Chapter 2 – Setting Fort
Eragon stood on the balcony of his bedroom in the treehouse. Leaning against a branch of the tree that sustained their home, he amused himself at the sight of two young cats running on the grass near the river. They played quite aggressively as they were fighting, but he knew it was all good fun.
"What is so funny?" Arya's voice came from the bedroom and soon she was standing with him on the balcony.
"Just cats being cats," he said with a smile. Then he looked at her and his jaw dropped. "Wow. You look amazing!"
She shook her head and pretended she didn't hear him. "Go get ready, or we will be late."
Eragon narrowed his eyes. "First of all, when did you get so concerned about being late, to anything? Second, where are we going?"
"It's Vanir's coronation! Honestly, Eragon!"
It made sense now. Arya didn't usually wear dresses or formal attires. For the last year they have been together in Mount Arngor, and she had slowly taken his place as the mountain's administrator, it took her an extremely formal occasion to make her forget about her leggings and tunic, such as the visit of the dwarven company a couple of months before. But right then she looked like the queen she really was, with her light green gown adjusting to her forms and delicate jewelry around her wrists. It was only fitting to the occasion.
"Right! That's today, I completely forgot."
With a last look toward the playful kittens, he went to wash and get ready for the festivities.
Why didn't you remind me of that, Saphira?
Saphira had her fun lately, making him deal with a new life with Arya alone. She would hide from his consciousness whenever she thought there was a possibility of him getting in trouble, then laugh about it. He suspected that she and Fírnen would plan all that together just to have fun on his expenses.
I'm a dragon. I could care less about coronations, she said in his mind with a tinge of humor.
All he could do now was to accept that he was the weak link in their chain. It could anger him, but he knew how to enjoy life belonging to something bigger than himself. So he simply shook his head and smiled.
Ever since they came back from Alagaësia after defeating the witch Bachel and her army of runaway magicians, life had been teaching him a lot about sharing.
For a long time, it had been only him and Saphira dealing with life as it happened. The bad and the good, all very intimately felt. The decisions he made were their decisions and nobody else's. He felt that Saphira was the only one allowed to see his motives, for, in the end, they were her motives as well. They were one, but now they were not that anymore.
Whenever he linked himself with Saphira, he heard an almost undetectable melody in the background, that was the combination of Fírnen's and Arya's minds. Eragon got used to not being alone anymore. It scared him in the beginning, and annoyed him, for he felt a lack of privacy in his thoughts. He knew it bothered Arya too, so he started to shield his mind when inside Saphira's, or completely redraw from it. For some reason, it seemed to annoy Arya even further.
"What are you doing?" She asked as they ate dinner in their little kitchen after a busy day, months before.
Eragon stooped the spoon halfway to his mouth.
"Doing what?"
"Blocking me. Us. Why are you blocking us?"
He shrugged.
"This link annoys you," he tried to sound casual, bringing the spoon of soup to his mouth.
"It does, but when you choose not to talk to me, it can be useful." She leaned back in her chair, placing her spoon on the table. Eragon understood that as a signal that they would have a serious conversation and did the same.
"You don't talk to me either."
Their voices were low and controlled, but Eragon knew they were on the verge of fighting. It happened a lot, and it was always quickly resolved.
Arya took a deep breath to appease her nerves. It was something she did a lot as well, standing by her decision of not losing too much of her patience with him.
"I don't see the point of voicing my thoughts over and over. You already know all of them," she said.
Shortly after they arrived in the east to stay forever, Arya confided in him her anxieties. She feared the feel of being an outsider and the lack of purpose now that she wasn't the queen anymore. That feeling crossed her mind frequently as Eragon could catch through their shared consciousness whenever he decided to open himself to them.
"And you already know about my everyday concerns," he said.
"But it does not mean I don't want to know more or that you cannot tell me."
"Right back at you."
Their eyes held their gaze on each other, and it was like an entire conversation happened silently. That tug of war would have to be decided in the minutia, or the argument could go on forever.
Then, when Eragon thought she would drop the subject he saw understanding passing behind her eyes. It's always the little details, he thought, that solved any dispute. And thank the gods they were both good at reading the signs.
"You think that listening to you in my head is what annoys me, don't you?"
He nodded, as it was obvious to them both.
"It doesn't," she said with conviction. "I want to hear you talk about your day and all the things you consider to be insignificant. Out loud or in our minds."
"So what does annoy you?"
"The constant noise! I want to hear you saying the words, I want to have a conversation, not catching only glimpses of your thoughts here and there and try to figure them out."
He closed his eyes, and suddenly it made sense. What annoyed him in their collective link was exactly that, the noise. Never a clear thought, an image, or a word, except for when Saphira spoke directly to him.
He smiled softly.
"It seems we have a lot of perfecting to do if this is how it's going to be for the rest of our lives.
She nodded, and slowly he allowed her melody to enter his mind, not through Saphira and Fírnen this time. When he heard her music, he saw her concerns about his exhaustion and his physical well-being. It was clear this time like those were his thoughts not somebody else's.
Eragon shook his head and placed his hand on hers.
"Arya, you don't have to worry. It almost doesn't hurt anymore." He touched his chest where the scar given by Bachel lay under his shirt. "Besides, I've always been this tired."
"Maybe you should get help."
"I have help." He let go of her hand so he could restart eating. Arya didn't always cook, but when she did it was simply amazing. He considered himself as being the best cook of the two of them, and he knew Arya did as well, but it tasted better to eat somebody else's food, he didn't know why. "The elves help. They have always been by my side, and I can't complain."
Arya followed his lead, restarting to eat, but her eyes wouldn't leave him. Inside his mind, she spoke, I meant me.
After that, it seemed their lives started to fall into a comfortable rhythm. Arya slowly took his responsibilities as an administrator until the people, in a general assembly, agreed to officially nominate her as their governor. She had the experience as a ruler and was a powerful Rider, someone capable of leading and defending the people if needed. It was perfect, natural.
As he washed in the bathtub, he felt Arya nudging him to hurry. It made him smile. It was odd to see an elf so concerned about time. He did his best not to make them late for the celebration.
Almost a year had passed since she left her throne to be with him in the east, and only now the new king would be coronated. It took quite some time to gather a new council, then have them selecting the new ruler. Eragon only knew that Arya had a great say in that, being consulted weekly through scrying as the decisions were being made. Even away from the throne, she still played the political game of the elves, after all, she was the last living member of her ancestral family.
He didn't know how exactly their politics worked, and when he asked her about it, she gave him an explanation that only brought more questions than before. He decided to leave it at that.
"I'm ready," he announced as he went downstairs to find her waiting by the window, mimicking his stance of moments before when he watched the cats.
"Why there are so many cats in these lands?" She asked without looking at him.
The question made him remember his beginning in Mount Arngor when it all seemed to conspire against his and Saphira's endeavor of creating a new home for the dragons. There was a shortage of food for the people that followed them east, and the problems seemed to multiply, from crazed Eldunarí to rats stealing the little food they could gather.
"Damn you rats!" He cursed after realizing that the stock of grains had been raided by rats during the night, that ran away to the sight of him.
It was the first result of their farming activities, but they were not enough to feed the entire group residing in Mount Arngor for too long.
Eragon walked around the shed casting repelling spells on the production, his palm glowing in the dim light of the room. He hoped that it would keep the rodents away but knew it wouldn't last long. When he finished chanting, he took another look around to check if there were any more rats and left.
"Maybe if we had some cats, this issue would be easily solved," he said to himself.
Thinking of how different his farming habits were in the Palancar Valley, he couldn't help feeling a bitter taste in his mouth. How had his life come to this? He had never chosen any of this, or had he? Somehow, he ended up miles and miles away from home, missing his loved ones more than he had ever thought he would.
Stop, Eragon. Saphira's mind tried to ease his own. He sighed.
I can't stop feeling, Saphira. How will I make sense of things if I'm not allowed to feel my emotions? I don't want to become a heartless broken man.
Her influence on him decreased but didn't halt.
The things you cannot change hurt you, so I can't help trying to protect you. Her caring voice echoed in his head.
He felt loved and warm inside despite the sadness that kept crawling inside his chest.
I know, and I'm grateful. But I don't think it's a bad thing, being emotional even about what I can't change. Reflecting upon those emotions allows me to know myself, to know what I value the most. I promise I'm fine.
Reflecting upon those emotions allowed him to get back to focus on his work and the purpose of his choices for the next years. Then the Games came to Arngor, and everything changed.
"Rats," he said simply as she turned to see him.
Her eyes beamed and she took a deep breath.
"Not bad, Shadeslayer," she complimented him in the way she did best, indirectly.
Eragon smiled content.
"Shall we go?"
Arya nodded, and they headed out. When they approached Fírnen and Saphira by the Edda, she turned to him with a puzzled expression.
"Rats, you said?"
"Aye. They were eating our grains. It was a loss of production but also couldn't risk giving people the fever. So I had Oswald bring me Cherry and Pie. He brought some more after that. It worked. And now we have dozens of them, and not so many rats."
Life in Mount Arngor started to prosper after the first Games. And with Arya as governor many years after that, the efficiency of their production had increased drastically – even after only a year –, such as the harmony among different races. Arya had a careful look upon their differences and installed a set of laws, discussed and accepted by all as a group. Every member of their community was heard. It was a lot of work, and Eragon was happy she had taken that task off his hands, for he would never have the time to be as present as she was. He had his duties as Head Rider and mentor, which took too much of his time.
As they flew over the village by the Edda, he saw Arya's first changes there taking effect. The main one was the planning of the village, with construction workers setting the pavement and other structures. They were mostly Urgals and dwarves, although some humans aided in the process. Saphira flew around a tall tower guarded by two elves, who cheered and waved their hands to the sight of them.
Eragon looked back to throw Arya a proud look as she and Fírnen greeted the elves.
The dragons landed by the main entrance of the mountain, so their Riders could dismount. Inside Mount Arngor, things started to change as well. It had been only a few months, but Arya started to organize the academy, with new structures and spaces for training and studying. It was a surprise for Eragon to walk into a hallway one day and find that where he remembered to be a floor of empty quarters was now full of individual study rooms, with the students' names engraved on the doors.
The group of four climbed the stairs but didn't have to go too high. The celebration was set to happen in a large conference room on the third floor. When they walked inside, they saw it decorated for a party with flower garlands and other adornments. There were rows of chairs in front of a big square mirror, also adorned. In the image it showed, it was possible to see the trees of Du Weldenvarden creating a roof over an empty throne.
"Right on time," said Ästrith after performing the elven greeting. "It is about to start."
Arya tightened the grip on his arm during their interaction with Ästrith, and he wondered why. A look upon her face revealed nothing.
Fírnen and Saphira took their places in the back as Arya and Eragon sat down in the front.
Eragon tried to grasp the meaning of it all. When Arya had become the Elven Queen, it was all surrounded in secrecy, something he knew she was good at. Times had changed since then, she was the regent her people needed, someone that could bring them back to the life the elves once had, among the other races. Vanir was lucky to come after an unusual queen, with a similar approach that he intended to have. And Eragon was sure that after a rebellion and some troubled couple of years, the elves would restart their way to the glory they always inspired.
And the celebration couldn't be anything different than that.
At some point, Eragon had to be shaken by Arya, being so entranced by their chanting, both in Ellesméra and in the room, all around him. He almost missed when Vanir sat on the throne because he was grabbed by the hand and spun around in dance by one of the elves. He lost sight of Arya and they only reconnected when the cheering faded, and Vanir started to address his people as their new king.
They locked eyes from across the room, and suddenly he knew she didn't want to be there anymore. At Vanir's last words, Arya crossed the room and grabbed his hand, making him move out of his haze and say a silent goodbye to the elves around him.
They walked out of there, Saphira and Fírnen decided not to follow. The elves' celebration echoed through the mountain, and it filled his chest with unusual enthusiasm. Arya guided him to the outside of the mountain, and throughout the whole way, they ran up to happy elves, that hurried to attend the party, even if they were a little late.
It had been a while since he last walked to the village by the Edda, and Arya knew that. It was night already, and the streets were lit by torches set on both sides of the path. People there, of all races inhabiting Mount Arngor, walked home from a day of work, or to the tavern, where he realized Arya was taking him.
"Why couldn't we drink there? It's the same ale and the same wine."
"I thought you would want better company."
Eragon raised his eyebrows.
"What do you mean by better company?"
Arya shrugged and didn't say a word. They were close to the tavern, already alive with all the voices and laughs.
"Arya!" He grabbed her arm to make her stop. "What do you mean by that?"
She avoided his eyes for a moment but when she looked at him, Eragon felt his stomach sink.
"I just don't like the way some of the elves act around you," she spoke low, careful to choose her words well. Suddenly, her reaction to meeting Ästrith at the celebration made perfect sense.
"Some of the elves, or one in specific?"
For their time together, Eragon slowly figured out that Arya could be incredibly jealous. Most of the time, she would control herself, and he barely knew how she felt. That feeling kept bottling up inside of her, and he didn't even know how much.
"Oh, so you know who I'm thinking about?"
He knew. Taking a deep breath, Eragon ran his hand through his hair, already regretting asking the question.
"I believe I do."
"So why do you still keep her so close? And why is this the first conversation we have ever had about her?"
Eragon decided that fighting in the middle of the street was not something he found pleasant, so turned around and started to walk home. It was a long way, but at least they would have time to discuss.
"Because nothing has ever happened between us."
Arya followed, and soon they were walking side by side. He refused to look at her but could feel her eyes piercing his face.
"Well, something happened, or Angela wouldn't have heard rumors and told me about it."
"Angela? What does she have to do about that?"
"Exactly my point. If people that have nothing to do with our relationship know more about it than me then we have a big problem."
"Arya," he started then took a deep breath, trying to control his frustration, "you don't know anything about it because there's nothing to know about. I promise Ästrith and I were never a thing. Ever."
They walked a few steps in silence, still, he refused to look at her.
"That's impossible."
Her whispered words came to his ears to make him curious about her expression. When Eragon looked at her she seemed like someone trying to solve the most difficult of puzzles.
"What is?"
She shook her head, as an entire conversation had been going on inside her mind. Arya would often do that, talk to herself in her head, figuring things out as they happened. Sometimes, she questioned him about something but didn't even need to hear from him because before he could speak, she already knew the answer.
"It would be impossible for you to live here, at such a young age, and not be interested in anyone else."
"That was not what this conversation is about. I didn't say I was never interested in anyone else."
"So something happened."
Eragon stopped his walk so they could look at each other.
"Listen. I won't lie and say that we didn't try, all right? We did, Ästrith and I. But I wasn't lying to you when I said you were my first, or that nothing really happened."
"What do you mean you tried?"
"We grew close in those first years here in the East. I felt lonely, and talking with you through the mirrors was always an official event, not even close to what I wished for the both of us. So I tried to start something with her. But I couldn't. We were never together."
Arya seemed to have calmed herself and listened to him carefully. When he finished, she looked away to the mountain, that stood in the night, faintly lit by the moonlight.
"She still has feelings for you."
Eragon sighed.
"I know."
"It will pass though."
"How do you know that?"
"It is not like the elves to stay in love with the same person forever."
Her feet brought her to walk back to town now that the hard part of their conversation was over.
"Does that mean that you will fall out of love with me?" He asked with humor in his voice as she gained a little distance.
"Oh, no. After everything I did to keep you alive? No, it would be a waste. You will have to bear with me for the rest of your life, Rider."
He laughed at her subtle declaration of her love for him. As he watched her move, he feared nothing. All their discussions and disagreements, they were all so they could live better with each other as time progressed, as he finally understood.
"Arya!" He called, and she turned to look at him. "Were you mad because I had a past before you? Just so I understand."
She raised her hand so he could close the distance to grab it.
"I'm always mad when you don't tell me things. I guess it's because I also do this sometimes and know it can hurt us."
As they walked to the tavern, Eragon thought about what she said. For two people that could read each other's minds, they seemed very prone to keep secrets. And maybe that wasn't that bad after all.
"If we don't keep things from each other, what will we talk about when we run out of subjects to discuss? Remember, you promised to be with me forever. It's a long, long time."
"We will have to keep doing new things all the time to gather up conversation material."
"Maybe we should live apart," he said with malice in his words and looked at her just to see her reaction. It didn't disappoint, for she raised her shoulders and let go of his hand. If it was only a jest, he didn't know, but he had to hold a laugh.
"That's a great idea. You will be able to finally be with Ästrith."
Arya betrayed herself as the corner of her lips raised slightly in a sneering smile.
"Why stop there? I'm sure there's more than one elf that wishes to be with me."
"Eragon?" She called as he still laughed at his own joke. "Don't push it. I'm still not totally over that story yet."
It was with relief that they ran up to Angela and Solembum as they approached the tavern. Arya would finally let go of her grudge, at least for that night.
"Hello, you two!" Angela greeted them. "I see you are having a pleasant evening."
"Hello, Angela. How is your gossip business going? I heard you have a lot of customers," Eragon said as he held the door for the others to enter.
Angela's loud laugh was muffled by the voices inside the tavern.
"And I heard you are quite the heartbreaker. Who knew."
Arya was already sitting down at a table with Solembum nestling up to a chair next to her when Eragon softly tapped Angela on the shoulder so she could turn to him.
"Angela, I never had the chance to thank you for," he looked at Arya then back to the herbalist, "teaching Arya how to make the potion. So, thank you."
Angela gave him an empathetic smile.
"Anytime. You know that the elves have better methods to avoid pregnancy, don't you?"
He nodded and ran his fingers through his hair.
"I heard. But she wishes to try again in the future, so your potion is a much less definitive solution than what was presented to us."
"Yes, the elves can be a little intense with these matters. That's why they have become so rare over the years. The young ones seemed to be eager to change that, so we will see what happens in the future."
Eragon agreed, so Angela added, "but I'll say to you what I said to her. Work on yourselves, that the rest will fall into place."
Whatever that meant, Eragon didn't have the energy to question her as he always did. After Bachel, he had learned to let Angela's words drift until they found the hidden meaning they searched for. He simply smiled at her and nodded once. She seemed satisfied with his reaction, for she went to Arya and Solembum's table almost bouncing on her feet. It looked like she knew his future as it was a map unfolded right in front of her eyes. How did she know that? He once promised not to ask. But one thing was certain: if things would fall into place, there was still hope. The story was still to be written, and Eragon was the best writer he knew.
A/N: Hello!
Not much to say except thank you for reading. I don't know when I'm posting again, but hopefully soon.
See you next time!