5. Morning

Arya awakened before Eragon the following morning. The first thing she noted was that Saphira and Fírnen had returned. Their heads were side by side, their tails intertwined, and each dragon curled behind their Rider, forming a protective circle in their sleep.

Then Arya noticed how she and Eragon had ended up after the hours of shifting during their rest. They were in the position he had first suggested the evening before. Eragon was lying on his back, and Arya was snuggled next to him with her head on his shoulder and her arm across his body. Eragon had kept his promise in the last words he had thought to her, I will keep you safe and warm, for his arms were clasped around her back, providing a steady source of warmth and comfort.

Arya experienced a moment of embarrassment when she became aware of the location of her leg, which she had drawn up toward herself as she liked to do in sleep. But given the presence of Eragon in this equation, it had ended up in rather uncomfortable proximity to the sensitive area where his legs met. Arya debated whether she should move it and risk waking him or remain still and hope he wouldn't notice. She opted for the latter, settling into his arms as she mused over the experiences of the previous day.

Her thoughts ended up on the final moments before sleep had taken them when Eragon had imagined the intimate physical union they would create once married. From everything Arya had observed about it over the course of her long life, it was a very powerful experience. Strong enough to bind the wandering, adventurous hearts of men to a wife and home and family, at least among dwarves and humans.

While obviously familiar with the less committed customs of her people, Arya wasn't surprised that Eragon wanted to marry before engaging in this expression. Two elves might come together and share that union only for a day if they so chose, but Arya thought she understood Eragon's reasoning that such a powerful emotional connection should be based upon some foundation of commitment. She knew Eragon simply wanted to honor her according to the human customs he had grown up with. Of course, many elven couples remained together for much longer than a human lifetime, but Arya saw no harm in a ceremony involving the exchange of vows if it was important to Eragon.

In spite of her attempt to remain still so as not to awaken Eragon, Arya eventually found that she had to move, for her neck ached painfully. She carefully shifted, raising her chin to find a different impression on Eragon's chest. She also wanted to see his face.

As she studied it, Arya noticed a faint shadow on the lower half of Eragon's cheeks, chin, jaw, and upper neck. Aside from a vague memory that he might have had sparse, wispy whiskers during their first journey to Ellesméra, she had never seen him with facial hair before. Arya was so fascinated and curious about what Eragon's stubble felt like that she lifted her hand, placing it on his cheek and gently stroking. The hair felt rough and prickly, but Arya liked it because of the way it made him different from an elf.

Eragon stirred then, and Arya removed her hand, but he caught it and returned it to his face. "This isn't a dream is it?" he asked, peering at her through one, half-opened eye. "Because I'm going back to sleep if it is."

"No, I'm real," Arya replied with a smile. She shifted her position, propping herself up on her elbow and furtively sliding her leg down. She hoped Eragon hadn't noticed.

But he had. "An interesting placement of your leg," Eragon murmured, a sly grin playing at the corners of his mouth. He moved one of his arms under his head so he could see her better.

Arya blushed. "I like to sleep like that," she defended, "but with you there . . . . Well, I've never had to think about it before."

"I like seeing you blush," Eragon said, grinning more widely.

Arya cleared her throat to regain her composure, and Eragon laughed. The pleasant sound coaxed a small smile onto her face, which had begun to crease into a scowl in response to her awkwardness.

"So what do you think of my stubble?" Eragon asked, stroking her hand, which he still held at his cheek.

"I like it," Arya responded. "But save for our very first journey to Ellesméra, I don't remember you ever having facial hair, and we often travelled or fought together." Though Arya clearly knew that human and dwarven men grew facial hair, having been around men and dwarves with impressive beards the better part of her life, Eragon looked enough like an elf that Arya must have taken for granted that his face was smooth.

Eragon explained, "When I began my training with Oromis, my facial hair had just begun to be noticeable, but it was too sparse for me to grow a beard. He informed me that until such time as I was capable of growing a beard, I was to shave it each morning and bathe to clean myself. I'm sure you do remember my odor during our travels," he remarked with a rueful grimace. Arya only smiled.

"Anyway," Eragon continued, "Oromis provided me with some shaving instruments to accomplish the task, but I cut myself badly on my first attempt, much to Saphira's concern. After healing the wound, I thought of a spell that would remove the whiskers and have used it ever since. It's more of a habit than anything now. It takes such little time and causes no unpleasant irritation, so I just keep doing it every morning. Would you like me to now?"

"No, I really do like it. You look handsome. Not that you don't look handsome with a smooth face because you do. It's just different . . . and feels manly and . . ." Arya trailed off awkwardly, blushing even deeper.

Eragon laughed loudly this time, kissing her cheek as he sat up. "Very well. I'll keep it for you, my love. I have rarely seen you embarrassed before, and it feels like we've reversed roles. I seem to remember that I was always the one stumbling over words and blushing at my clumsiness."

Arya shrugged. "I'm new to being in love. I should be allowed a few graceless moments."

"You have my permission to be as awkward as you wish as often as you like," Eragon said with mock solemnity. "And how do you feel this morning?"

Arya thought for a moment. "Wonderful. I haven't slept that well since . . . well, ever. I was warm for the first time in ten years but aside from that, I've never been as relaxed or peaceful. But I am hungry. And thirsty."

"Aye," Eragon agreed. "And I need to relieve myself."

Arya raised her eyebrows, aghast, and the blush that hadn't fully left her cheeks the moment before deepened to its darkest hue yet.

Eragon challenged her with a roguish grin. "Don't you too?"

Arya coughed. "Yes, if you must know, but at least I had the decency not to mention it in front of you!"

Eragon's body shook with the effort of containing his mirth. "Elves and their overdeveloped sense of propriety," he said with an amused shake of his head. "It's not as if I was asking you to do it in front of me. Arya, we mean to marry. Why pretend away the baser urges of existence?"

"I'm not pretending them away," Arya retorted. "It's just unnecessary to discuss it! Never mind." She ended with a huff, pushing him with both hands.

Eragon laughed loudly, catching her hands and lifting her to her feet as he rose. "I'm only teasing, Arya. I'm sorry I made you uncomfortable." He briefly hugged her and suggested, "How about you go behind Fírnen and I go behind Saphira? We'll both have our privacy, and their snoring will muffle any sounds . . ."

He laughed again as she rolled her eyes, continuing to look appalled. "Now I have the honor of getting to know this side of you," Eragon observed. "I was hoping you might soon roll your eyes at me."

Arya said nothing as she spun on her heel and marched away from him toward Fírnen, but she wasn't as offended as she let on. Eragon had surprised her, but Arya enjoyed his openness. He seemed comfortable around her, unconcerned about the stuffiness of elven decorum. And she had never seen him so happy, laughing every few seconds, teasing and enjoying her.

After attending to the business Eragon jokingly referenced, Arya retrieved refreshment from her saddlebags and returned to the circle between the dragons, where Eragon awaited her. She sat in front of him, setting the food and drink down between them and choosing some fruit for herself.

Eragon reached for the water and drank deeply before asking, "What shall we do today?" Then he began eating some bread.

"Won't someone be missing you?"

"They won't worry too much. I know the island better than anyone, and there's nothing that could hurt me. If they really want to, someone will come searching for or scry me. But none of my responsibilities are so important that the others can't fulfill them while I spend a few days with you. Murtagh, Varhog, and Knilf know as much as I about being a Dragon Rider."

"Having no duties to worry about feels so different," Arya mused. "I think I like it. I feel so free."

"I was very surprised yesterday when you said you are no longer the queen," Eragon confessed. "Are the elves expecting you back anytime soon?" He tried to appear indifferent, but Arya knew he was worried about her answer by the way he studied her.

"No," she replied. "I named Lord Däthedr my successor, and the Council unanimously approved. They were worried about my health. I told them I wanted to come be with the dragons and Riders, that Fírnen was lonely living in isolation from the rest of his race. Which is true, I just didn't say anything about you. As far as they're concerned, I won't ever be returning. Ellesméra was duller and quieter than ever with the threat of Galbatorix removed. I fear I was shortsighted when I agreed to be queen. I must have thought I'd be content to sit idly upon the throne and never do anything exciting again."

The tension in Eragon's body disappeared during her explanation like a weight lifting from his shoulders. "I'm glad to hear that," he said, and Arya knew it was an understatement. They ate in silence for a few moments, and when they were finished, he repeated his question. "What shall we do?"

"How about you show me some of the island. Is it large? How far are we from the city?"

"The island is large. I'd guess it would take us a little over a fortnight to walk to the stronghold from our current location. It's on the eastern end of the Isle as far from here as possible. If we ran it might take just under a week. It only takes a few hours to fly here from the city, though the term city is misleading. There are only around three dozen inhabitants on the Isle, at least of the two-legged species. There are more dragons, but most of the wild dragons have made their homes on neighboring islands."

Eragon glanced at her apologetically. "Beyond those peaks is a valley with a lake. Lake Arya. I was at liberty to name it whatever I wanted. It was my only respite from the strains of my responsibilities, which were made so much more burdensome by the excessive heat I always felt. Since the lake is the most beautiful place here, it reminded me of you, so the name seemed fitting."

Arya smiled. "I'm honored. Would you show it to me?"

Eragon returned her smile. "Of course. That would be convenient because I left my things there yesterday when Saphira asked me to fly with her somewhere." He shuddered. "What I was going through at the time was unbearable. I'd just had the realization that the burning heat I always felt was a result of your action when we parted ways. I wanted to tell you that I loved you because I thought I'd never again have the chance. And when you stopped me, I interpreted it to mean that I had to keep my feelings for you forever buried inside of me. It's still hard for me to grasp how dramatically things have changed in less than a day."

Arya shook her head, also remembering what she had felt of Eragon's misery through Saphira's mind. She took his hand. "I'm sorry for what you were going through and that I was the cause. Saphira made me feel it and threatened not to let me see you if I intended to make it worse." She frowned remorsefully.

"The cause was the cure," Eragon replied, lifting her hand to kiss it. "I'm only glad you came when you did, that you came at all. I never thought it would happen, and I'm not sure I would have endured much longer. But Saphira would have never been able to keep me from you. Once I found out you were here, I would have crippled her with Brisingr before letting her stand in my path to reach you, no matter what your intentions were."

"Indeed? Harmed your dragon? That's serious, Eragon," Arya chided. "At least I finally acknowledged what I needed to do. I struggled to overcome my sense of obligation to the elves, but Fírnen helped me realize that my more important duty was to myself—my health and my feelings—which I have always ignored. He also longed to be here with the dragons where he would enjoy greater freedom. Good thing we had them to look out for us while we were apart." Eragon nodded. "So how do we get to the lake?"

"I suppose we could ask our dragons to take us, but if you don't object, I think I'd prefer to run," Eragon said. "Now that I don't feel such an insufferable burning in my blood, I want to run. It has been some time since I have."

"I understand exactly what you mean," Arya agreed. "But I couldn't run because the press of the wind on my body made me so cold that I always had to stop. No amount of exertion ever lessened it." She shivered as she remembered, glad the consuming chill was already becoming a distant memory. "Let me pack these things in my saddlebags and ask Fírnen to carry them there for me."

Eragon helped her put the remaining food, her cloak, and her sword in the saddlebags. She grabbed a brush for cleaning her mouth and quickly did so. Eragon watched her as she did, and Arya noticed his scrutiny. "Do you want to use it?" she asked when she had finished her task.

"If the idea of me using yours makes you uncomfortable, I have my own," Eragon answered. "But it's back by the lake."

"Oddly enough, the thought doesn't make me uncomfortable," Arya admitted, handing the toothbrush to Eragon. "I wonder what that means."

"Surely only that you like the idea of putting this back in your mouth after it has been in mine," he quipped. "If the way you kissed me yesterday is anything to judge by."

Arya blushed. "I'm sure you'll continue believing whatever you want no matter what I say. That seems as likely an explanation as any."

Eragon chuckled, quickly performing his job with the brush and handing it back to Arya. As she put it away with the rest of her things, Eragon asked, "When did you get here?"

"Just minutes before you and Saphira flew over the mountains. I barely had time to hastily unstrap Fírnen's saddle. I thought he would prefer to have it off if he and Saphira wished for a reunion of their own."

And you were right, little one, Fírnen's voice boomed into their minds at that moment.

Eragon winced before he could stop himself then laughed at his reaction. Your deep voice never ceases to impress me.

Fírnen rumbled in amusement, and Saphira proudly thought, Yes it is rather demanding, is it not? She nuzzled Fírnen with her snout. If only you little ones would be as unfettered by customs and traditions as we dragons, you would already be mated and done with it!

Arya flushed, but she could feel Saphira's fierce joy at the way things had progressed and her unwavering approval of Eragon's decision. You both seem intent on making me as uncomfortable as possible, Arya observed in exasperation.

Eragon grinned as Fírnen made things worse by saying, But yesterday you yourself were prepared to take the very step Saphira just alluded to, little one. Why be embarrassed about it now?

I suppose the moment has passed, Arya heatedly thought. Or maybe it's because you're here. I still want to do that, just not right now. . . . Oh, never mind.

Saphira carefully extended her snout toward Arya and gently rested it atop her head. I am sorry, little one. Words are incapable of expressing my relief and joy that you are here. There was nothing I could do to help Eragon, and his suffering has long weighed on my heart.

Fírnen's consciousness echoed his agreement. Perhaps the union of our two Riders will be the precedent for the lifelong union of two dragons, thus far unheard of in history, he thought as he regarded Saphira.

Do not be so certain, hatchling, Saphira teased. I am still two years your senior and might yet change my mind.

Eragon and Arya laughed. They knew Saphira was also teasing them, particularly Arya, who had always objected to Eragon's much younger age.

Without you, Saphira, and your constant comfort and reasoning, I'm sure I would have gone mad long ago, Eragon insisted. Don't think you did nothing to help me. Arya nodded her agreement, as Fírnen had done, for her sentiments were exactly the same.

Little one, Saphira tenderly thought. Now we will be off and leave the two of you alone together. I will show Fírnen where to leave your things, Arya.

Thank you, Saphira.

Saphira hummed her approval of the whole situation, and Fírnen echoed with a rumble that caused the earth to tremble. Then he closed his front claws around the saddle and sprang high into the air. To avoid battering Arya and Eragon, he waited until he reached the peak of his jump before unfurling his wings and flapping toward the peaks.

Arya sensed that he was also trying to show off for Saphira, and Saphira watched admiringly before copying his take off and flying to his side. Eragon wrapped Arya in his arms to shield her from the wind, and she leaned against him, content to remain that way.

Though Arya guessed that Eragon was loath to break the contact, his impatient desire to be moving was clear when he reached for Arya's hand and glanced at her. "Can we run?"

"Yes! Lead the way!" And they were off.