter skirmishes. An easy, simple victory and the elves formidable reputation would soon disappear.
Just so they can spare the land a little suffering, Eragon wondered, shaking his head slightly in disbelief.
They had been spotted. Individual elves were now pointing towards Saphira, even from the distance separating them their joy at her appearance was obvious, here and there brief outbreaks of soft laughter could be heard, just, carried upon the wind like secret passed from one generation to the next.
"The elves need no God as long as they have you Saphira."
"You... are just jealous," Saphira replied smugly, certain of success.
Eragon snorted and patted her playfully, "Believe what you wish dragon."
Satisfied, Saphira lapsed into a complacent silence and concentrated on her flying.
She tipped downwards and her riders leaned forward slightly, they passed through the clouds swiftly, with a small pull. Eragon found himself drizzled in water as they emerged. By now Saphira's arrival was a general consensus amongst the elves and most had stopped, waiting for her to land. Islanzadi's entourage could be seen at the head of the 'army', they were the only mounted troops amongst the elves; their steeds mirroring the elves unconscious grace... and their vanity.
Arya tapped his shoulder lightly to draw his attention. Eragon turned slowly. She wasn't looking at him; instead focused upon Islanzadi and her companions.
"May I help?" Eragon asked, raising one intense eyebrow.
She turned to look at him, "We should land over there," pointing with one slender arm to a clearing some distance from Islanzadi.
Eragon ignored her outstretched arm, "Worry not..." he whispered, allowing his gaze to flicker downwards, lingering over the captivating swell of her breasts and then continuing downwards.
Arya frowned at his scrutiny, troubled.
"I'm up here Eragon," she stated, calm, collected, and to Eragon utterly seductive.
"I disagree, the view is better down here."
Two eyes flying upwards, Arya stared at Eragon in astonishment. Eragon smiled at her reaction and turned back to the front; he could feel Saphira's rolling laughter underneath him. Arya did not respond.
"You will live to regret this Eragon."
"I regret nothing," lacing his voice with false bravado.
The ground was now rushing to meet them, each speck of dust coming into focus as if under sagacious magnification. A small crash marked Saphira's entrance into the playpen of elven politics. Guarding his thoughts and reviewing his shields Eragon slipped off Saphira's left side, Arya close behind him, carefully placing a dignified distance between the two as she landed. Her withdrawn behaviour only served to amuse Eragon further.
Breaking the silence, Eragon said, "Let us proceed."
"Yes... let's," her tone neutral, completely guarded, as it had been when they first met.
(Separate)
Their journey was short, yet tense; each step on the compact and somewhat icy ground supplemented emotions and thoughts. Neither glanced at the other.
Islanzadi was to be found standing at the centre of a group of elven nobles, her face cold, unforgiving, so much like her daughters. Eragon and Arya approached at a respectable pace and bowed slightly to Islanzadi, Eragon somewhat bitterly. He had never trusted Islanzadi, no matter whose mother she was.
No one spoke for a span of some minutes: Islanzadi kept her eyes cast towards Arya, who in turn seemed to be contemplating her shoes for some great secret. Whilst Eragon let his eyes wander over the hoard of nobles surrounding them, eyeing each suspiciously; they returned his gaze with caution and in some cases hostility.
"It seems the elves have been notified of our little encounter with the Menoa Tree," she remarked, she sounded disconcert, almost pained. It was unlike her.
"Hmmm... it seems so."
Eragon refused to cower at their glares and instead gazed back towards them with cold, frank eyes, daring them to mention the subject.
"Rider Eragon," Islanzadi called quietly, Eragon turned his cold stare onto her, "You bring grievous news, with the collapse of the Varden; our chances are significantly weakened, even if they were just a motley collection of your average human, they had their uses."
Eragon did not miss the condescending tone when she referred to the humans. The now familiar rage built up inside him, bristling and tearing at its chains. Eragon very dearly wanted to leap across the small distance separating him from the queen and pummel her brain out with his fists. Regulating his breathing Eragon struggled to reign in his temper, he made no secret of his emotions: his jaw tense and his eyes hard, venomous. The elf queen raised one sculpted eyebrow at his conduct but made no mention of it. From the corner of his eye Eragon could see Arya sending him worried looks, momentarily forgetting her anger towards him.
Saphira quiescently urged Eragon on, lending him her mental fortitude, "Calm yourself Eragon, fight this creatures influences, they do little to endear us to our allies."
"This imbecile of a woman will one day be brought low by her careless commentaries," Eragon fumed quietly to Saphira
It was Arya who intruded on Eragon and Islanzadi's silent battle, "Mother, the rider and I have had an uncomfortable flight, coupled with troubling memories; we would retire with your blessing."
Islanzadi did not shuffle her gaze throughout her daughter's impeachment and when she did respond it as to Eragon, "Go, you look worn rider, we shall soon be settling; I shall make sure a tent is erected for you. You are dismissed."
(Separate)
Eragon turned on his heels without a backwards glance and made his way towards a small copse of trees he had seen from Saphira's back. Arya following in his wake like a lost child.
The sun was sinking low over the horizon, basking the world in a beautiful display of orange and red, marking its exit from the theatre of mortals.
Eragon set a brisk pace and they toiled in silence, Arya constantly keeping a certain distance between them. The trees, when they reached them, were young and small, still learning the lessons of growth. Leaning against the rough bark Eragon stumbled to the ground, the amiable weeds dancing against the skin of his forearm. He watched as Arya proceeded to sit down against the same tree, leaving their un-spoken gulf to separate the two. She was collecting her thoughts to make a complaint, Eragon could tell from her facial features.
"Do you ever think Shur'tugal? Offending the queen is a fool's errand," she demanded, looking over the horizon.
"You heard what she said: she had no right," he replied, as he stared at the side of her angular face, bewitched by her charm.
Sighing she said in a world weary voice, "Even still, our goal is difficult enough without internal conflict."
She said no more neither did Eragon.
Her gaze never shifted whilst Eragon turned his to watch the elves as they set up tents and accommodations for the night, some using magic others nothing but their hands. They were swift, quicker than the humans had ever been, helped as they were by the magic that ran deep in their blood.
Each moment reflecting the last, Eragon settled himself comfortably as he continued to enjoy the drama.
(Small time lapse)
The tents took not much longer and soon Eragon was rising to leave. Saphira slowly uncoiled herself and made to take flight.
"Farewell princess, I shall see you later," he murmured, his voice fading with the light.
Still refusing to look at him Arya quietly replied, "Take care Eragon... remember what you represent for those who are free, what you mean to them, never lose yourself to this being," her voice dropping even lower so that Eragon had to strain to hear, "Remember what you mean to me..."
Her eyes still looking anywhere but him.
Eragon considered her, his eyes shining with intensity, trying to solve the puzzle that was Arya.
Still. Silent.
He left.
So what do you lot think? Good? Bad? One thing I need to know is Arya in character? Eragon is kind of OOC I know but I hate the stupid Eragon from the original IC.