Eragon raced through the halls, his mind spinning

Eragon raced through the halls; his head spinning. Everyone was in chaos, not even sure what was going on. The muddled crowd of nobles, servants, and palace people was so thick; it seemed there was an endless sea of faces.

But he had to get to his room now! Saphira and the dragonling's lives could depend on it! Even one second could make a difference now. He cut through the crowds of surprised people. They moved aside like lost sheep, going whichever way the shepherd pushed them. Still, the going was slow and painful. Eragon didn't even want to think about anything else but his endangered dragon. But it was hard not too.

Strange things prodded his side, trying to cut at his skin and random bodies smashed against him, pushing him back. He hadn't felt this claustrophobic in forever. The crowd seemed to be pushing the opposite way; away from his room and towards the palace exit. They slowed the going and soon Eragon became disoriented. But he couldn't waste time! He quickly assessed where most were coming from; most likely the palace rooms. He jumped up, seeing a towering staircase twenty feet to his left.

The see of face and the smells of the crowd befuddled his frantic mind and soon he could feel his body tiring. Soon, there may be no chance for his poor dragon. With one final push, he rammed the crowd, going several feet forward. Here the crowd was less dense and he managed to break out with only no time to spare. Behind him, Aiedail follow, confused and frightened. The crowd pushed her back. But she persisted forward, with far less strength or stamina.

But he couldn't stop. Not even for her. He raced though the all too familiar corridors, going as fast as possible with out missing or passing any turns. Now was not the time to get lost, nor take a wrong turn for even a second.

Soon he made it to his door. Wasting no time, he yanked it open to reveal turmoil within. Everything was tossed around and it faintly smelled of smoke. Nothing seemed to be missing on first glance; except for the giant dragon usually in the center!

Where are you Saphira? He called out frantically over their link, dismayed to find it not there.

"Saphira?" he called out gently aloud, unsure there was even anyone to answer. As if on cue, he heard a soft, moping growl from beneath him. He removed the rug and opened the door.

To his relief, Saphira lay curled up around a tiny, wriggling, and scaly green blob. "You're both alright." But Saphira still didn't respond. The little dragonling struggled under her claws, stirring and attempting to get free.

Eragon could feel their mental link was dead. Her mind wasn't even there. And there was something…hostile in her eyes. Their blue hue was harsh, icy. Bloodlust shone through her eyes. She gave a low growl, as if defending the hatchling from her own Rider. He backed off, dumbfound. What had happened to her in the time he was gone? Her tail drummed a warning dance to him, daring him to come closer. Her body swaying from side to side, readying for a fight. All her body postures were cruel, hostile. Opposite of the Saphira he'd seen twenty minutes ago.

He took another step back and she quieted; her teeth still bore out at him. Like he was her enemy. He figured it be best just to stay still, wait for her to make a move. He seemed to be making progress, the dragon lowering her head to the floor.

At that moment, the door burst open to reveal a frantic Aiedail. Relief danced into her eyes as she saw her dragon; he started struggling wildly as he felt her. It was obvious to Eragon their link was unharmed. But why, then, was Saphira behaving so strange?

"I was so worried. What happened?" She said, quickly moving towards Saphira's side. Her motions were sudden, disarmed, disrespectful. Saphira began to sway again…

Eragon tried to warn her. "Aiedail, stop!" he yelled, but he was too late. As she turned to give him a questioning look, Saphira rose on her hind legs; towering above them. Her deep wings unfrilled; her head scraping the ceiling. She blocked all light but that of the open doors; fire flaring from the slits in her nose. It gave her blue scales a menacing, blacked appearance. Her teeth bore fully, ready for a fight. Every edge on her body was sharp. Even the softish gold of her underbelly seemed to be steal. She thrummed her tail and flapped her wings. She gave a deep monstrous growl from the pit of her core; Aiedail finally aware of the danger behind her.

Before she could even turn around, Saphira raised her monster claws to the ceiling, scraping it softly, and lunged at Aiedail, striking her hard on the shoulder. Aiedail gave the most unearthly cry and doubled-over into Eragon's arms with the momentum, blood gushing from the fresh gouge on her shoulder. The dragonling behind Saphira howled in unison, attempting to rush to his Rider's side. Saphira snapped her tail in his path, wrapping it around the baby.

Set off by the cry of hatchling, Saphira sent out a torrent of flame. Eragon pushed the dazed and shocked Aiedail over, bringing her to her knees just before the flame gushed overhead. Before she had time for another attack, Eragon smashed Aiedail out the door and quickly followed as well, landing square on her bleeding shoulder by mere chance. She groaned in pain.

Eragon flew up at lightning speed, shutting the door to prevent further attack. He stood for a moment, feeling the beating of Saphira's tail come to a cease and the pained cries of the hatchling becoming the only audible thing.

Sure the danger had passed; Eragon turned his attention to Aiedail and her wounded shoulder. He knew he couldn't heal it, not with last time's disastrous results anyway.

"What happened, Eragon?" Aiedail murmured. "I've never seen her so…wild."

"Neither have I." Eragon answered. The worst experience he'd had with her was nothing compared with this. Then she'd still let him in. Well, eventually. But right now, they had no link. It was as if Saphira'd gone…wild…She would have killed them without a second glance. He could see it in her eye. But what could have done this? He got a feeling it had a lot to do with the attack.

Aiedail's soft groan bought his focus back to the most pressing issue. How do you help an elf whose body attacks you every time you've tried to before? She seemed dazed as the pool of blood grew on the floor.

"Somebody get some help over here!" He yelled, not sure anyone would actually hear him. Between the pained peeping of the distressed hatchling behind him to the attack causing everyone to leave this area, he wasn't sure anyone could come; much less would to save someone.

Luckily, a guard rounded the corner that moment. He took one look at her and then the mighty rider and suddenly there was an expression of solemn embarrassment on his face. Little had Eragon known this was the same man who, on the day Aiedail had first came to Aberon, given her grief about her appearance and such. Almost struck her, as-a-matter-of-fact.

He came to her side quickly and he helped support her while Eragon wrapped it in her busted-up sleeves. As he held her, he could help but notice the silver mark on her palm. This wrench was the final Rider? Eragon's sharp gazed caught where his eyes rested.

"You are not to say anything, am I clear?" Eragon growled, pulling the bandage tight. From behind the door, the peeping intensified a bit as Aiedail let out a groan.

"Yes, Argetlam." He said firmly.

"I mean it. I will hunt you down so fast if you say a word." He threatened. The man looked in disbelief.

Aiedail stirred uneasily as Eragon tried to figure out what to do. He had far to many other things to worry about this. But since she was here and hurt, he needed to deal with her right now. He gently swept her up into his arms, the guard helping secure her wounded shoulder. He could hear the baby dragon's frantic peeping as he tried to get to her side and a loud, warning hough came from Saphira.

"I can take it from here." He said softly, so not to set his dragon into another frenzy. Her tail started to beat a soft warning dance in response to the sound.

The man glance at the door, as if somehow seeing the danger behind it. He lowered his voice, barely audible through the dragonling's soft cries. "Do you want me to go ahead, prepare the infirmary for her arrival?" he asked.

"No, I can't trust her with them. She needs expert care." He said. It was time to pay Angela another visit.

He looked at the weakened elf girl and then at the Rider before finally taking off as Saphira houghed again. Eragon silently moved away, careful even with Aiedail's weight not to give Saphira cause for another freak out.

A sole candle burned, cutting through the thick darkness. In the darkness, the shape of a girl silhouetted in the thick dark sat. Despite her snow white complexion, her figure was well shrouded. It was almost as if some curse flicked off the candlelight, bouncing it back to oblivion. Her jet black hair deeply contrasted her large, bright purple eyes. Bangs hid a star shaped scar, the only thing that caught the light as she turned. Her thin lips curled up into a smile.

"Eragon's coming." She said. Her voice was cool and crisp and seemed to belong to someone way beyond her years. From the candle lit desk, there came a sigh. A woman at the desk scowled.

"You knew that, didn't you?"

"Months in advance." The girl replied. "Saphira attacked Aiedail." The woman gave her a puzzled look.

"Wha-oh never mind. You never know the whys, do you?"

"Nope. Only fact and not." The girl answered, seeming to enjoy seeing the woman flustered.

The woman let out another annoyed sigh. She got up, moving to the door faster then her slightly anemic face entailed she could. At the door, a young man with an even younger girl in his arms stood, just about to knock. The girl's shoulder was bandaged with a crude piece of cloth, her face filled with the anguish of her wound. She ushered him in, allowing him to place the girl on a plain, grey bed.

She was conscious, but it would be better if she wasn't. She was about to murmur the spell which could put her out, till Eragon suddenly grabbed her arm and shook his head.

"No," he said. "No magic on her. She has a condition where she no one can heal her."

"Ahh so a very young one then." She said. "I've got just the thing." She shuffled to her desk side and pulled out a small vile of viscous liquid. As she damped her cloth with it, Eragon wondered if anyone didn't know that elves couldn't control their powers. Every healer had said just what he'd found out the hard way. Annoyed, he returned his attention to Aiedail's wounds.

He carefully unbound the wound and was a bit surprised. The skin on a young elf, a healer had claimed, would heal itself. But it hadn't even began. He grimaced at the wound, shock and surprise soaking through like the blood through the cloth. As Angela approached the bed, a similar look mirrored on her face.

Within seconds she recovered and did what Angela always did best. Shooing people away. "Go, right now. Don't you have a pair of dragons to attend to?"

"How did you-"

"Never mind that now. Go and find out what's wrong with your girl."

Okay dudes. I know what you are probably thinking. I waited this long for such a dinky chapter? But hear me out. I had 0 inspiration on this for a while. I think part of my writing brain went snap. I am actually pretty proud of how it turned out. For being such a dinky chapter, it is going to be quite useful…you'll see what I mean…