Disclaimer: I do not own any part of the Harry Potter or Eragon universes.
The next morning arrived, accompanied by the first rays of sunlight streaming through the window. Eragon was still deep in slumber, dreaming of chestnut-brown eyes, when suddenly a loud voice pierced the air.
"WAKE UP, ERAGON! IT'S TIME TO GET UP!"
Eragon's eyes shot wide open, and in shock, he tumbled out of bed. He propped himself up on the edge of the mattress with his arms, his tired eyes almost closing again when the voice sounded once more, even louder this time.
"GET YOUR ARSE MOVING! COME ON!"
"Who's shouting like that?" Saphira grumbled wearily in his mind. Obviously, she too was awakened by the commotion.
"It sounds like Harry's voice," Eragon yawned, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
"If it's him, I will drop him from the highest mountain," Saphira grumbled.
Eragon smiled and cautiously extended his mind into his surroundings, as Brom had taught him. Immediately, he sensed Saphira. She was like the largest swarm of fireflies he had ever seen. He continued to search for others but couldn't find anyone else.
"NOW WASH YOURSELF! WE DON'T HAVE ALL DAY!" Harry's voice echoed through the room.
"Where is that coming from?!" Eragon wondered, covering his ears as Harry's voice grew even louder.
Saphira had now risen, and she emitted a grey cloud of smoke from her nostrils.
"From there," she said.
Eragon turned around and saw the alarm clock lying on the floor, the one Oromis had given them.
"MOVE YOUR LAZY ARSE - " Those were the last words that rang out from the clock, as Saphira had enough and placed her front paw on it, causing it to disassemble under her heavy weight.
"Finally, it's quiet," she said, satisfied.
"Saphira!" Eragon said indignantly. "Oromis gave us that clock! You'll have to explain to him why we need a new one."
Saphira snorted in annoyance. "Fine. But I wonder when Harry had the opportunity to enchant this alarm clock."
Eragon looked embarrassedly away.
Saphira nudged him with her nose against his chest, causing him to plop back onto the bed. "Eragon!"
"It was just for a moment! Harry asked how it worked, and I only gave it to him for a brief moment."
Her blue eyes glared sharply at him. "Then you'll have to be more careful in the future. I don't think this will be Harry's last prank and I like my sleep."
After Eragon had washed and miserably failed in his attempt to shave with the razors the elves had left for him in the morning, which was why he had to resort to magic to remove the few stubbles adorning his chin and he still felt grumpy as he stepped out of his house. He furrowed his eyebrows darkly upon seeing Harry, who greeted him with a cheerful grin.
"Harry you are a little shit and I hate you," Eragon said simply as he approached and gave him a firm hit on the shoulder.
"Ouch! What was that for?" Harry exclaimed, rubbing his shoulder with a mischievous grin.
Eragon just glared at him. "You know exactly why! Because of you, Saphira and I have been awake for hours."
Harry waved him off. "Oromis told you we should get up early," he reminded him.
Eragon grunted. "Perhaps, but certainly not in this manner."
Harry raised an eyebrow. "Then be grateful I didn't attack you in the night like Moody would have. Then you wouldn't have had a moment's peace."
Eragon shuddered. There was a time when they were still young, when Roran and he fought each other repeatedly. Eventually, they even tried it at night, and Eragon could remember the sleepless nights until his uncle Garrow put his foot down and forbade them from fighting each other, or they would both be sleeping with the pigs. Something neither Eragon nor Roran had much interest in.
Harry gave him a slight shove. "Besides, this morning isn't all that bad. Did Oromis give you a message as well?"
Eragon nodded and pulled out the piece of parchment from his pocket.
"An elf will lead us to the training grounds, where someone will practice sword fighting with us. I wonder why Oromis isn't teaching us himself," Eragon said, furrowing his brow.
Harry grimaced as he remembered Oromis's seizure. He really needed to start working on that. "I think Oromis either believes there's someone who can teach us better, or he no longer feels capable of teaching us sword fighting by himself. I do hope it's the former."
Eragon nodded sadly. It was terrible what fate had befallen their masters. One of many crimes for which Galbatorix would one day pay.
"Do you know who will accompany us?" Eragon asked, his eyes widening as Niduen approached them.
She stopped in front of them, and they greeted each other in the way they were taught.
"Good morning, Niduen. Did Oromis send you?" Harry asked afterwards.
"Yes, and a good morning to you as well, Harry. Good morning, Eragon," she greeted them both with a smile.
Eragon melted at the sight of her smile, and he almost forgot to reply when he felt a light kick against his calf.
"G-Good morning, Niduen," Eragon smiled.
Niduen returned his smile. She glanced down at his clothing.
"Do you like the Lámarae?" Niduen asked curiously.
Eragon nodded enthusiastically and ran his hands over the soft fabric of his tunic. "It's excellent! Whoever made it did a great job. I've never worn anything so noble."
Harry grinned as Niduen's cheeks turned slightly pink.
"I thank you, Shadeslayer," she said softly and began to show them the way.
"Come, I'll show you the way to the training grounds."
Eragon blinked in shock and followed her with a flushed face.
Harry chuckled amused and shook his head. Although Katrina had always said he had no clue about women, even he could tell that Eragon and Niduen were taken with each other. He felt inwardly happy for him. After all that Eragon had been through in the past months, he now had the chance not to function as a Dragon Rider but as a young man.
He then remembered something.
"Oi, Eragon. I am still taller than you!"
"Shut up, Harry."
The prevailing silence was really awkward. Eragon and Niduen, after initial attempts at conversation, had both fallen into silence.
Harry tilted his head thoughtfully. Perhaps he would need to ask Sirius for help. Hopefully, he could assist Eragon.
"So, Niduen. Do you enjoy weaving?" Harry asked.
"Yes, I enjoy it very much," she answered hesitantly. "I learned it from my grandmother, and it allows me to retreat from all the events of the world. Similarly, I feel the same way about music."
"You sing?" Eragon asked, surprised.
Niduen laughed and shook her head. "No, I'm not talented at singing. My voice more resembles the cawing of a thirsty raven wandering in the desert. But I do enjoy playing music with my wooden flute."
Her hand moved to her waist, where her flute was kept.
"I don't believe that," Eragon said firmly. "You have a lovely voice, and I firmly believe you can sing beautifully."
Harry blinked in surprise. Eragon was still young, but no one could say he wouldn't mince his words.
Harry trailed behind the two, unable to see Niduen's reaction, but he noticed a slight skip in her step. Apparently, she did appreciate Eragon's compliment.
Seconds passed, and the uncomfortable silence returned.
Why couldn't Arya be here? At least then I would have someone to talk to, Harry thought with a groan.
He sighed, and they followed the path, turning right at one point where a large mushroom grew, and walked for a few more minutes until they emerged between the trees and found a large field in front of them.
Harry looked up and saw that the crowns of the surrounding trees had grown together, and the branches and leaves, much like in the Tialdarí Hall, acted as a tall roof.
In the middle of the field, some elves were engaged in combat. Their swords clashed in such rapid succession that the blades sounded like the roaring of a fierce storm.
On the side, Harry saw more elves dancing, their bodies moving with great grace.
"Niduen? What are the elves doing over there?" Harry asked quietly. She slowed her pace, and Eragon followed suit until they were level with each other.
"They are performing the Rimgar, the dance of snake and crane. Many elves use the Rimgar to be flexible and stay healthy. I'm sure Oromis-Elda will teach it to you two soon," Niduen replied in an equally hushed tone.
Harry was grateful that she answered quietly because he didn't want rumours to develop about how little they knew. He had enough of rumours.
Niduen led them onto the training ground, and the fighters, both women and men, stopped their fights and slightly bowed before them.
An elf with black hair stepped forward, and Harry immediately had a bad feeling. The elf's expression reminded him of Snape. He had entered every class with the same sour expression, and the elf did no attempt to hide his unwillingness.
The elf tilted his head slightly and greeted them in elfish manner. "I am Vanir of house Haldthin."
Harry suppressed the urge to raise his eyebrows.
Bloody hell. Why do I get the feeling that Isílwen has her hand in this?
"Are you the elf who is supposed to train us?" Eragon asked, but Vanir ignored him.
He turned to Niduen, and from the corner of his eye, Harry saw her clench her right hand into a fist.
"Niduen, thank you for leading the Riders here. You may leave now," Vanir said.
Niduen nodded briefly, before she threw a worrying glance to Eragon, but then turned away. Eragon watched her over his shoulder until she disappeared behind the trees.
Eragon turned back around and saw a sword pointed at him.
"Death," Vanir said. "So, this is the attention a human possesses. This is ridiculous."
Great, thought Harry, gripping the hilt of his sword. The elf who's supposed to train us is also a massive arse.
Vanir withdrew his sword and eyed them both for a moment.
"To answer your question, Argetlam. Yes, Oromis-Elda instructed me to teach you sword fighting. Dull your blades, it begins!"
Harry blinked. Vanir hadn't told them who should start first. Did the elf think he could take on both of them?
"I'll go first," Eragon said firmly. Since defeating Durza, Eragon had gained a lot of self-confidence. In some situations, it was even too much. He drew Zar'roc and dulled its blade, but as he passed his fingers along the edge, Harry saw that his fingers were trembling slightly.
Eragon was nervous, and that wasn't good at all. The surrounding elves stopped their exercises and watched them.
Harry wished either Artemis and Saphira had come with them, but the two had their own tasks from Glaedr, and they would only join them later when they would meet with Oromis and Glaedr.
He didn't care what others thought of him, but he didn't want to intervene and make Eragon appear to be weak.
So, with a heavy heart, he watched as the fight began.
Vanir didn't assume the typical fighting stance against Eragon. His arms hung loosely at his sides, his sword in his hand, and he stared at Eragon with a blank expression.
Eragon waited for the elf to attack him, but Vanir didn't move. Taking the initiative, Eragon lunged forward.
Zar'roc clashed against Vanir's blade in a shower of sparks, initiating a clear duel. Vanir struck with such speed and force that Eragon had no choice but to dodge, yet even through his most skilful manoeuvres, Vanir managed to hit him twice on the ribs and once on his thigh.
This was followed by a swift exchange of blows, during which Vanir struck Eragon again on the shoulder and ended the fight by exerting such force with his blade against Zar'roc that Eragon had to let go of his sword, lest he bend his wrist if he didn't.
Zar'roc clattered to the ground, and Vanir pointed his sword at Eragon, the tip cutting into his shirt, and Eragon could feel the cold metal against his skin.
"And dead again. Embarrassing. Is this all humans are capable of?" Vanir said, retracting his sword.
Eragon took a shaky breath. Harry's hand appeared in front of his eyes, and he looked up at it.
"Stand up, Eragon," Harry said, his voice serious. "Don't let empty words deter you."
Eragon nodded and pulled himself up with Harry's hand.
"Empty words?" Vanir asked softly, raising his sword. "I see before me two weaklings, just like all humans. How do you intend to fight against Galbatorix if you can't even hold a sword? All those years in captivity must have confused Saphira to choose you as her rider."
His gaze then shifted to Harry, filled with contempt.
"And don't even let me start on you. Any hope we had when we heard that a second dragon had hatched vanished like a leaf in the wind when we heard it was another human for whom she hatched. These are not empty words if you keep disappointing us."
Vanir's words elicited tense murmurs from the surrounding elves.
"Eragon, would you be so kind as to dull my sword?" Harry asked, his eyes cold.
Vanir's contempt grew, and the murmuring grew louder.
"You mean to tell me you can't even perform such a simple magic?" Vanir sneered. "And you want to be a Dragon Rider?"
"Here, Harry," Eragon murmured, walking back with Zar'roc in hand. He felt so defeated.
Harry nodded gratefully to Eragon and then turned to Vanir.
"There's something I want to tell you, Vanir, before we cross blades," Harry said defiantly.
Vanir raised an eyebrow. "Oh? And what is it, human?"
Harry stared defiantly at Vanir. "We humans may not be as strong as an Urgal, as robust as a dwarf, or as swift as an elf, and yet we face every challenge head-on."
Vanir snorted contemptuously. "What good does facing every challenge do if you realize you're inferior? Even ordinary animals know when they're outmatched."
Harry raised his arm, and his sword pointed challengingly at Vanir. "Then show me how superior you are. It shouldn't take long for an elf to defeat a weak human, right?"
„How are you feeling?" Artemis asked curiously.
Harry grunted as he dismounted and moved his shoulder. "I'm getting there... I think. The elf may be an idiot, but he knows how to wield a sword."
A deep rumble escaped from Artemis's throat. "Next time, I'm coming with you. I don't like what he said about you."
"Hm."
"Good morning, you two," Oromis greeted, who was already waiting for them. His face was paler than usual. Had Oromis had another seizure?
"Hello, Master."
"Ebrithil," Harry nodded. The elf then turned to Artemis.
"Artemis, since you arrived a bit later, Glaedr and Saphira have already flown north. If you follow the trees in that direction, you can't miss them."
"Good," she said and nudged Harry gently with her head, eliciting a smile from him.
"Take care of yourself, little one. And keep your eyes open this time; I won't wake you up again!"
Artemis heaved herself into the air and disappeared with a few flaps of her wings.
Oromis slowly made his way back to his hut. "Ebrithil, isn't Eragon here?"
His kind eyes looked at Harry with an unusual depth. "Oh, he is. Eragon is currently practicing reading, but it seems his mind is still too restless."
"Restless?" Harry asked, confused.
They entered Oromis's home, and Harry saw Eragon sitting over a scroll of parchment. His eyes flicked over the written words, but after a brief moment, he sighed and started over.
Oromis rested his arms on his hips and sighed. "How many times have you tried to read the first section now, Eragon?"
"Four times I think," Eragon admitted reluctantly. He sighed and frustratedly set the scroll aside. "My eyes just skim over the words, but I simply can't understand anything! I can't concentrate."
Oromis alternated his gaze between Eragon and Harry before finally saying, "Come with me, you two."
Eragon and Harry exchanged a fleeting glance before Eragon got up from the table, and the two followed Oromis to the stream.
He turned to them. The water trickled slowly behind him.
"So, what's got both of you so down? You, Harry, are grunting like an old man, and Eragon is acting like there's only wind between his ears."
Oromis stared at them both expectantly, and eventually, Eragon began to speak.
"It was the sword fight this morning," Eragon gritted his teeth and threw his arms in the air. "I've never felt so ashamed! And I felt miserable back when I had to learn to read from Brom. It was like I know nothing!"
Oromis turned to Harry, who shrugged, wincing in pain.
"It's as Eragon says. We both had no chance," Harry grumbled, rubbing his shoulder, which had taken several fierce blows from Vanir's sword attacks.
"I really thought that one day I could keep up with someone like Arya in sword fighting, but even my reflexes aren't enough. I'm too slow," Harry said, grumbling something unintelligible.
Oromis raised an eyebrow. "What was that, Harry?"
"And Vanir is a giant arse," Harry added with a smirk.
Oromis closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. "I had hoped you would be treated differently, but it seems my fears have proven true."
The elf extended a hand and sat down in front of them on the ground.
"Please, sit."
Harry sighed and dropped to the ground, landing on his rear end, while Eragon struggled into a cross-legged position.
"I believe if I were to describe us elves, I would initially label us as proud," Oromis said, his lips curling into a smile.
Eragon furrowed his brow. He would have thought of grace first. "Why pride?"
Oromis returned the question with a smile. "How could we not be proud? Consider how superior we are to all other races."
He began to count on his fingers. "Through the dragons, we are the only ones who have achieved the gift of immortality. Our magic is stronger than that of any other creature, and every elf dedicates themselves in their life to an area of expertise that we try to master without magic, lest we become bored."
Harry stared at Oromis with his mouth agape. "You don't really believe that Ebrithil."
Oromis grinned mischievously. "Of course not. But you understand my perspective, don't you?"
Harry nodded slowly. "Do all elves think like this?"
Oromis tapped his cheek with a long finger. "No, I doubt it very much. The elves who lived with humans and dwarves before the fall of the Order know what your races are capable of," he said, leaning back.
He looked up at the sky and remembered the years gone by... the years before the pain.
"Elves, humans, and dwarves lived in great cities. You humans possess such creativity... I spent so many nights reading your works of poetry. They were about friendship, family, love... We celebrated feasts and sang together under the stars... all elves who lived with you admired you for that. They know about the loss your race has suffered in the last 100 years. You are but a shadow of your former selves," Oromis said sadly.
"You were once curious and full of wonder, but Galbatorix has poisoned your hearts with greed and suffering. And that's what the few elves see who never tried to get to know you better or had no chance to because they were too young."
"Like Vanir?" Eragon asked.
Oromis sighed. "Indeed. Vanir is still very young for an elf and has never left Du Weldenvarden. He formed his opinion of you based on what he heard from other elves after the fall of the Dragon Riders. Is it any wonder he's so biased against you?"
"No," Harry said softly, thinking for a moment of a blond Slytherin.
"I had asked Vanir to teach you sword fighting because he truly is one of the best swordsmen who could teach you a lot, but I also did it so that he could learn in exchange from you," Oromis said.
Eragon snorted. "I don't think he ever wants to learn anything from me."
Oromis's lips curled into a grin. "Oh, don't underestimate yourself, Eragon-Finiarel."
Silence fell, and only after a moment did Eragon gather his thoughts into a question.
"How are we supposed to convince the elves that we're not weaklings? Not even Harry can keep up with them."
"Thank you."
Eragon patted Harry encouragingly on the back. "You're welcome."
Oromis snorted, but his gaze sharpened, and his eyes filled with a burning fire of energy.
"Through learning. Show them what you humans are capable of, and sooner or later, they will realize that they were mistaken about you. I am convinced of that."
With a youthful jump, Oromis stood up and clapped his hands together. It always surprised Harry how agile the old elf was despite his illness.
"But we've dallied enough. I think it's time we started training your bodies. I'll now show you the first stage of the Rimgar - there are a total of four stages-"
"The dance of snake and crane," Harry finished with a groan.
"Oh? You already know it, Harry?" Oromis raised an eyebrow.
He shook his head. "No, Niduen told us about it. We also saw some elves at the practice field performing it."
"I see. Well, stand up, you two; you've sat long enough! If we're not careful, you'll take roots like a tree."
"We certainly don't want that," Harry grumbled, getting up laboriously. His whole body ached.
Oromis showed them the movements. He was patient but paid particular attention to ensuring that they executed each movement of the Rimgar precisely.
"I don't believe my leg is supposed to bend that way," Harry groaned.
"Stop complaining, Harry. You showed me how flexible you are, and I know what your body is capable of," Oromis said confidently, and Harry's eyes widened as the elf pushed his leg down.
A high yowl echoed from the rocks of Tel'naeír over the surrounding treetops.
It was late afternoon, and Arya found herself in the Tialdarí Hall. She walked from the community hall of the elves to her family's chambers and stopped in front of a door.
The door, as was customary, had grown from the tree. The bark had been peeled off, and the wood was polished. She had seen some elves who had carved symbols on the doors to their own chambers, symbols that meant a lot to them.
Her own door had none, as she had been away for so long that she hadn't had the opportunity to inscribe anything that would mean something to her.
So, it didn't surprise Arya that on the door in front of her, there was a depiction of a dog surrounded by two flowers that bore a striking resemblance to lilies.
She raised her hand to the door but hesitated before touching the wood.
"Maybe I should just leave," she whispered, but to her dismay, the door suddenly swung open, and she saw the grim face of Sirius, Harry's godfather.
"Arya! Nice to see you, come on in," Sirius said, his face lighting up as he saw her.
Arya hesitated. "I didn't mean to disturb you."
Sirius clicked his tongue. "Family is always welcome, and that's what you are. Now come in, or I'll force you to it."
An unusual warmth spread through Arya. She nodded to Sirius and walked past him.
Thiora sat in front of her at a table that had grown out of the wall. Vines grew from the wall and held various fairths. They were of different sizes and arranged haphazardly.
On many of them, she saw either Sirius and Thiora laughing and holding each other or fairths of Lily with her parents. She also saw pictures of herself when she was younger, with her father. And of course, there was one of Harry.
She looked closer at that one and guessed that Harry must have been around fifteen years old.
Arya continued to look around, but one other stood out from the rest. It stood on the side of the others, and she saw a group of three men and one woman depicted on it.
She walked up to the picture and took it in her hands. The woman had flame-red hair tied back in a braid over her shoulder. Although she didn't have the appearance of an elf, she was beautiful. Arya was sure that with just her smile, she could bring any man to his knees. And if it wasn't her smile, then her radiant green eyes.
She knew who it was.
"Is that—?" she asked.
"That's Lily, Harry's mother," Sirius sniffed. He looked over her shoulder, his eyes lost in past memories.
"Who are the others?" Arya asked curiously.
"The one with the scruffy scar is Remus. Harry must have told you he was a werewolf. That's why he always had so many scars on his face," Sirius explained, regaining his composure, and pointed to the next person.
"And this handsome young lad is naturally me," Sirius said with a weak grin.
Thiora rolled her eyes. "You weren't that handsome."
Sirius stared at her offended, but Thiora just winked back.
Arya continued to look at the picture. The last person had hazel eyes and tousled black hair.
His eyes seemed filled with happiness as he wrapped his arms around Lily.
Sirius took the picture from Arya's hands, his hands trembling, and stroked the picture. A tear ran down his cheek. He walked past her and placed the picture back on the vines.
"Sirius—" Arya tried, but he disappeared into the sleeping quarters and closed the door behind him.
Arya turned around with a heavy heart.
"I'm sorry! I didn't mean to—" she started, but Thiora shook her head.
"Sit down, Arya. It's not your fault," Thiora sighed and gestured with her hand to the chair opposite her.
Arya gave the closed door one last fleeting glance and sat down.
"Would you like something to drink?" her aunt asked her.
Arya nodded, her throat now completely dry. "Tea, please."
Thiora got up and took another cup from a cupboard. She took dried nettle leaves from a cloth bag and poured water over them. She used the ancient language and let the water boil.
Arya took the tea and sipped it cautiously. She sighed slightly disappointed as the tea went down her throat. She had become too accustomed to Harry's tea.
Despite the tea, a bad feeling nagged at her inside. "Is Sirius, okay?" Arya asked.
Her aunt rubbed her eyes, a worried expression appearing on her face.
"Since Harry showed up – not that it is his fault - Sirius has been plagued by terrible dreams again. He has been through a lot of pain, and it took him years to free his mind from these nightmares," Thiora said, staring at Arya over her cup.
"I think Sirius and you are very similar in that aspect."
"Who was the last man in the picture?" Arya tried to steer the conversation in a different direction, one she preferred.
Thiora pursed her lips and took the picture from the vines. "That's James. He was Sirius' best friend and he's Harry's father."
Arya looked at the picture again. Upon closer inspection, you could see the similarities between father and son. He was a handsome man, but there were slight differences that she preferred about Harry. For example, Harry's cheekbones were slightly higher, which accentuated his jawline better. There were many other things she could list, but his green eyes were probably what she preferred most about him.
Her ears turned red, and she gently rubbed her hands over her cheeks.
"Everything okay with you?" Thiora asked, smiling.
Arya looked up and opened her mouth, but no sound came out.
Finally, she leaned back against the chair and took another sip of tea.
"I don't know what's wrong with me," she confessed.
Thiora raised an eyebrow. "In what way?"
Arya sighed softly and lowered her gaze to her teacup, which she held with both hands as if seeking support. It also reminded her of what she had read in Harry's book.
"It's hard to explain, Aunt Thiora. I feel somehow... confused."
Thiora looked at her with concern. "Confused about what, dear?"
"Oh, it's just..." Arya hesitated as she tried to find the right words. "It's something new to me. Something I've never felt before."
"Not even with Fäolin?" Thiora repeated softly, her eyes full of compassion fixed on Arya.
Arya's eyes widened, but after a moment of hesitation, she nodded slowly. "No… not even with Fäolin."
Thiora pursed her lips and leaned back in her chair. "Would you like to hear my opinion, Arya?"
"Whether I want to or not, you'll tell me anyway," she grumbled and finished her tea.
Thiora snorted. "You've really spent a lot of time among humans. You have become way too blunt for an elf. Do you remember when you were young?"
"Of course."
"Then you'll also remember how you, Glenwing, and Fäolin spent whatever little time you had together when you were young."
"Nevertheless, it took many years for me to consider them as friends. Less so for Glenwing," Arya nodded, furrowing her brow.
"Glenwing has always been very direct for an elf, whereas Fäolin was very reserved towards me. It took many years, and it wasn't until he accompanied me as an ambassador with Glenwing that we became close friends."
Thiora nodded. "I can tell you why, because I experienced something similar as you did."
"What do you mean?" Arya asked with a frown.
Thiora sighed. "It's not always easy to be the daughter of the queen, you should know that best, Arya. We elves are a people who cannot afford major disputes, so we elves treat each other with care."
Arya frowned. "I know that. Why are you telling me this?"
Thiora smiled. "Because you and I, as daughters of a queen, were treated differently. There were always expectations and responsibilities that weighed heavily on our shoulders. It took me a while to understand that, and I could never really form close friendships. I think you had a similar experience, Arya. Otherwise, you wouldn't have spent so much time with Rhunön before accepting the Yawë."
Arya glared at her aunt. "Maybe. What does that have to do with anything?"
Thiora looked out the window, which offered a view of the surrounding gardens.
"Well, I had given up hope, but then I found it," Thiora said with warm eyes.
Arya tilted her head to the side. "You found what?"
"A good friend," Thiora said, getting up from her seat. She began to pace back and forth.
"Imagine being alone for decades, no one dares to approach you – to get close to you. Your own family is divided," Thiora gave Arya a sharp look. "Do not feel guilty, it is not your responsibility - and you wonder if it's your own fault when suddenly a man appears before you. It was Sirius. He was thin and unconscious, but for a fleeting moment, he opened his eyes, and I got lost in them, and then he said the dumbest thing I had ever heard."
Arya leaned forward. "What did he say?"
Thiora mimicked Sirius and said in a deep voice, "I-I think I stumbled into heaven because I see an angel standing before me."
Arya chuckled, and Thiora shook her head amusedly.
"What happened then?" Arya asked, still grinning.
Thiora sat back down, and a smile played on her lips. "He lost consciousness. I brought him home and nursed him back to health, and it didn't take long for him to tell me about himself and for me to tell him about me. In a few months, we became good friends, and eventually, I fell in love with him."
Something stirred in Arya. It was that feeling again. "So quickly?" she whispered.
Thiora nodded, her eyes gleaming. "It was incredible. A man did something that no elf had been able to do in centuries. Sirius turned my whole world upside down in a few months. In my darkest hours he made me laugh, for which I will always be grateful."
Arya closed her eyes and let the memories of Gil'ead and the dark days there sink in. The icy cold, the unbearable loneliness, and the torments she had suffered there permeated her thoughts. But amid this darkness, a brighter image appeared, pulling her out of despair - Harry, who freed her.
She remembered the moment when Harry appeared in her prison so well that she could describe exactly how his hair was slightly sweaty, his hands gently and carefully released her from the chains, and when he lifted her onto his back, the smell of burnt wood entered her nose. The feeling of hope filled her when he released the chains, and they escaped the dark prison together.
Her body was shaking, and it was as if she could hear her aunt speaking from a distance. It was like a whisper.
"And then he gave me the greatest gift of all."
Slowly, Arya opened her eyes and looked around, her surroundings blurred for a moment as tears glistened in her eyes like tiny crystals.
"Lily," Arya whispered, wiping the tears from her eyes.
Thiora nodded, tears also glistening in her eyes. She got up and hugged Arya tightly. "Arya, whatever you feel, don't suppress it. It's okay to show your feelings, especially in a moment like this."
Arya took a deep breath and forced herself to remain calm. She still didn't know exactly what she was feeling, but she wouldn't build a wall around this feeling.
After a while, Thiora released herself from Arya.
"How are you feeling?" she asked Arya.
Arya weakly smiled. "Better," she murmured.
Thiora nodded satisfactorily. "Good, then you can—"
Suddenly, she heard a loud noise and a loud "Oops!" as another door opened. It was Lily, standing in the doorway with tousled hair and pyjamas.
She yawned loudly and stepped forward. "M-Morning, Muuum," she yawned. She walked past them, and since she wasn't tall enough for the cupboard yet, she grabbed a chair, pushed it in front of the cupboard, and stood on it.
Lily opened the cupboard door, took out a cup, and filled it with water. As she took a big gulp of water, she scratched her belly and then went back to her room.
Arya and Thiora began to laugh. "She is just like her father," Thiora laughed.
"Did she sleep that long?" Arya asked, wiping the tears from her eyes.
Thiora nodded. "It was already hard enough to separate her from the Griffin yesterday... but then to go sleep as well? She was awake all night and just fell asleep this morning."
"Should I take her with me?" Arya asked.
"Are you planning to go to Artemis' and Harry's?"
Upon Arya's nod of agreement, Thiora let out a relieved breath. "That would be wonderful. Thank you."
Arya smiled. "I'd be happy to. Besides, I'd like to get to know Lily better, and what better way than to spend time with her?"
Thiora's eyes sparkled with joy. "That's true, and it allows me to talk to Sirius. When do you want to go to Harry's with her?"
Arya shrugged. "I'm fine to go right away."
Thiora nodded and grinned mischievously. "So, Arya, you're going to visit HARRY right away?"
Arya furrowed her brow, but when she heard loud noises from Lily's room, she realized what her aunt was getting at.
It only took a few seconds before the door was loudly pushed open, causing it to bang loudly against the wall, and Lily stood in the doorway wearing a green dress with her hair combed.
Thiora sighed. "Lily, what did I say about slamming doors?"
"Do it only when no one sees it," Lily said.
Thiora stared at her daughter. "I most certainly did not say that."
Lily scratched her nose thoughtfully. "You're right, Dad said that. Can I come with you to Harry, Aunt Arya?"
Arya nodded and stood up. "I was planning to go now. If you want, you can come with me."
Lily's grey eyes began to sparkle, and she gratefully swung her arms around Arya's hips.
Arya ran her hand through Lily's hair while looking at Thiora. She silently formed the words 'Thank you,' and Thiora winked back in response.
"See you later!" Lily called out and grabbed Arya's hand, pulling her along with her. They disappeared through the door, and then it was quiet.
There was a knock on the door. "Come in," Thiora answered, and Islanzadí entered with Blagden on her shoulder.
"What do you want, Islanzadí?" Thiora asked, gesturing to the chair Arya had just vacated.
The queen sat down, and Blagden hopped onto the table and clicked with his beak. It was too boring for him, apparently, so he flew out through the door.
Thiora raised an expectant eyebrow, and Islanzadí took a deep breath.
"Thank you, Thiora."
Thiora shrugged. "I didn't do it for you."
Islanzadí pursed her lips. "I know, but still, I want to say thank you."
Thiora rolled her eyes. She regarded her for a moment. "Again, you don't have to. Would you like some tea?"
"Yes," Islanzadí sighed. "But I have another reason for coming to see you."
Islanzadí placed a piece of paper on the table. "I would like to hear your opinion on this."
Thiora glanced at her in surprise. She picked up the piece of paper and read the short message that was written on it.
"Ceunon?"
Islanzadí nodded and folded his hands in his lap. Her face was full of worry, but her green eyes seemed full of determination.
"I believe the time has come that we have to prepare for war."
Lámarae – Elven fabric
A/N:I just want to add a few things: Most likely the next chapter will be the last "training/casual life" chapter, but there will be a few things in there that will be important for the future. Chapter 33 will then be a really important chapter.
Finally, I would like to explain why I only showed Eragon's swordplay. Eragon didn't have his injury from Durza and in the chapters after the battle of Farthen Dûr I tried to make him a little more arrogant, which he should be over now.
I haven't shown Harry's fight against Vanir yet, because I didn't want to do two fights in a row, and it will happen soon... but the fight will be different.
I think that's all, I hope you like it and let me know what you think!