12. Swim
Though gentle, Eragon's rebuke pierced Arya to the core. He was right, of course. His self-control did not need to be tried, nor had it ever. He was a model of self-restraint, and her unnecessary testing of it had indeed been cruel, as he had said. She had just personally experienced the burning longing and now understood that though his passion for her was pure and tender—as evident in his desire to marry her before fully expressing it—it was nonetheless still very powerful. This realization filled Arya with deep remorse for the difficulty she had caused Eragon.
Arya followed him into the water, savoring the perfect temperature as she slid all the way under so the refreshing sensation would clear her mind. Then she surfaced and swam gracefully to his side. "Eragon, I cry your pardon. Please forgive me for my misguided actions. I never should have inflicted that on you when I knew of your own feelings and longing."
"Thank you for your apology, Arya," Eragon immediately accepted. "I forgive you, of course. I'm glad I withstood the test, but I was so close to submitting. Would it really make a difference if we consummated our love now versus a few days from now when we are married? I don't know. Most likely not. I am committed to you forever, but I feel sure this is the right course of action and would hate to do something, no matter how wonderful it would feel, that I would later regret because I had ignored my conscience. I want that precious union to carry no regrets, only joy, as it should."
"I don't deserve you," Arya said. "You have grown so much during our separation and are intelligent and powerful even while you are modest and generous. Thank you for your forgiveness."
Eragon grinned teasingly. "You have developed such a high opinion of me then, upstart young hatchling that I am? Well, I'll never again doubt the impossible."
Arya playfully pushed at him, loving how he joked with her, so easily permitting her to leave her anxiety over her behavior in the past.
"So how are you at swimming?" Eragon casually asked. "Perhaps it would help us diffuse the tensions of today."
"Not bad," Arya responded, equally casual. This was one activity they had never engaged in together, and she didn't want to let on of her skill.
"Perhaps a race is in order," Eragon suggested, eyeing her hopefully. "Are you up for the challenge?"
"I would welcome it," Arya answered. "First one to the opposite shore wins?"
"Very well," Eragon agreed. "Ready?" Arya nodded. "Go!" he cried, propelling himself forward.
Arya dove forward and began stroking. She had always loved swimming and had much opportunity to practice in her youth, though not as often recently. But she soon found it was a skill that did not weaken with disuse. She slid through the water like a fish, her thin, lithe form giving her an advantage over Eragon, though he still put his bulky muscles to good use. She easily remained by his side without exerting her full ability, thinking it wise to give him a false sense of security and also to conserve her energy for the final stretch of the race. The far shore was still some ways off.
Arya loved the warmth coursing through her body as her heart steadily pounded. Besides their short run that morning—when her diminished stamina had dismayed her—this was the first time she had seriously engaged in strenuous exercise for many years. When she had always felt cold, swimming would have been out of the question. But as she weightlessly glided through the water, Arya found that the exertion rejuvenated her, leaving her not only wanting more but with the energy to do it. She let the strength of that invigoration surge through her muscles and pulled ahead without intending to.
Arya caught a glimpse of Eragon's face as he turned it to breathe. He appeared to be giving his best effort, but she knew he might still be holding back, so she didn't pull too far ahead.
They swam on, and the burning in her muscles continued to have the paradoxical effect of invigorating Arya rather than tiring her. She could now see that the far shore was closer than the one they had started at, and she thought Eragon was lagging. Knowing she didn't have much more time to swim to her fullest ability, she pushed away any thought of holding back and threw herself into the motions with all of her strength.
Arya quickly left Eragon behind, reaching the shore within seconds. Several long moments passed before Eragon joined her. He crawled out of the water, breathing deeply, and sat facing her. She was on her feet, pacing back and forth and full of a rushing energy that forbade her from being still.
"What was that at the end?" Eragon asked at length, once he had quieted his breathing. "Are you part fish?"
Arya laughed delightedly. "That was wonderful and not just because I beat you. It was so strange, but rather than tiring at the burn in my muscles, I gained strength from it. The exertion energized me as nothing has in a long time. Can we do it again?"
"I'm afraid I'm not up for it," Eragon apologized. "My pride is feeling slightly wounded and my muscles not capable of another race at the moment. I was swimming my best the whole time. You were holding back, weren't you?"
"Yes," Arya confirmed. "The whole time I stayed by you, I was holding back. I only let loose at the end to see what it would feel like before I ran out of room."
"That makes it even worse, I suppose," Eragon said with a rueful laugh. "You might have arrived here ten minutes before me had you swam at your fullest from the start. You have bested me in swimming, my love. Does that make you feel better after this morning?"
"Maybe marginally," Arya admitted. "Though I'm coming to see the wisdom of your views that we must not constantly seek to be in competition, one superior and the other inferior. If ever there was a relay race with running and swimming, we would make an undefeatable team."
Eragon laughed again. "True. Now come sit by me." He had been studiously training his eyes away from her toward the lake, though her constant movement demanded his attention.
Arya paused. "Do you mind if I return to the water?"
"Not at all," he assured her. "But you had better do it soon or all this cooling of my passion will have been for nothing. You might as well be naked for how your clothes are clinging to you right now."
Arya self-consciously clapped her arms over her chest, and Eragon grinned roguishly. "No wonder you have been looking away!" she cried, embarrassed and blushing.
"I'm not saying I don't enjoy it, Arya. You're the most beautiful creature I have ever beheld, and I'm sure your true magnificence is only apparent without the disguise of clothing." Her blush deepened, and Eragon laughed. She shivered at the effect it had on her, knowing the prickling in her flesh would only make certain curves more noticeable under her shirt. "And I like to see you blush," he added.
"Well, you have a knack for making me," Arya complained. "I'll be off to end your discomfort, good sir. Do not stay away for too long." Then she ran toward the lake, springing off her last step to launch into an arching dive that took her beyond the shore.
-:-:-
Eragon admired her grace as she swam away. He guessed it had taken maybe fifteen minutes for them to cross the lake, but on her second trip, Arya swam to the opposite shore and back to him in less than that time, positively flying through the water. Eragon shook his head in amazement.
Once Arya reached him again, she stayed in the water and called, "Eragon, please come join me!"
Eragon sprang up, charged toward Arya—intentionally being clumsy—and fell down beside her to shower her with his splash. When he surfaced, Arya was laughing, and she pushed a small wave of water at his face. He pounced, pulling her under for a moment, but she thrashed away and came up still laughing. Then she jumped on his back, tightening her arms and legs around him so he wouldn't be able to reach her as easily.
They spent the next couple of hours thus, playing in the water and constantly trying to outmaneuver the other, splashing and laughing all the while. They ended up at the shore where the saddles were. In one final attempt to outdo her, Eragon grabbed Arya around the waist and prepared to launch her high over the water. But she quickly locked herself around him, and he instead fell under with her.
When they came back up, they were both laughing. Arya was still clinging to his body, her head next to his, and the moment turned intimate in their sudden stillness. She quickly loosened her grip, sliding into the water beside him as she planted a quick kiss on his cheek. Then she stepped away, took his hand, and covered her chest with her other arm.
"Let's come back here when we're married," she suggested.
"Yes, let's," Eragon agreed. They walked to the shore, simultaneously murmuring a spell that would extract most of the water from their dripping clothes and hair. Then Arya quickly slipped her coat over her damp shirt, and Eragon smiled gratefully.
It was night then, the sky above them dark, countless stars sparkling in the heavens. Eragon started a fire with magic to help them fully dry. "Are you hungry again?" he asked.
"Not really," Arya replied. "I've never had that much fun. I never allowed myself. I always felt I must be stern and responsible in fulfilling my duties. Are you hungry?"
"Aye. Always, it seems," Eragon said. "May I get something from your saddlebags?"
"Of course," Arya said.
While he was up, Eragon also grabbed something from his own saddlebags before returning to the fire. He set the food down and shook out a shirt.
"I suppose now that I don't feel insufferably hot—thanks to you being here—I might as well clothe myself accordingly." He began to pull the shirt on over his head.
"No, don't," Arya quickly said. She blushed and immediately added, "I mean you can, of course, if you wish. You just don't need to for my sake." She stared at the fire, but Eragon slowly lowered his shirt and maintained his questioning gaze until she looked back up.
"That's interesting," he remarked, working to keep his face straight. "Why do you not want me to wear my shirt, Arya?" He was goading her into more blushing, and it worked.
In spite of the deepening color in her cheeks, Arya kept her chin up and her eyes on his as she firmly said, "Because I like looking at you, Eragon. Your body is pleasing to me. You're a magnificent specimen of manliness. And I like snuggling against your chest. It's so strong, and the hair is soft and warm." She stopped then, and Eragon guessed she could say no more, for the blush in her cheeks at her confession appeared almost painful.
Eragon couldn't keep a skeptical laugh from escaping his mouth. "Come now, Arya. You're teasing me."
Arya cleared her throat. "Can you not tell from my blush that I am being honest, though I'm embarrassed to admit it? Why can you think me beautiful but I not return the sentiment? You're the handsomest man I have ever known in my over one hundred year lifetime, so different from any elf and yet also not fully human."
"Is that so?" Eragon's modesty still made it difficult for him to accept her sincerity. "It hardly seems fair that you get to request to see me half-naked all the time since you find my body pleasing, yet I must wait for the same pleasure."
"A request is all it was," Arya countered, apparently trying to recover from her awkwardness. "You are more than welcome to don your shirt. I might remind you that waiting until we marry was your decision, lest you forget, though I fully support you. Shall I also remove my shirt then, so we are equal?" she quipped, opening her coat threateningly.
Eragon laughed and stopped her hands. "No! Please don't. I'll continue to let it be the subject of only my fantasies until we are husband and wife."
Arya then said, "But that does remind me that I'd like to change from this damp shirt. It has become quite cold. Will you give me some privacy so that I may?"
"Certainly." Eragon silently arose and strolled off into the darkness, calling back as he went, "Let me know when you're finished. I'll hear."
Arya did but a few moments later. Eragon rejoined her, sitting near her by the fire. He had something small in his hands and was working it between his fingers, but he shielded it from her.
When he silently began using magic, Arya curiously asked, "What are you doing?"
Eragon looked up at her and mysteriously said, "It's a surprise. You'll see soon enough." He then resumed the conversation where they left off before she changed with, "Now tell me. When did you come to think I was the handsomest man you have ever known?" He wanted her to blush again.
Arya sighed as the anticipated reaction blossomed on her cheeks. "I'm not sure," she said. "Maybe once you returned from Farthen Dûr after Orik was chosen as king. Before then you still seemed so boyish that I couldn't ignore how young you were. But after that trip your face seemed more mature and your body broader, more muscular, and more adult-like.
"It rankled me how you left without even saying goodbye. And it bothered me that it bothered me. I wondered why that would be until I saw you once again. When you came to my rescue on the city wall in Feinster, I was glad to see you. I had missed you and thought you would have at least said goodbye or told me you were leaving. And I was furious when I discovered there had been an attempt on your life at Farthen Dûr."
All of this was completely new to Eragon. He didn't seek more for his personal gratification but simply because he was curious. "Were you starting to have feelings for me?" he disbelievingly asked.
"I do believe so," Arya confessed. "Though I never would have revealed them to you, since our situation was so critical with the Varden marching toward Urû'baen. Surely you noticed that I sought you out more?"
"Aye, although for what reason I couldn't tell. I appreciated that you always wished to be by my side in a battle and that you would practice swordplay with me, but I thought it must surely be only to protect me so I could fulfill my duty."
"I did want to protect you," Arya agreed. "Not only out of a sense of duty but also out of a sense of caring. I had once told you I enjoyed your company and considered you a friend, but I think I started to realize I would be heartbroken if you were injured or killed and I could have done something to stop it. And it seems good too. We always did fight well together and more than once, you rescued me from situations I couldn't escape myself."
Eragon smiled. "For some reason that makes me happier than I can explain."
"If my mother hadn't been killed," Arya went on, "I believe I would have retained my position as ambassador and stayed in Ilirea to fulfill my duties but also to attempt to pursue a relationship with you. Although my mother would have undoubtedly complicated things."
"You wouldn't have had to try very hard," Eragon said. "I was already yours. You were the more stubborn part of the equation."
"True," Arya allowed. "But my mother's death changed everything and so did having Fírnen hatch for me. It was a very confusing time as I tried to reconcile my wishes with my overarching sense of duty. Duty won in the short run, but my heart won in the end."
"For which I couldn't be more grateful," Eragon said, scooting over to put his arm around her after slipping his project into his pocket. The fire was burning low. "Let us rest now," he suggested. "This has been a tiring day."
They lay on their sides facing each other with some space between their bodies. Eragon rested his head on his bent arm, and Arya lay her head on his elbow. Their faces were almost touching, and Arya raised her hand to once again feel his unshaven cheek.
Eragon smiled. "You really are fascinated by it, aren't you?"
"How long would it grow if you never removed it?" Arya asked.
"I'm not sure. Remember Brom's beard? Maybe that long, since he was my father. Shall I grow a beard for you, Arya? It would feel softer in time, like my chest."
Arya moved her hand to his chest, combing her fingers through the hair.
"That feels so nice, but I need you to stop," Eragon gently requested. "It's too much." Arya immediately stopped, guiltily glancing at him as she withdrew her hand. She also moved her head onto her own arm, mirroring Eragon's posture and increasing the space between their faces.
"I'm sorry, Eragon. This part of you that so clearly makes you human is one of the things I find so attractive. It makes you rugged, yet soft and warm. Elves have no hair on their bodies except for what grows on their head, eyebrows, and eyelashes."
"I remember when I first noticed that during my training with Oromis. It was very foreign to me."
"Do human women grow hair as do the men?" Arya inquired.
"No, not as extensively. Some on their arms and legs, in their underarms, and in the groin area, I would imagine, but not on the chest, abdomen, or face. And it is also usually finer and lighter."
"So you have experienced that then?" Arya archly asked. From her tone of voice, Eragon guessed that she was thinking of his question that morning and was amazed she even remembered given the state of her emotions.
"No, Arya," he replied, understanding her meaning. "I was so young when I met you, and you immediately won me. It seems unnecessary to have to say it, but I too am a virgin. I only know about body hair from growing up with humans and observing during times such as swimming. Some men are much hairier than I, more closely resembling bears, with thick hair covering their backs, their entire arms, everywhere. I'm not sure I'd like that."
"Hmm, I'm not sure I would either," Arya said. "I think you're perfect. And to answer your question a moment ago, I don't think I want you to grow a beard but I don't know. Perhaps I'll have a better idea of what it would look like in a few days' time."
After a brief pause, she suddenly asked, "Did you not see me naked when you were healing the wounds of my torture after rescuing me at Gil'ead?"
Eragon hated thinking about the angry red welts on her delicate skin. "No, not fully. Only your back, shoulders, and some of your upper chest. I diligently sought to maintain your modesty."
"Once a gentleman, always a gentleman," Arya murmured.
"Come Arya, you may rest against me," Eragon offered. "You have told me you find it comforting." He turned on his back, stuffing his shirt under his head and extending his arm out to draw her over to him. She rested her cheek near his heart and her hand on his chest. Thus entwined in one another's arms, they peacefully drifted off to sleep.