34. Understatement
A while later, Eragon felt relaxed and satisfied as Arya snuggled next to him. How could such a pure expression of love—the very thing that had led to the creation of their child's life—lead to misery and heartache? He didn't see how it could. All seemed right with the world again, and Eragon decided to trust Arya that everything would work out in the end, just as she had trusted him in a similar moment of hopelessness.
"I'm so glad I was mistaken in thinking we wouldn't be able to do that for nine months," Eragon remarked.
"Indeed," Arya agreed. "And though I had nothing to compare it to before and would never change our honeymoon for anything, that was more comfortable on a bed."
Eragon laughed as she drew her leg on top of him and began running her fingers through his chest hair, using her fingernails to create swirling patterns.
Eragon approvingly murmured, "That feels really good. I'm glad I don't have to ask you to stop anymore." He traced similar patterns along her thigh where it was resting across his body.
"That feels really good," Arya echoed with a smile, turning her face to kiss his shoulder. She changed the movements of her fingers to trace all the lines of muscle on his torso. "I love your body," she added as her fingers reached his abdomen where the hair was sparser. "Though I know it sounds foolish to say."
"It's still hard for me to get used to that, no matter how many times you have told me in word or deed," Eragon replied. "I have never thought of myself as appealing to a female."
"I suppose I'm glad of it. I wouldn't like you so well if you were vain and arrogant."
Eragon smiled. "It's strange being together like this, just lying in one another's arms without a care in the world. Only a month ago I was a stern, humorless Dragon Rider trainer and you were queen of the elves."
"Yes, all responsibility and no fun," Arya said. "Now it is just the opposite. I think I prefer this way, though perhaps we have let the pendulum swing too far. I would welcome the chance to see what life on the Isle is like for a Rider, though as your wife, it will hardly be the same experience for me as for another Rider arriving here for training. But I think I can live with the differences." She smiled again and lifted her head, resting her chin on her hand so she could see him.
Eragon stuffed another pillow under his head so he could also see her better. Arya raised her free hand to his face and took up the lazy exploration again, only this time on his cheek and jaw where he had over a week's growth of facial hair.
"This is becoming quite the beard," she observed.
"I never thought about it, and you didn't ask me to remove it, so it just grew," Eragon said. "What do you think of it now that it has passed the prickly phase?"
"I rather like it like this. It's such a nice color—darker than your hair—and grows in such an even pattern. It also tickles when you kiss me in certain places." She laughed lightly as Eragon chuckled. "But I'm not sure I would like it as a full-length beard. Can you keep it trimmed so it hugs your jaw?"
"I'm sure I could come up with something. A modification of my current spell, similar to what I use to trim my hair," Eragon answered, jutting his chin out and rubbing it against her cheek. "If you ever wish for me to remove it, you have but to ask. It only takes a moment, though you wouldn't want to be near, especially with it this length. The hair would fall all over you and be far from ticklish, I'm afraid. I once removed it after I had already dressed, and the hair was terribly itchy. I finally just had to change." He laughed sheepishly at the memory, and so did Arya.
"I don't remember you being so playful and lighthearted in all the time we spent together in Alagaёsia," she commented.
"No, I certainly wasn't," Eragon agreed. "I always felt overwhelmed by the magnitude of the expectations upon me and of my burden to face Galbatorix, at which I felt sure I would fail. Not to mention all of the rulers of races I held obligations to. But with you my restraints were of a different nature. I felt that I must always be careful not to say too much or let on how I felt, since I was sure to offend you and receive a rebuke at the same time."
"I am sorry about that, Eragon," Arya apologized. "I was thinking about how difficult that must have been for you when Willow was helping me with my hair. She noticed my ring, so I told her about that night you created my lily and the spirits transformed it. She thought it was so romantic, and I'm ashamed to admit that it was the first time I realized just how romantic it was. Although that night also marked one of the few times I remember you laughing long and loud, when you thought of the expression 'gilded the lily'."
"It must have been much-needed comic relief. The memories of death and bloodshed constantly haunted me during those long months. That was a special night in more ways than one."
"I remember what you did to your knuckles to protect them. You no longer carry those calluses."
"No. After several years on the Isle, I decided I no longer needed added protection for smashing things with my bare hands. I don't know why I even cared. I had become so used to them that it actually took a few days for me to feel normal again without them. I'm sure you influenced the decision somewhat, as odd as it sounds. Perhaps I thought you would come rushing to my side if only my hands were more attractive." Arya laughed softly. "I can't even tell you how many times I almost reached out to touch you and drew my hand back for fear of offending you."
"You always did have to be careful, didn't you?"
"Aye, but I believe I can understand why you responded the way you did. In retrospect, though I do believe my feelings were honest, I see how immature I was and truly how childish I must have appeared in your eyes. I know I'm not much older now, and you're still far older than I, but I feel somehow as if I grew more during the time we were apart than in years added to my age. I imagine it must have felt to you like it would feel to me if a five-year-old girl professed her love and adoration of me."
Arya giggled at the thought. "Something like that. I didn't find it flattering at the time. And Fírnen reminded me right before I decided to come here that it surely had something to do with the fact that Fäolin, who was my friend and confidant for twenty years, had died so recently when I first met you."
"You also told me something of that on the same evening," Eragon remembered, stroking her cheek. "Do you still think about him?"
"Occasionally. But not with pain. I would imagine that you have also noticed some significant changes in myself since the time we were reunited."
"Indeed," Eragon confirmed. "You almost seem like . . ."
Arya smiled as he trailed off. "Like a different person?" she suggested.
Eragon nodded, also smiling. "That's one way to put it," he allowed. "You're more open, teasing, emotional, but only in a good sense. I mean, in Alagaёsia you never showed much emotion, from what I can remember anyway. And you're very passionate, which I never expected. Not that I mind. I can see how Fäolin's recent death must have played a significant role in your behavior. We have only been together for a couple of weeks, but I know I would be devastated if I lost you. I can't imagine how much stronger that would be after twenty years of companionship."
Arya nodded. "Yes, before Fäolin died, I was much more like I am now. I told you that night that if you had known me as I was before Gil'ead, you would not have considered me so aloof. Then I could sing and dance without feeling threatened by a sense of impending doom.
"But you are more to me than Fäolin was, Eragon, and I told you that he was someone I could talk to, someone who understood me. You understand me even better, for I never shared my true name with Fäolin. I know I loved him as a friend, and perhaps more, if I had allowed myself to believe that such a relationship wouldn't have distracted from our duties—a sentiment you are familiar with—but I never confessed that to him, and it didn't seem to interfere with our friendship. So yes, I do believe that was largely why I acted as I did during the war and the main reason I am so different now. You are my closest friend, Eragon, someone I trust and love even more than Fäolin, someone who accepts me with a full knowledge of my flaws. And I also no longer feel threatened by a sense of impending doom, nor do I even have the responsibilities of being ambassador or queen. Coming here was the first time in decades that I decided to give priority to my own feelings."
"Thank you for sharing that," Eragon gently said. "I am honored that you came to feel as you do."
"Though your youthfulness once bothered me," Arya concluded, "there is no question that you grew in wisdom and maturity well beyond your years and not just while we were apart. I began to notice it right before you left and admired it often during the years of our separation."
"I tried so hard, Arya, and you were always my motivation. I hoped I would improve myself enough to be worthy of your affection and that you would change your opinion of me, not out of pity but because I had earned it."
Arya kissed his cheek, her eyes filling with tears.
"I'm sorry, my love," Eragon said. "I didn't mean to make you feel somber. I believe the lighthearted part of me that you're seeing now is closer to the true me than the versions you're more familiar with, just as your current personality is a truer reflection of who you are. I feel that I can be myself without fear of offending you." Then with a sly wink he added, "Save in mentioning the topic of relieving oneself." Eragon hoped to make her laugh again, and he succeeded.
Arya laughed and blinked at the same time, quickly wiping away the tears that fell as she did. "I suppose I don't even mind that so much now, after all we have shared as husband and wife. Of course, I mean the mentioning of it. I fear I'll never get so comfortable with you as to feel at ease doing that right in front of you." And having said only that, the blush in her cheeks was so rewarding that Eragon laughed.
"I know you hate that I say it so often, but I love it when you do that," Eragon said, placing the fingers of one hand over her cheek to feel the warmth.
Arya leaned her cheek into his hand and closed her eyes. After a moment she thoughtfully added, "Although I suppose after giving birth in front of you, all of my inhibitions might disappear forever."
Eragon now became somber. "I've been trying not to think about that," he confessed. "I worry for you, Arya. From all I have ever been able to observe about it, childbirth seems the most agonizing, excruciating experience a woman must endure. I remember how Elain sounded during Hope's birth."
"You need not worry, Eragon," Arya reassured. "It is only that way for those women because they believe it must be and therefore create that experience. In their fear and ignorance, they work against their body's efforts, which produces unbearable pain."
Eragon remained silent, but his skepticism must have been clear in his expression.
"Think about it, Eragon," Arya pressed. "You grew up in a rural village among farm animals. Surely you must have witnessed the birth of a baby animal at some point. Did the laboring mother ever appear to be enduring excruciating agony? Did she wail and thrash and suffer?"
Eragon's skepticism faded somewhat as he contemplated her questions and recognized the truth in her words. "No, I suppose not," he allowed.
"No, certainly not," Arya insisted. "She peacefully rested and relaxed while her body, according to its perfect design, opened and expelled the baby with very little effort of her own. Why then would it be that the most intelligent and sentient of all mammals must be doomed to suffer such horrendous agony? Our bodies are also perfectly designed for the work of not only growing a baby—which monumental and intricate effort takes place with absolutely no conscious thought of our own throughout the entire pregnancy—but also to flawlessly deliver that baby when the time comes for it to be born." In her fervor, Arya raised herself up, supporting her weight over her elbow so she could speak more clearly.
"The muscles of the womb are able to perform their proper function in an efficient and comfortable manner when the woman trusts them to do it and relaxes herself under their effort. It is only when she resists the powerful opening surges out of fear and ignorance that she begins to feel pain. Tensing herself in opposition to the measured efforts of the womb will create pain." Eragon was somewhat confused, which Arya must have seen.
"It's actually the same as when one needs to relieve themselves," Arya explained, hearkening back to his previous joke in an effort to find an example he could relate with. "Once one feels that pressure, their body desires to relax and release it. But if it were perhaps not an appropriate time to relieve oneself, one would resist the efforts of their muscles and hold it in and would thereby begin to feel discomfort. Resisting the natural function of one's muscles creates the pain. And the longer one went without relieving themselves when once they felt the need, the greater the pain would be. Do you see?" Eragon nodded as he made the connection.
"The longer the woman resists the efforts of the womb to open in her fearful and tense state, the harder and harder the womb must work to open, and the greater her pain will be as the womb fights against the tension of all surrounding muscles. When she begins to perceive the efforts of her body as painful, her fear also increases, which increases her tension and therefore her pain. It is a terrible cycle that is all but impossible to escape, especially if she is unprepared for what is happening, for the strength and duration of the opening surges increase as the labor progresses.
"Her fear also has the unfortunate effect of causing her body to prepare to fight some unknown danger or to flee from it, and all the blood rushes from the non-vital organs—one of which would be the womb—to the heart and arms and legs. Without sufficient blood and oxygen to perform its essential task, the uterus begins to suffer, creating yet another condition by which the woman will feel pain."
"At this point, I don't know why I should be so astonished by the perfect logic of your explanation," Eragon admitted, "but I am. Everything I have ever known or assumed about women and the mysteries of their creative ability was completely erroneous."
"Don't worry, darling," Arya comforted. "Many women also very earnestly believe that childbirth is the most traumatizing, painful experience they will ever have, which I find terribly unfortunate."
"So are you saying childbirth needn't be painful?" Eragon asked.
"Precisely," Arya approved. "It needn't be painful, nor is it meant to be. It is meant to be the crowning achievement of a woman's creative power. When a woman is aware of what is happening throughout her labor—aware of how her womb changes from opening to expelling, and what she must do in each of these separate and distinct phases of labor—she can work with her body rather than against it, thereby reducing or completely removing any perceptions of pain.
"Childbirth is beautiful, peaceful, and comfortable. It should be the most empowering, precious experience a woman and her husband will ever have. But though it need not be painful, it almost goes without saying that it ends up being that way for many, simply because those women do not adequately prepare themselves. And, indeed, it does occasionally happens that a well-prepared woman experiences discomfort because of unforeseen complications. But I sincerely believe that it is one of the most regrettable and pervasive misconceptions among humankind to think that the birth of a baby is inherently dangerous and painful and should be approached with great misgiving."
"You have put my mind at ease," Eragon said. "After your detailed explanation, I see no reason why it shouldn't be that way, especially since I truly have witnessed the calm, peaceful experience you described in laboring animals. It really doesn't make any sense that humans—or any of the other two-legged, sentient races—would be the only mammals doomed to experience misery and agony during the birthing of their young. I find that I now eagerly anticipate this blessed experience."
"As you should, Eragon. It will be marvelous, no matter what might happen thereafter. Bringing our child into this world is something I look forward to as much as I did marrying you." Arya smiled at him then continued, "Do you remember when, at Hope's birth, I said I could have sung the baby from Elain's womb right from the start?"
Eragon nodded, and Arya went on, "That is what elves do to remain relaxed and in cooperation with the efforts of the womb during labor. We sing a song of trust and peace and love to our minds, to our laboring bodies, and to our babies. We trust the entire process—that our body is capable, that our mind is capable, and that our baby is capable, for even the baby assists in the birth process. The song reminds us to remain in harmony with all that is happening so it will be effortless."
"So there's no work on your part, then?" Eragon asked. "Of pushing or anything at all?"
"Not entirely," Arya said. "While the womb is opening, my effort is to remain as relaxed as possible so I do not interfere with the work only the uterus can perform at that point. This I accomplish by singing, as I said, and deep breathing to provide the womb and the baby with a constant supply of oxygen. However, once that task is complete, different muscles within the womb begin a completely different work of pushing the baby out, and in this stage of the birth I can be more helpful with some effort of my own. We also continue singing our song of invitation, which encourages the baby to peacefully exit its comfortable home. It is not necessary, just somewhat relieving, to take an active part in the birth, for the uterus is perfectly capable of performing the entire task with no assistance from the mother. But with some gentle and timely pushing, she may help her baby arrive a bit sooner."
Eragon smiled at her obvious anticipation. "You truly are excited for it, aren't you?"
Arya answered with a radiant smile and by saying, "Never have you spoken a greater understatement, my darling."
Eragon found his mind too occupied contemplating Arya's lengthy lesson to desire sleep. But it had also brought something less pleasant back to his thoughts. After a time he said, "Though I am loath to bring it up again, I suppose we must decide what we intend to do. Where shall we begin our search for answers? When shall we return to Alagaёsia?"
Arya's eyes had a distant look as she imagined the blessed event they had been discussing. With obvious reluctance, she brought her focus back to the present and regarded him thoughtfully before replying, "The most logical starting point seems the Eldunarí. The Riders would have had a strong presence in Alagaёsia seven hundred years ago. Perhaps one of the dragons remembers rumors or whispers of a strange occurrence in the eastern woods of Du Weldenvarden around the time of Angela's birth. It certainly wouldn't hurt to at least ask."
"That seems wise. And I suppose we must know what they know, if anything, before we decide what to do next."
"No matter what they might have to share with us, I think I would like to stay here for a short time so I can see what life is like for a Dragon Rider on the Isle of the Eldunarí," Arya said.
"I think life will be much different for the Dragon Riders on the island now that their most senior brother and master, for all intents and purposes, is a happily married man. There is no denying that I was always fiercely devoted to my work here, Arya, but I fear I was also stern and miserable. The other Riders will hardly know what to make of me now as they discover this lighthearted side of me that you mentioned. It's even newer to them than to you, who occasionally had some glimpse of it in Alagaёsia."
"Well, I look forward to seeing them adapt. From what little I have been able to observe, you earned their respect in no small way."
"Perhaps," Eragon allowed with a small smile. "Very well. I feel no desire to sleep at the moment, though some dinner would be welcome. What do you say? We could visit the Eldunarí after, if that pleases you."
"It pleases me greatly," Arya quipped with mock formality, continuing in the same tone, "It will be amusing to see my appetite grow to match yours in the next several months."
"Yes, it will." Eragon sat and reached for his pants. "These still look brand new," he observed as he pulled them on. "I guess after you first helped me remove them, I never wore them again until we came back."
"You looked better that way," Arya said with a grin. "Why spoil your perfect appearance with a piece of shaped leather?"
"I couldn't agree more," Eragon said, regretfully watching her body disappear under her clothing.
Arya smiled and ran her fingers through her hair a few times to pull it free of her shirt. Then she extended her hand. "Shall we?"
"But of course, my lady," Eragon playfully replied. He quickly shrugged into his shirt before taking her hand and leading her off toward the Great Hall. "If we're lucky, we'll arrive in time for dinner and not have to do too much work ourselves."