Chapter 22- The Journey that Seemed to Take a Year Whilst I Worried About Whether a Horse would Take Offence…

CN: By the way, never try any of this at home and never try to get into a horse's mind; it's surprisingly difficult.

That night after he still had had increasing trouble on how to get onto a horse Eragon came up to me in a rather bad mood and said, "You need to learn how to fight." From the expression on his face it was evident that he wasn't going to get over this one in a hurry.

"Why? I have already defeated a Shade," I asked thinking of the fact that I now had the grace, brains, speed, strength, balance, flexibility and magic of an elf. I was ready.

"Yes but your power needs shaping, yielding. You need to be trained."

"And your going to do it," I questioned raising my eyebrows.

Arya looked over, attracted by my tone of voice.

"Yes," he said seriously, still oblivious to my brief stab at humour.

I nodded nervously. He pulled my sword out of the pack on the back of my horse and threw it to me expertly. I caught it and raised my eyebrows. He grinned and twirled Brisingr around his body, threw it in the air and caught it point first. Then flipped it round and caught the hilt with his little finger. I rolled my eyes and him showing off but secretly marvelled at the skill he possessed. Then again he was trained by the best.

"First we start with the basics," he told me a little too gleefully. I had a feeling that the basics weren't going to be fun.

After we had both blocked the edges of our swords he suddenly swung at me, I instinctively parried and spun away before looking at him accusingly. Rather than answering he just took the opportunity to land a blow on my shoulder.

From then on, no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't land a blow anywhere back. After what seemed like hours he finally proclaimed the session over and went back to sitting silently by the fire brooding.

The next morning I woke up groaning, my back, neck, chest, legs, head and arms were aching terribly. I crawled out of my sleeping bag and sat with my eyes closed near the fire. This sight seemed to stir some life back into Eragon who grinned and asked dryly, "Hurts a bit doesn't it?"

"Well nah!" I replied sarcastically.

"Be nice," Eragons horse said unexpectedly in my head. I looked up astonished to see it looking at me.

"No," I said rebelliously.

"Yes," it said and withdrew its mind.

Unfortunately I knew it was right- Eragon was trying to help. Still… "Told what to do by a horse," I muttered.

"What," Eragon asked smiling still.

"Nothing."

I smiled weakly back as he chuckled, getting up and looking around for Saphira.

I gently prodded a bruise on my left arm. Where my finger pressed the skin went pale and throbbed a bit. Then I studied the bandage around my left knuckle that I had placed the night before thanks to Eragon rapping my knuckles like a crabby old schoolteacher from the Victorian times. Apparently it had to stay there for a week. I moaned inwardly.

Afterwards I pulled myself up onto my hoarse and groaned. The horse beneath me, being an intelligent elven one, whinnied as if to ask whether I was okay. I smiled weakly and said quietly into his ear, "Its okay I'm fine; a bit sore that's all." The horse whinnied again this time in agreement; his expression said the feeling is mutual. This time I properly grinned and urged him after Eragon's horse in front who was now snorting in disgust at the way Eragon was handling him.

The journey to the next camp was a long one and the pain in everyones rear ends told them it wasn't going to be a comfortable one. I looked at the faces around me and grinned, Eragon's was betraying a hint of soreness under the cool stone act and Arya was openly grimacing as the horse bounced on and on relentlessly. It was like a role reversal. 'How much they've changed' I thought.

For a distraction from the soreness threatening to engulf me completely I looked at the beast underneath me. He was beautiful really. He was a deep chocolate brown colour with a light brown fudge coloured mane and tail. His large wide brown eyes were intelligent and caring. His hooves were delicate but strong and I could feel the rippling muscle under the saddle I was sitting on. He moved with a graceful lilting rhythm that was strangely comfy and special.

I reached out and brushed my fingers down his neck; the hair that was there was silky and fine whereas the hair on his back was coarse to support the saddle and bridle. The mane hair was soft and springy.

Unthinkingly I twisted it into a braid and it stayed in. He tossed is head playfully so that the braid came out and I mock- tapped him on the shoulder blade smiling widely. He nudged my finger with his muzzle and stole an apple out of my bag. I pretended not to notice so he did it again; this time I tapped him firmly on the nose to say he shouldn't do it but smiled so he knew I wasn't angry with him. He looked at me sheepishly with an expression almost identical to the one humans use and I muffled my giggle with my hand.

Then he spoke in my mind. I was so shocked I almost fell off him. "What's your name," he asked in a rather young and playful tone. It was pleasant and fresh so I answered as best I could, "Lily, my names Lily. What's yours?"

"Ilian," he answered.

"Happiness," I said without knowing how I knew.

"Yes," he sounded surprised.

"Well Ilian; no offence intended but I really hope this ride is over soon."

He snorted and neighed; the horse way of laughing.