"I used to wonder what the future would hold," she said to him as he sat up, her voice light. "Now, I wonder what I've missed."
Eragon reached toward her, offering a comforting hand. "The future is still uncertain, Arya, but I know there are many more secrets and adventures for us to share. You haven't missed anything. This life is just beginning for us."
"So, Eragon," Roran said with a smirk as they emerged from their tent, "I didn't hear anything last night that would indicate I am to be an uncle anytime soon."
Arya raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. "He does try his best," she said dryly. "But there's enough to deal with at the moment."
Eragon sighed, pretending to ignore them. "Very funny. Keep talking, Roran. Maybe I'll have Firnen give you a real thrill mid-flight."
Roran chuckled. "Just saying, cousin. I never thought I'd see the day when you'd share a tent with royalty, and now you're not even taking advantage of it."
Arya shot him a look of mock reproach. "Unlike some, patience is a virtue I've learned well."
Arya hadn't forgotten that Roran had impregnated Katrina in the midst of a war.
Eragon, sensing another jab, cut in. "Careful, Roran. You won't win a game of wit against Arya."
Roran only grinned wider, clearly enjoying the banter. "I'll take my chances, Shadeslayer. Though I've got to admit—keeping up with her must be harder than dodging dragon fire."
Arya smirked and mounted Firnen with a fluid motion. "Oh, he's managing. Barely."
With that, they took off toward Kirtan, the friendly jabs between them only fueling the growing sense of family as they flew.
Once airborne, the trio headed toward Kirtan, the remote elven city nestled on the edge of Du Weldenvarden. The flight was peaceful, the forests below gradually becoming denser as they neared the elven territory.
As they descended toward Kirtan, Eragon and Arya couldn't help but notice the subtle changes in the city. While Kirtan was remote and predominantly elven, the presence of a few humans and even dwarves mingling with elves was undeniable. It was a delicate mix, and the air held an underlying tension, but Eragon sensed there was also curiosity and mutual respect.
"They're adjusting," Arya said in the group's mental link, her gaze observing the interactions below. "But it will take time for everyone to grow accustomed to this mingling of cultures."
Roran nodded. "It's a start, though. When I first came here, I never imagined seeing humans and dwarves mixing with elves like this."
The atmosphere in Kirtan was quieter compared to the larger cities, the harmony of the elven people clear in their movements and their connection to the forest, but the sight of outsiders hinted at a future where the boundaries between the races might blur further.
As they landed, Eragon looked around at the small but significant blending of cultures. "This is the future," he said softly, "and it's our job to make sure it works."
As Eragon, Arya, Roran, and Haroldun descended into Kirtan, they were quickly approached by a small group of elves who had clearly heard rumors of Arya's impending resignation. Their usual calm composure was tinged with surprise and reverence, especially as their eyes were drawn to Dorzada, the young stone-colored dragon.
"Dorzada," one elf whispered in awe, recognizing the rare color of the dragon's scales. "His hue is reminiscent of the deep stones beneath Tarnag."
Haroldun, who had never set foot in Du Weldenvarden before, found himself overwhelmed by the atmosphere. The towering trees, their silver leaves shimmering in the twilight, and the harmony of the forest pressed in on him. It was not a hostile sensation, but it made the dwarf feel small in a way he had never experienced.
"Is it always like this?" he asked through their bond, sharing his wonder and anxiety with Dorzada.
"For the elves, it is," Dorzada replied, his voice tinged with the wisdom of his kind. "The forest sings for them."
As the group dismounted, the elves approached Arya first, offering deep bows of respect. "Drottningu," one of them said softly, his voice laced with curiosity and concern, "the rumors... are they true? Have you really chosen to step down from the throne?"
Arya met their gazes, her calm demeanor not faltering, though Eragon could sense the complexity of emotions behind her composure. "It is true," she confirmed, her voice steady. "I have served my people for many years, but it is time for me to take a different path."
The elves exchanged glances, clearly unsettled by the idea. "You have been our strength," another spoke, their tone pleading. "Will we not falter without you?"
Arya smiled gently, placing a hand on the elf's shoulder. "You will not falter. The strength of the elves is not tied to any one person. Dathedr will be a capable leader, and the forest will continue to guide you."
While the elves expressed their gratitude and concern, they also looked at Dorzada again with wonder. A few murmured about the growing number of dragons in Alagaësia, and how Dorzada's presence marked a new era. Haroldun, overhearing these comments, puffed his chest slightly, pride swelling in him.
"Did you hear that?" he thought to Dorzada. "They wonder at you."
Dorzada hummed in response, still tired from the flight but radiating a quiet satisfaction. A dragon's ego was something you could always appeal to.
Arya took Eragon's hand in her own and spoke to the elves gathered with confidence.
"I did my best to lead our people," Arya said. "But I am not just a Queen. I am also a dragon rider, and Firnen is as much a part of me as being an elf.
A few of them nodded in understanding while others waited for the rest, eyeing her hand in his.
"Eragon and I have been mates for the past fifteen years," she said. "And Saphira and Firnen are mated as well. I couldn't keep them from each other any longer with hatchlings on the way."
Joy spread to the group after her admission. Dragon hatchlings were a blessing in her culture. They were celebrated because their races were linked so closely. Elves often judged the longevity of their race by the prevalence and longevity of dragons. To them, they were one and the same.
Eragon could tell some members were less enthusiastic about their Queen taking a human as a mate, but fifteen years together despite the distance had given the seriousness of their relationship a level of credibility not present in most elven couplings.
As they moved deeper into Kirtan, Haroldun couldn't help but glance up at the towering trees, taking in the surreal beauty of Du Weldenvarden. He had heard of its wonders, but nothing could have prepared him for the reality of being here.
"I've never seen anything like this," he admitted aloud, his voice filled with awe. "The forest, the trees... it's like stepping into a dream."
Eragon smiled at the young rider's wonder. "It's a special place. The elves have a deep connection with the forest, and it's part of what makes their magic so strong."
Roran, ever the practical one, nudged Haroldun. "Just wait until you're asked to solve an elven riddle or understand their customs. Flying might seem easy after that."
Arya, catching Roran's playful tone, added, "Perhaps we'll let him enjoy the peace a little longer before introducing him to elven politics."
The group made their way through the city, the elves parting respectfully for Arya, though their gazes lingered on the dragons. There was a sense of reverence for the ancient creatures, and Dorzada's presence was acknowledged as both a rarity and a symbol of new beginnings.
They were shown to a cluster of tree houses reserved for Arya and various members of the court when performing their duties outside of Ellesmera. After they all took some time to rest, they gathered at the base of the tree where various elves had prepared a meal for them.
As Haroldun stepped out of his tree house, his stomach growled in protest. The elven meals laid before them were light and predominantly plant-based—nothing like the hearty dwarven fare he was used to.
"Is this all they eat?" he whispered to Roran, disappointment coloring his voice. "No meat, not even a scrap?"
Eragon chuckled softly as he overheard his whisper. "You won't find elves enjoying the killing of creatures, but they're skilled at making the rest of their food just as nourishing."
Haroldun huffed but said nothing more, scanning the area for anything resembling more familiar fare. He settled on bread and soup, and Roran deftly slipped him a few strips of beef jerky he had packed in anticipation of an elvish menu.
As they wandered through the city, they passed a stable of horses, their sleek, graceful forms unlike anything Haroldun had seen. The horses were far larger and more refined than dwarven ponies, and they moved with an almost ethereal elegance.
"Those are elven horses?" Haroldun asked, astonished. "They look too delicate for real work."
The horse nearest them was named Talos for his prickly nature. He was known among the elves in Kirtan to take offense at any potential riders who did not show him or his brethren the proper respect.
Arya smiled. "They're far stronger than they appear, and faster than any other steed you've encountered, but it is their intelligence that sets them apart."
Haroldun raised an eyebrow, skeptical, but before he could argue further, another dwarf approached, a broad grin on his face.
"Ah, Haroldun! What brings another dwarf to this strange place?" the long-bearded dwarf asked, clearly relieved to see someone from his homeland.
Haroldun's face lit up with recognition. "Durngar! I didn't expect to see any of our kind here!"
The two dwarves clasped forearms and immediately began discussing the oddity of being in an elven city, sharing mutual gripes about the lack of meat and the unfamiliar customs of the elves.
"They've got all this fine greenery, but where's the ale?" Durngar joked, earning a hearty laugh from Haroldun.
"You're telling me!" Haroldun replied. "I've been craving a proper meal since we left Tronjheim. And now these horses—fast they may be, but I'd like to see one haul a real load."
Talos snorted loudly at his words.
Eragon and Arya exchanged amused glances, letting the dwarves bond over their shared grumbles. It was a rare sight—two dwarves in an elven city, but the familiarity of their conversation brought a sense of warmth to the otherwise foreign surroundings. The pair made their way back to their tree and prepared for bed. The last two days had been exciting, but they both knew they needed rest. Tomorrow they were diving headlong into the political discussions necessary to ensure Dathedr was the next ruler of the elves.
