Disclaimer: I own nothing! Erk.

A quick update for now, written in one (and a half) sitting!

Chapter 20: Invocations and Arrivals

Nasuada kept her arms around herself as she sat around the golden campfire. Around her, the other Riders were relaxing in their own ways. Eragon and Murtagh were talking in hushed voices. Every now and then, Nasuada's eyes would gravitate to Murtagh and quickly glanced away whenever the red Rider caught her staring.

Roran was leaning against a tree, close to dozing off. Arya sat on the branch of a pine tree though she barely looked alert. Katrina was already huddled by her tent, ready to crawl in and sleep anytime. She nodded to Nasuada, who nodded back. They were all tired and upset due to their separation from their dragons, and the prolonged waiting did them no good.

An elven woman's high, clear voice began to drift through the woods from the general direction of Silthrim. The faint threads of the notes brushed in Nasuada's hearing, and she looked around for the source. The other human Riders looked equally alarmed. The voice began to rise, louder and stronger. The forest itself seemed to sigh with the tantalizing, lilting melody. It rose and fell repeatedly, joined by more voices. They lent a hundred variations to the original rhythm, making the air shimmer with the sheer power of the music.

Joy and fear ran together within Nasuada, clouding her thoughts and drawing her to the source. She jumped to her feat, ready to tear the woods and search for the voices. She wanted to jump and dance through the forest, join in the elven revelry.

Arya jumped off her perch, alert all of a sudden. "Clear your mind!" she cried out. "Eyddr eyreya onr!" Empty your ears!

Everything fell silent, as if a thick veil muted all sounds in the forest. Nasuada looked around, confused. She did not understand what just happened and did not even realize that she was standing up. Around her, the other Riders were reacting in the same way. Lifaen and Nari were wrestling noiselessly with Orik, while Faolin stalked toward them with his hand outstretched.

The elven ambassador's mouth moved, and there was a loud pop. All the sound in the world came rushing in except for the music.

"What just happened?" Nasuada asked in confusion.

"Get off me," Orik growled, and the two elves restraining him backed away.

"Pardon us, Orik-vodhr," Lifaen said.

Faolin groaned. "I miscalculated the days. It would not be a good thing for you to be anywhere near an elven city during Dagshelgr. Our celebrations are not safe for mortals, be they human, dwarf or even Rider. Our songs are spoken in the ancient language, the words sung to weave spells of passion and longing. Even we find it difficult to resist that."

Nari walked around, wringing his hands. "We should be at a grove."

"That we should, but it is our duty to stay and wait."

Nasuada rubbed her arms even though she didn't feel particularly cold. She wished Solaris was with her to protect both of their minds from the music's influence. "This… Dagshelgr. What is it for?"

Arya sat on the ground and crossed her legs. "This celebration is done for us to keep the forest healthy and fertile. The elves sing for the trees, the plants and the animals every spring. Du Weldenvarden would not thrive this way without us." As if on cue, numerous animals – both predator and prey – left their hiding places and rushed about. "They're looking for mates. Every elf in the cities within this forest sing this song. The more participans, the stronger the spell, and the more Du Weldenvarden will fluorish this year."

A group of hedgehogs darted past Eragon, who was standing by the fire. Around them, the entire forest came alive with animal sounds. "It's like… I have stepped into a different world," he mumbled.

Displeased, Orik came around the fire. "By my beard and my ax, I will not have magic control me against my will! Ambassador Faolin, I swear on Helzvog's stone girdle that I will return to Farthen Dur and unleash the wrath of the Ingeitum upon you if this happens again!"

"Forgive me," Faolin said, bowing his head. "It was a mistake. I did not wish for any of you to experience Dagshelgr. While I am shielding you from this spell, the magic of Du Weldenvarden is a different matter. It pervades everything."

"So long as it does not befoul my mind again."

Nasuada crouched by the fire, her eyes on the golden glow that it provided. A quiet, longing ache built up within her, caused by the song that pervaded her mind before Arya and Faolin cleared it. She did not understand it, but it didn't make her sadness lessened.

Nobody dared sleep that night. The Riders accompanied Orik, unable to sleep because of the noise caused by the animals around them, and the elves remained awake to listen to the song. Lifaen and Nari paced endlessly, circling the camp. Faolin's eyes gravitated to Silthrim, a hungry and lonely look upon his face. Arya stood by her friends, head bowed.

Four hours later, the dragons arrived, their eyes sparkling with a strange light. Solaris towered over Nasuada, arching her neck and shivering. She began to pant. The forest is alive. I feel alive, and my blood burns like never before. It burns as yours burns whenever you think of Murtagh! I truly and fully understand it all now. She stalked toward Thorn, who stepped forward too.

Askanir shot into the sky, followed by Luneria. They circled each other in mid-air, eyes locked on each other. Saphira and Firnen imitated them. Solaris flew up, with Thorn coming after her. The dragons circled each other, locked in some kind of ritual that only they understood. Nasuada feared for them. What if the elves saw them and thought that the Forsworn were going to attack?

As quickly as it started, the dragons landed. There was a feeling of need and hunger within them that was unquenched, but none of them wished to elaborate.

By dawn, the trees had buds of bright green needles growing at the very ends of their branches. Every plant both big and small grew noticeably during the night. Vivid colors splashed on the forest, and it smelled like it had just rained.

Solaris shook herself. I am myself again. Forgive me for alarming you last night. I cannot fully understand what transpired last night, but it felt so… rejuvenating. The fire in my limbs and the feeling it gave me…

Are you well? Nasuada asked.

I am. But I must understand what I experienced, and what we did.

As the music ceased, Faolin lifted the spell from the humans and Orik. "Lifaen, Nari, please get horses for everyone in Silthrim. We cannot walk from here to Ellesmera. Alert Captain Damitha and tell her that Ceris will be in need of reinforcements."

Nari nodded. "But what must we tell her should she ask for the reason why we have desserted our post?"

"Tell her that the thing she is hoping for and fearing has finally ocurred, and the wyrm has bitten its own tail. Believe me, she shall understand."

The two elves bowed and left for Silthrim once all the supplies have been taken out of their boats. Hours passed, and they eventually returned on proud white stallions, leading nine similar horses with them. The beasts moved with stealth unlike any other steed, and their white coats seemed to shimmer in the semidarkness of the forest. They bore no saddles, and no harnesses.

"Blothr, blothr," Lifaen said. His steed halted and pawed at the ground.

"These are lovely," Katrina said, approaching one cautiously. The horse nuzzled the palm of her hand, and she smiled. "Are all of your horses like these?"

None of the stallions were more than a few inches taller than ponies, making it easy for them to traverse the closely placed trunks in the forest. None of them were particularly frightened or intimidated by the dragons, which was an impressive feat in itself.

"Not all," Nari said with a laugh. "But most of them are. We have carefully bred them for centuries."

Faolin hoisted himself up on the back of the nearest horse. "Elf horses respond immediately to commands, as long as they are spoken in the ancient language. Use it to tell them where you wish to go, and they will take you. Do not mistreat them with blows and harsh words for they are our slaves – they are our friends and partners."

Arya nodded and smiled. "It's been so long since I've ridden on one. They bear their riders only as long as they consent to do it. Riding one is considered a great privilege. My brother and I managed to survive Durza and saved the eggs only because our horses sensed that something was wrong. They stopped us from riding into an ambush… and perished because of that."

"Now, now, Arya Drottningu," Lifaen said. "Nothing else could have been done in such a short notice. These horses are well-bred and trained. They will never let you fall unless you do want to throw yourself off on purpose, and they know how to find the safest, quickest path in the most treacherous ground. They are like the dwarves' Feldunost in that way."

"Aye," Orik grunted. "A Feldunost can run you up and down a cliff without a single bruise. But how can we carry our supplies without any saddles? I can't ride while wearing a full pack!"

Lifaen motioned to the eleventh horse and handed a pile of leather bags to Orik. "You will not have to."

Half an hour was devoted to arranging their supplies in the bags. They heaped those in a lumpy mound on the horse's back, and the dragons volunteered to carry everything that would not be immediately needed, such as extra clothing and armor. This time, Lifaen and Nari wisely did not object.

Nari explained the words in the ancient language that must be used to direct the horses, and introduced everyone to their stallions. Nasuada let the horse smell her hand, and stroked its neck. She noticed Solaris draw closer as she mounted. I'm sorry. One more day.

I understand. Solaris bowed her head. I thought of something under the influence of the elves' spell. Something that nibbled at my thoughts even though we, the dragons, had an agreement. Every creature – both pure and monstrous – are free to mate. We cannot. We are not alone, but we might as well be. I know it is to make sure that our children will be safe but…

Nasuada felt her dragon's sadness and loneliness. It was hard to believe that the great dragon was barely more than eight months old. Solaris did not seem like it at all. None of them were. Their hereditary instincts and memories made sure of that. But in this situation, she was more inexperienced. None of the dragons wished to think of the others as more than friends, companions and teammates but in the future, they will be forced to choose mates among the others to save their race.

Pity welled inside Nasuada, but she quickly killed it before Solaris felt it through their link. It wouldn't do any good. It cannot solve their problems or ease the pain. Let's not give up hope. You have a mate in mind already, don't you? A mate that you truly do adore? We just have to wait until we are free from tyranny and our obligations.

Solaris flicked her tail, narrowly missing a sapling. I should know better. Thank you, Nasuada.

Always. Promise me that you won't dwell in this, please.

I won't. Go on, I will see you later. Solaris' gratitude was overwhelming. She nuzzled Nasuada's cheek.

Everyone was reluctant to leave the dragons. They all seemed upset, and it did not feel right to leave them that way. There was nothing to be done, though, so they entered the forest, following Orik and the elves. They headed farther west, to the very heart of Du Weldenvarden.

None of the Riders spoke of what transpired, but they all came to a silent agreement with each other. Galbatorix will pay for driving the dragons to the point of near-extinction.

Having stayed in Du Weldenvarden for a very long time, Eragon began to yearn for the open sky and the fields. He would even settle for a mountain, as long as he would not have to face the endless tree trunks and the underbrush. Even the flights with Saphira did not ease his eyes. They only revealed a prickly green carpet throughout their surroundings.

The thickness of the branches also made it difficult for any of them to point out the general direction that they were heading to. The repetitive scenery also contributed to the feeling of being lost, though one of the elves often made an effort to show him the directions. He knew that he could wander the forest forever without getting out of it.

Rain brought darkness, a green twilight that made them feel claustrophobic. The water would be gathered on the black pine needles above them before pouring onto their heads, like a rush of a small waterfall. With the help of Faolin's green-hued magic, their path was lit up until they could take shelter beneath a cluster of trees. Even after the storm, water gathered in the numerous branches could still spill anytime.

Thicker, taller trees met them as they headed deeper within Du Weldenvarden. The spaces between them increased, providing bigger trails to follow. The trees spanned two hundred feet tall, higher than the trees found within the Spine or the Beors, and were at least seventy feet wide.

"This is amazing," he told Roran.

"Aye. It seems like the trees in this place are as old as Alagaesia itself."

"Quite right, in a way," confirmed Faolin. "It means that we are nearing Ellesmera." He gestured to the expanse of trees around them. "These trees are among the oldest living beings in Alagaesia, standing here long before the first elves set foot in Alagaesia. Our people loved them since they arrived in Du Weldenvarden, and we made an effort to help them keep fluorishing."

Arya smiled. "My friends, we have traveled far and wide together. Now you are about to enter my world – or at least the world I grew up in. The air is heavy with the collective memories of elves, and sometimes nothing is as it seems. We must not fly with out dragons today. We have already triggered certain protective wards, and it will not be wise to stray from the path."

Eragon glanced at Saphira, who was sitting on a bed of moss, amusing the other dragons with the plumes of smoke from her nostrils. She glanced at Eragon boredly. There will be plenty of room for us on the ground right now, so don't worry about us.

Oh, good. I do hope we get to fly soon. Eragon mounted his horse and followed the others farther into the lonely forest. The dragons crawled after them at a leisurely pace. The blue Rider couldn't stop looking around in wonder, feeling like he just stepped into a world that was untouched for thousands of years. It was like time never passed in the embrace of the unending pines.

Sometimes I do not understand your perception of beauty, Saphira sniffed. Am I not more beautiful than the entire forest?

Eragon broke into a smile. I don't know if you are jesting or not, but you are one of the most beautiful things I have laid my eyes upon.

And the other is Arya, no?

Shut up.

By late afternoon, the darkness lifted from the sky, bathing them in an emerald glow. An elf stood before them, covered by an unhindered ray of light from an uncovered patch of sky above. He was dressed in flowing robes, his dark brown hair held back by a circlet of silver. His ageless face held the serene nobility that comes only with numerous years under his belt.

We must show them our palms, announced Arya.

Eragon peeled off the glove from his right hand and raised it. His gedwey ignasia flickered with silvery life. The other Riders also obliged. The elf smiled and closed his eyes. He spread his arms in a welcoming gesture and held the posture.

"The way is clear," Faolin called out.

The group moved forward, riding around the elf. As they all passed, he straightened, clasped his hands and vanished. The brilliant ray of light around him suddenly dissipated, as if it never existed at all.

"Who is he?" Katrina asked.

"He is Gilderien the Wise," Faolin explained. "He's the Prince of House Miolandra, wielder of the White Flame of Vandil and the guardian of Ellesmera since the days of Du Fyrn Skulblaka – the war with the dragons. No one can enter the city without his permission."

"So we're very near?"

"Quite so."

After a quarter of a mile, the forest began to thin. There were breaks within the canopy that allowed sunlight to filter into the forest unhindered. They passed two burled trees which leaned against each other and stopped right at the edge of the empty glade.

Flowers grew in dense patches on the ground. Roses, bluebells and lilies were clumped together on the ground like opaque gems. Their scent wafted to the Riders and attracted an entire horde of bumblebees that made Katrina whimper in discomfort. A stream flowed behind a row of bushes, and squirrels scampered around a rock.

"What do you think is this place?" Eragon mumbled to his brother. "A place where animals stay for the night?"

Murtagh shook his head. "I don't know about that. Look closer."

Eragon stared at the place and began to pick out paths that were concealed among the brush and the trees. Soft light glowed in places that should have been concealed in shadows, and curious patterns in the twigs and patterns were so subtle that they were hard to point out. The place was not entirely natural. With a blink, it felt like someone removed a filter from his vision, and everything resolved into more recognizable patterns. He could still see the paths and flowers, but the clusters of lumpy, twisted trees were actually buildings growing directly out of the pines.

He could barely think of anything but the odd but graceful designs of the buildings, and was amazed that some even had several stories. He stared at the symbols etched on doors and archways, and resolved to ask Faolin or Arya about them sometime. The unique designs of the houses incorporated several trees at times, with different decorations that made them as grand as several manor houses in the Empire.

What amazed Eragon the most was that the buildings both enhanced and complemented the surrounding forest. They could all blend in and disguise themselves within the heart of Du Weldenvarden, and it is difficult to tell which is a house and which is simply a cluster of trees unless one cared to look closely, or knew what should be there. The elves have learned to adapt to their environment instead of getting rid of it.

With a flicker of movement in Eragon's peripheral vision, the inhabitants of Ellesmera began to reveal themselves to the group. The signs were slight, as if a gentle breeze coaxed the grass to stir lightly. Slowly, the elves began to step into view, wearily fixing their almond eyes upon the dragons and their Riders.

Elven women wore unbound hair, rippling down their backs in waves of silver, gold, black, brown and even red in a couple of them, braided with fresh flowers and leaves. They were beautiful, graceful and definitely strong. They seemed flawless and deadly. The men were striking too, with their regal features and a quiet aura of noble power. They all wore tunics the color of the forest, fringed with colors of autumn.

The Fair Folk indeed, Eragon told Saphira.

And now we must greet them, Arya announced, breaking through her friends' thoughts.

As one, the Riders moved once more, the way they always did when acting as a team. They touched their lips in greeting. The wary expression of the elves transformed into one of happiness, and they all bowed from the waist as one. They smiled and laughed in true, unrestrained happiness, and a woman began to sing.

"It is not magic," Faolin said with a smile. He jumped off his stallion. "Ganga." The horse nickered before trotting away to a patch of grass. "The steeds must be released. They will not be needed anymore, and they deserve to rest in our stables."

That being done, the song gained in strength as Faolin led them down a cobblestone path that was set with chunks of green gems. It looped among the trees, brushes and houses before it crossed a stream. Elves danced in glee around them, singing and flitting about. They laughed and sang as they leaped onto branches and ran over their heads. They praised the dragons with various names that definitely pleased them.

I could live here, Murtagh said, emanating a sense of peace and security.

Aye, I might take up that offer too, Eragon replied with a grin. Tucked away in the very heart of Du Weldenvarden, he felt safe from the world. He liked Ellesmera more than any dwarf city, though he longed for the open ground and the quiet mountains.

"So how are those tree-dwellings made?" Nasuada asked.

"Well, elves usually sing to the forest in the ancient language with their strength to let it grow and shape it to their whims," Arya explained, glowing with pride as she shared the information. "All the buildings and tools in this place are made that way, but of course I haven't tried it yet. Many intricate spells are not taught to us until we reach the age of twenty. Dragon eggs cannot even be touched until that age."

They reached a net of roots that formed steps leading to a door embedded in a wall of saplings. Eragon felt excited. He knew that something big was about to happen. They entered a massive hall of trees, hundreds upon hundreds of branches melded together to form a honeycombed ceiling. Below were twelve chairs lined up along each wall.

Twenty four elf lords and ladies sat, watching the small group. Their faces were unmarked by age, but their gleaming eyes belied their true age. They leaned forward, strong hands gripping the arms of their chairs. Hope and wonder crossed their faces as they peered at the six dragons. The circlets upon their brows gleamed silver, and the gems on their swords – which were the only weapons that could be seen since arriving in Ellesmera – glowed in different colors.

At the very head of the hall was a white pavilion that housed a throne made of knotted roots. A woman who could only be Queen Islanzadi sat upon it, watching them impassively. While Arya was as beautiful as a spring morning, vibrant and youthful, Islanzadi was as beautiful as an autumn sunset, proud and imperious. Her slender eyebrows, red lips and dark hair bound by a diamond diadem looked achingly familiar, though. She wore a tunic of red, and a girdle of braided gold encircled her hips. She wore a velved cloak that fell lazily to the ground. Though she was quite intimidating, the lovely queen seemed like she held in a great pain within her.

A white raven sat on a rod by the queen's left hand, shuffling impatiently and ruffling its oddly hued feathers. It eyed the Riders whit a strange display of intelligence and croaked. "Wyrda!" it shrieked.

What was that all about? Eragon asked Arya.

Later, the young elf replied.

The elves knelt on the moss-covered ground and bowed first, followed by Orik and the Riders. Even the dragons, who never bowed even to Ajihad and Hrothgar, lowered their massive heads. Islanzadi stood up and descended from the throne with her cloak trailing luxuriously behind her. She stopped before Faolin and Arya, putting a trembling hand on their heads. "Rise," she said in a rich, deep voice. The two did, and the queen eyed them before throwing her arms around the two. "Oh, my children, I have wronged you!"

Eragon blinked and locked eyes with Saphira. Children?

Remember, Islanzadi sent Faolin as an ambassador 20 years ago, which makes him 25 back then, and Arya is only 15 when she was sent away to accompany him at the beginning of the story. I think she has no idea how to care for them without Evandar, which is also why Arya resents her and Faolin is not comfortable with her around.

Anyway, I sincerely thank you for your opinions on the previous chapter, I think the Riders are shaping up to have their own specializations. I also think Eragon will inherit Brom's strengths, while Murtagh will inherit Selena's. For the others... it will be a surprise. YOU GUYS ARE ALL THE BEST. I SWEAR.

Hope to hear from you guys soon, and reviews/comments/suggestions are still appreciated! :3