Eragon's head was pressed tightly against the table, and a groan resonated from his throat. Glenwing was seated next him, and Eragon knew a smile was on the elf's lips. Orik was not with them, stating that he was busy. That was somewhat surprising, considering the dwarf often complained of being bored in the forest of the elves. It had been over a week since his conversation with Arya, and he had been busy in his research and her training. They had sparred earlier this morning, and he felt some strange tension in the air between them. He hadn't joined her lessons much these past few days, instead letting Saphira go in his stead.
Glenwing had shown up after Arya's training concluded for the day, eager to hear of Eragon's latest plight. The elf had pestered him until he finally broke and told him of their latest interaction. "You're in love," Glenwing sang. The elf chuckled, his hand covering his mouth.
Eragon sighed. "It seems that way." Saphira was out hunting with Fírnen today, though she had already teased him endlessly about his plight. He could also sense a hint of apprehension in her, buried underneath her mirth.
"At least you admit it to yourself." Glenwing said. "For weeks I have been in agony over the two of you."
Eragon laughed, raising his head off the table. "Oh? You seem heavily vested in my personal affairs."
The elf shrugged. "I simply want my two friends to be happy. Is that so much to ask for?"
Eragon shook his head, grabbing the goblet filled with Faelnirv on the table. He was only sipping the elven wine, using it to settle his nerves. He took a brief sip, letting the flavor settle over his tongue before he spoke. "No, I suppose not. But I do not know what to do. I do not want to push her, not so soon after…"
Glenwing nodded slightly, his eyes moving away from Eragon. "It's not as complicated as you might think," the elf said softly. "Let Arya work through her own feelings. She may be considered young among our kind, but she knows how such emotions eb and flow. Even for elves."
"So, you think I should let her lead," Eragon surmised. "If I was interested in pursuing this."
The elf smiled and the white of his teeth was only visible for a moment. "If you were interested as such, then yes."
Eragon nodded his head, taking a sip of the goblet again. "Though," Glenwing continued, "I would advise maybe letting her know how you feel. Tell her the truth, and let her decide what to do. Just don't be an idiot about it."
If Saphira were here, she would have commented how he was always bumbling over the elf.
The two of them were silent for a few minutes until they were interrupted by said dragon, who had entered through the hole in the tree. She greeted to two of them, laying down on her dais as she began to clean her claws. They asked after her hunt, and she briefly showed Eragon her bloodied teeth as an answer.
Glenwing blanched at the evidence of her kill, but Eragon merely smiled at her. As she started on her other claw, Saphira said, there is an elf who was approaching the tree when I flew in.
Eragon frowned, glancing at the fading light of the sun. It was later in the day, and he was unaware of anything that he might be summoned for late in the night. "Who was it?"
He told me his name, Saphira dismissed, but I did not pay attention.
Eragon hummed lightly under his breath, used to Saphira's occasional distaste for proper etiquette. "Do you remember what he wanted, at least?"
I do, Saphira drawled. She continued her cleaning, her attention focused on her claws. He said that Queen Islanzadí has received a reply from the elf woman in Osilon. Arya is to take us to her and introduce us tomorrow. Oromis has apparently already cleared Arya from her training.
Eragon drummed his fingers lightly on the table, watching as Glenwing smirked at him. "Thank you for delivering his message, Saphira."
The dragon sniffed, though he felt her gratitude at his acknowledgement. This matter concerns the both of us, so it was of no consequence.
"You just wanted him to praise your beauty and magnificence to your face," Glenwing chortled.
I am magnificent, Saphira affirmed, aren't I?
They both agreed with the dragon, the two men smiling as she hummed lightly. Saphira's rumble shook the tree slightly, but neither said a word as the dragon finished cleaning herself. Glenwing turned to Eragon, his smirk still firmly in place.
"Well," Glenwing began, "What perfect timing you've found for yourself."
Eragon ran his hand through his hair, his heart skipping in his chest. The thought of admitting to Arya his feelings was nerve racking, and he had to stop his mind from racing through her probable reactions at his words. Clearing his throat, Eragon said, "I will tell her only when I think it's right."
"Hmm." The elf hummed. "Don't screw this up, will you?"
He will bumble his way through this as he does everything else, Saphira intoned. And somehow still manage to get the results he wants.
Glenwing laughed heartily, his hand slapping the table with his elation. Eragon merely placed his head back against the table, letting out another groan as he went. He knew she would comment as such.
In the morning, Eragon and Saphira waited outside their tree home for Arya. Fírnen approached, and Eragon was surprised to find Arya alighted in the saddle atop the green dragon. He smiled at her as she approached, and he felt Saphira wriggle with excitement beside him.
"Your first flight together?" Eragon asked. Fírnen stopped before them, the two dragons sniffing each other in greeting.
The elf shook her head, and he saw that her lips curved softly into a smile. "No, we flew together for the first time yesterday. It was a most joyous occasion."
Eragon nodded, his hand stroking Saphira's side as he recalled his own first flight. "I am sad then that I missed it." Turning to Fírnen, Eragon asked, "Are you ready for the journey?"
The dragon snorted, his mind pressing into Eragon's to respond. I am. This will be the furthest Arya and I have flown together.
He smiled at the dragon, before jumping up Saphira's foreleg and settling into her saddle. "Then let us not waste any more time and head off."
Saphira roared and Fírnen followed suit, both of the dragon's spreading their wings as they prepared for flight. Saphira took off first, the power of her legs launching them into the air. Her wings beat steadily as she rose into the sky, and he turned his head to watch as Fírnen followed. The green dragon was nearing two months of age, old enough now for him to carry Arya, though not for long distances. He was growing quicker than Eragon expected, but it would be months before he was able to breath fire.
Saphira turned them towards Osilon, while Eragon casted his mind out towards Arya and Fírnen. They both granted him entrance after a moment, and he could feel in their minds the joy at flying with each other. Fírnen was focusing heavily on his flight, but he knew the dragon could still hear his words. Who are we to meet with in Osilon? Eragon asked.
Arya took a few seconds to respond, her mind distracted. A woman named Ílyae, Guardian of the Spirits. She's of House Rílvenar, the same as Lifaen who escorted us to Ellesméra.
Guardian of the Spirits? Eragon thought to himself. A strange title, and he briefly wondered how the elf had gained it. Responding to Arya, he instead asked, have you met her before?
No, Arya answered. My mother has before, and asked for me to introduce you. I will also be asking after Lord Fiolr of House Valtharos before we depart Osilon. He is in possession of one of the few remaining Rider blades in Du Weldenvarden, and is currently visiting Osilon to review their crop yields.
The name ringed a bell in Eragon's mind, though he could not place where he had heard it before. He knew of House Valtharos of course, though its connection to the blade was lost on him. Sensing his curiosity, Arya continued, The sword is Támerlein, which used to belong to Arva. He was killed in Ilirea by Kialandí, and Arva gave his sister Naudra the sword to defend herself. She made it back to Du Weldenvarden before succumbing to her wounds, and the sword now lays in the care of Lord Fiolr, her mate.
Eragon felt a wave of sadness wash over him. Kialandí killed Arva?
Fírnen was flying beside them now, and when he glanced over to them he could see Arya watching him. You knew them?
Aye, Eragon whispered into her mind. I knew Kialandí was of The Forsworn, but I did not know he killed Arva. I met both of them before, though I suppose we were hardly called friends. Arva was always kind to me, even after the events of Belatona.
In the distance between them, he could see Arya frown briefly. How well did you know Kialandí?
He shook his head, knowing that she could see the motion even as the dragons flew over the forest. Not well. He was always of a cold disposition to anyone besides Formora, but never seemed particularly arrogant. When Oromis told me that the twins betrayed Glaedr and him I was honestly shocked.
Oath-breakers. Saphira hissed bellow him. He could feel Fírnen's agreement flow through their connected minds.
Turning the conversation away, Eragon asked, Will Lord Fiolr part with Támerlein?
Maybe, Arya remarked. If I can press the need of the sword, then perhaps he will let me borrow it. If you knew Arva, then I ask your help in convincing the Lord of my need.
Of course, Eragon granted. I'm more than willing to help you in this endeavor.
Arya's mind swirled, the music of her mind shifting oddly. Before he could sense her emotions, she closed her mind. Fírnen interjected then, and he could sense that the dragon was amused. We thank you for your assistance.
He could feel the greens dragon exhaustion growing, though he knew they wouldn't be flying for too much longer before they reached Osilon. Eragon withdrew his mind from the pair, instead watching as the trees of Du Weldenvarden flew swiftly by underneath them. They stopped only briefly for Fírnen to rest, the dragon panting with the effort of keeping up with Saphira.
Saphira had channeled some energy into the young male before they continued, and it was nearing mid-day when they finally came upon the city. Osilon, Eragon knew, was the elves main agricultural city. Most of the food flowed out towards the other various towns and cities of Du Weldenvarden, and many of the elves that lived in the city's borders dedicated themselves to tending to the crops.
Saphira landed in one of the few open areas surrounding the city that did was not used for growing food, Fírnen's own approach much less graceful. Arya jumped off the dragon's back, stroking his snout lightly as she spoke to him. He did not catch her words, instead unstrapping his legs from his own saddle.
When he was finally on the ground, Arya had finished conversing with Fírnen and approached him. She inclined her head towards the city, and he turned to find elves slowly approaching them from the surrounding trees. They greeted the Riders, bowing deeply to the dragons as they led them into the city. Arya spoke lightly with a few of the elves, telling them of their appointment with Ílyae.
One of the elves answered her, the man-elf bowing deeply to Arya. He was dressed in a red tunic that was lined with violet stitching, his voice reminding Eragon of a bubbling creak. "Lord Fiolr was expecting your arrival, Shur'tugalar. He is currently busy dealing with matters of the state, but he bids you welcome to the city. The Lord will speak with you once you have concluded your meeting with Lady Ílyae."
Arya nodded to the elf, who then motioned for the rest of the elves to leave them. The group did so, but not before bestowing their praises upon the two dragons. He could feel Saphira's satisfaction at their words, and he tried to fight off the smile that was trying to rise on his face. The elf -Eragon still didn't know his name- looked puzzled at his expression, but instead bowed to the Riders. "Do you require an escort to the Guardians home, Arya Dröttningu, and Eragon Shadeslayer?"
"Nay," Arya answered. "My mother has told me the way. We thank you for your welcome and your assistance."
The elf inclined his head, turning to follow the others. Eragon frowned briefly as the elf left, somewhat still curious to the elf's name. Casting the matter aside, Eragon strode forward as Arya led the way into the city. Arya led them down a path towards the center of Osilon before turning right at the junction. His gaze roamed over the city around him, taking in the elves as they tended to their crops. He could see elves picking fruit from various vine plants, and many others were tending to the earth to seed new ones.
Arya approached a large tree home on the outskirts of the city, the tree nearly dwarfing Vrael's tree that Eragon now called home. The two dragons settled around the tree house, their forms no doubt visible to the rest of the city's inhabitants. The outside of the tree was otherwise nondescript as any other of the elven dwellings, though when they journeyed up the stairs Eragon could make out various runes that were sung into the bark of the tree. He did not know their purpose, and Arya did not pay them any mind as she knocked lightly on the entrance.
An elf woman opened the door, and the first thing Eragon noted was the startlingly bright purple irises that peered out at them. Her hair was blonde, though closer in shade to silver than gold. It was held up behind her head, and Eragon was surprised to find light wrinkles adorning the elf woman's face. She scowled at them, her eyes roaming over the pair standing outside the tree home.
Arya bowed to the elf, and Eragon followed suit. Surprisingly, Arya did not begin the traditional elven greeting, instead saying, "Lady Ílyae, I am Arya Dröttningu, and this is Eragon Shadeslayer. My mother has spoken highly of you, and I am glad to finally make your acquaintance."
Ílyae's face brightened suddenly, the smile stretching wide on her face. Her sudden change in emotions surprised Eragon, and he watched as the elf reached out to grab Arya's arm. He watched Arya's eyes widen at the movement, but she did not resist as Ílyae pulled her into the home. Eragon followed behind them, closing the door softly as he entered.
The elf was examining Arya critically, and he could see that it was making Arya slightly uncomfortable. He placed his hand on Arya's shoulder, watching as the elf jumped lightly at the contact. Ílyae's eyes fixed on his hand for a moment before she turned towards him. She examined him in the same fashion, her violet eyes flickering between the pair in front of her.
"I see now that the spirits were right about the two of you," Ílyae stated. Her eyes fell to Brisingr on his hip, her face flashing. She did not comment about his blade, but her eyes every once in a while would alight on the sword. "A match made indeed."
He did not know if she was commenting on his blade, or him being with Arya. Either way, a shiver bore up his spine at her words.
Arya stiffened beside him, and Eragon let his hand fall from her shoulder. "Lady Ílyae, we are here to discuss the matter my mother wrote to you about," Arya stated.
The elf turned away, walking further into her home. Eragon finally took stock of his surroundings, watching the elf as she approached the large table that was set against the far wall of the entrance room. Books were stacked high on the table, and Eragon could see pieces of parchment that the elves used to converse scattered across the remaining space. To both the left and right of the table were hallways, each leading deeper into the tree home.
Ílyae searched quickly through the parchments, pulling one from under the rest. She read the Queen's missive quickly, her eyes occasionally glancing at them. When she was done, a frown slowly appeared on her face. "What you seek, Shur'tugal, is something that few enough would know of. Danger and death lie heavily on the path you wish to take."
"Will you help us?" Eragon finally asked. "Our need is great. You may be the only one who holds the knowledge I- we seek." He saw Arya's glance at his correction, but the elf did not comment on it.
"Maybe." Ílyae said. When Eragon frowned, the elf strode forward towards him. "Spirits are dangerous, Shadeslayer, as you would no doubt know."
"I do know," Eragon said quietly.
The elf said nothing to his remark, her eyes still flicking between the two of them. It was starting to make even Eragon uncomfortable, and Arya seemed to lean closer to him. The motion did not escape Ílyae, a small smirk appearing on the woman's face.
Arya interjected into the conversation, her words forced, "You know much of spirits, Ílyae-elda. Queen Islanzadí said that you have been studying them for centuries."
Ílyae frowned, her gaze locking on Arya. "I have. Longer than most elves have lived, I have looked towards the spirits for answers that none would know to ask."
"If you do not mind me asking, Ílyae, how do you study them? Do you summon them as a sorcerer would?" Eragon questioned.
The elf scowled at him, "I would never force a spirit to do my bidding. Such practices are vile, and you would do well not to mention them again in my presence."
"I meant no offense," Eragon stated. He tried to keep his tone level, "The only knowledge I know of spirits is what the Riders have taught me, and my own experiences with the Shades."
"An education that was sorely lacking, no doubt." Ílyae remarked coldly. "Spirits are free to roam Alagaësia, and have existed longer than any other creature can think to claim."
"If you find my education on such things deficient," Eragon said, "then please enlighten us to the truth. I only seek to free those who would be bound into a Shade."
The elf seemed to shiver at the word, her posture tightening in discomfort. "The spirits that answer such summons are wicked, and are considered abominations to even the other spirits. That you have already ended two such creatures is the only reason why I was willing to speak to you, Rider."
Eragon was silent, and Ílyae continued after a moment. "When a spirit is bound to a host, it merges with them to become of Shade. The process is irreversible. Only in death of the host is the spirit finally released."
Arya's eyebrows fell in disappointment. "Is there no way to stop the process then?"
Ílyae nodded her head slightly. "Of course. Interrupt the magic before the spirit is fully bound, and the host may yet survive. So long as the mind remains whole, the host should live."
"What if," Eragon asked quietly, "If the hosts mind was separate from the body? If the Shade inhabited the body, but the mind fled before they could merge?"
Both Arya and Ílyae frowned at him, their eyes searching.
"I know not of a way to separate the mind as such," Ílyae said reluctantly. "Even if I did, I would not tell you."
"I'm not asking if it's possible to separate the mind from the body," Eragon clarified. He tried to find a way to explain the Eldunarí without giving the knowledge away, but he did not wish to even mention the dragons in their conversation. "Suppose for an instance that it is possible, and the process has already been completed before the Shade is fully formed. Would it still be possible to remove the spirit from the hosts body without destroying it?"
"A body living without the mind?" The elf spat, "Such a thing would be a cruel existence, something that I would not wish on even my worst enemies."
"Is it possible, though?" Eragon pressed. He was beginning to get frustrated, and he knew his voice was beginning to show it. Arya was watching him carefully, and Eragon wished he could explain everything to her, but the Eldunarí was not his secret to share.
"Before I tell you," Ílyae announced, "you must instead answer my own inquiry."
Eragon glanced at Arya, who only inclined her head in response. "Fine."
"Two questions, Shadeslayer." Ílyae began. "The first, what will you do with such knowledge?"
"Stop those who would create a Shade," Eragon answered slowly.
"The next question is a clarification, Shur'tugal, not the second," Ílyae informed him. At his nod, she asked, "Do you intend to create a Shade yourself, or in any way harm a spirit?"
Eragon shook his head, disgust filling him. "No. I would never want to make Shade, nor could I think of any reason to do so. And I do not wish to harm a spirit, but I will do what I must to save those I care for."
Ílyae nodded her head, seeming to accept his answers. "My second: You and the princess here are close. What is between you two?"
Eragon stiffened at the words, his eyes briefly flashing over to Arya. The elf seemed to have paled, frozen in place.
"That is none of your business, Ílyae." Arya stated firmly. He could barely see her lips move as she spoke, and Eragon could feel the chill emanated off of her.
Eragon swallowed lightly. "Why would my personal relations concern you? From all that I have briefly heard of you, I would assume you would be more interested in spirits than the affairs of one such as myself."
Ílyae raised her eyebrow at him. She spoke slowly, and Eragon fought off the agitation of being spoke to like a child. "The spirits are the ones who are interested in you, Shadeslayer. That you have freed two Shade's from their chains has made many of them curious of you."
Eragon's brows furrowed. "The spirits are interested in me and Arya?"
"No," the elf answered. "They wish to know who you are, and what drives you. No one has done what you have for them, and it is the first time I have ever found them curious as to the affairs of other races."
"How do you know this?" Arya asked. She was still stiff, though color was slowly returning to her features.
"The spirits are long since familiar with me," Ílyae explained. A smile graced her face, as though she was recalling a rather joyous occasion. "There are many who meet with me when they wish, sharing tales of their journey across the land. They do not speak as we do, but their intentions and thoughts are easy enough to understand to one who knows how to listen."
She turned to Eragon. "You have yet to answer my question, Shadeslayer."
"Arya and I are friends," Eragon said softly. "We are also Riders and have fought together for the Varden. I do not know what else there is to say."
What was with people and questioning him about his intentions with Arya? He knew how he felt about her, but he was not willing to admit it to a near stranger that he had just met. If he were to reveal how he felt, Eragon would ensure that only Arya was the one to know. Besides Glenwing. Eragon thought. He already knows.
Ílyae studied him for a long while, and in the sudden silence he could feel himself grow uncomfortable once more. The elf woman was strange, not seeming to mind that she did not act like many of her kin. They spoke in the ancient language the whole time, so his words about Arya were the truth, even if they did not convey all that was between them.
Ílyae turned towards the left hallway suddenly, disappearing down the corridor and into one of the doors. Blinking, Eragon turned to look at Arya. She seemed just as perplexed as he was, though he saw that her posture was still stiff beside him. Arya shrugged at him, and Eragon smiled briefly at her.
He was relieved to see her return his smile. They both looked away when the door Ílyae entered opened once more, revealing the elf carrying two books and a scrap of parchment in her hand. All three objects looked old, the spines of the books showing their age and frequent use. The elf returned to them and handed them over to Eragon, who took them lightly in his hands. The books were unmarked, with no title or any writing to reveal their contents. The parchment held only a few lines in the ancient language on it, but before he could read it Ílyae interrupted him.
"There is a spell you could use." Ílyae said quietly. The words seemed to pain her, and she turned her gaze away from the pair. "It is something I theorized could work. I have never attempted it myself, nor do I ever intend to."
"What does it do?" Arya asked. She glanced at the books in Eragon's hand, but even she seemed not to know what they were.
"It was something I created when I was younger," Ílyae revealed. "When I first started studying spirits, I had an encounter with one of the more malicious ones that exist."
Her voice trailed off for a moment before she continued. "The spell will drive away any spirit in the area forcefully. I could never bring myself to use it, but from my experiments in developing it I do know that it will require a tremendous amount of energy. That parchment," Ílyae gestured to the paper he held, "is the only copy of the spell to exist. Swear to me that you will reveal it to no one, Shur'tugalar."
"We swear," Arya and Eragon said in unison.
Ílyae nodded, her face stricken. "I ask you to only use the spell as a last resort, Shadeslayer. I do not know what it will do to a spirit, and I do not wish any harm to come to such magnificent beings."
"And these books?" Eragon inquired.
"They hold everything I know of Shades," Ílyae answered. "Some of it you will be aware of, but much of the knowledge contained in those volumes has been lost to the ages since humans first learned how to bend spirits to their will."
"Why give us this, Ílyae-elda?" Arya asked quietly.
"The spirits told me much of you two," was all Ílyae answered.
Eragon wasn't sure that was the full reason she decided to help them, but Eragon did not press the matter. "Thank you then, Ílyae, for your help in this matter. I hope to never have need for such a spell, and you have my promise that I will be judicious in my application of it."
The elf inclined her head. "Go, the two of you. I'm sure there are other places you must be, and I find myself tired of such heavy conversation."
"Before we go," Eragon said, "I need to ask: May I share this knowledge with the Mourning Sage?"
The elf considered him for a moment, her eyes darting from the scrap of parchment to him. "You may," Ílyae said softly.
Arya and Eragon bid their farewells to the elf, and Eragon told Ílyae that he would have the books and parchment returned to her once he had read them. The elf said nothing more, merely waving them towards the door. They descended the stairs and rejoined the dragons, who were curious as to the conversation they had with the elf woman.
Eragon showed Saphira the memory as Arya led them back towards the city. She was interested in the elf, especially when she stated that the spirits were curious of Eragon.
It seems another of the races of Alagaësia is interested in you now, little-one. Saphira remarked.
I don't know whether to be worried or not. Do you think they will aid us against Galbatorix?
Saphira snorted, I wouldn't count on it. Spirits have always remained apart, and I do not see them changing. Gratitude at your help does not ensure us their aid.
True enough.
Lord Fiolr was waiting for them in the center of the city, carrying a wand of white wood in his hands. A pearl was mounted on top of the wand, and Eragon noticed glyphs carved into the side of the wood. The elf lord was alone, and Eragon studied his face as they approached. Lord Fiolr's face was more angular than the average elf's, his face stern in appearance. The elf bowed to Arya, Eragon, and the dragons, exchanging the traditional greetings of the elves.
The elf turned towards Arya, his face seemingly fighting off a frown. "I know what you ask for, Arya Dröttningu. Támerlein is currently housed in my home, though I already know you have seen the blade. Do you agree to our conditions surrounding the blade?"
Arya's face remained impassive as she said, "The blade needs to be reworked for my use, Lord Fiolr."
The elf stiffened. "Támerlein is my most treasured possession, Dröttningu. I may not be worthy of wielding the blade, but I would be remised to see its form changed from its original beauty."
When Arya glanced at Eragon he finally interjected into the conversation. "I knew Arva, Lord Fiolr."
The lord's eyes fell upon Eragon, his face still set. "I did not know that Eragon-vodhr. Forgive me, but he never spoke of you."
"I would not have expected him to," Eragon explained. "I only tell you this so that you may be assured we understand your grief."
"Támerlein is a Rider's blade," Arya said quietly. "Such a weapon should be used to ensure the elves never again know the pain we endured during the Fall."
The elf sighed lightly. Fiolr contemplated the matter for some time, and neither Eragon nor Arya said anything. "You have devoted your life to serving our kind, Arya Dröttningu. If there is any among us who would be worthy of such a blade, I can think of no one better."
"Thank you Lord Fiolr." Arya said. She bowed slightly, and the Lord returned her gesture.
"I ask that you take care of Támerlein to the best of your ability. And should the day come that you no longer need the blade, I would have you return it to House Valtharos," Lord Fiolr pleaded. Arya swore that she would, and the elf nodded lightly. He still did not seem pleased to give up the blade, his face drawn in.
"Then I shall deliver Támerlein myself to Rhunön when I return to Ellesméra," Fiolr stated, before bowing softly as he left.
That was easier than I thought it would be, Eragon said to Saphira.
She snorted lightly, but did not comment.
"Will Rhunön be able to work on the blade?" Eragon asked Arya after the lord was far enough away.
Arya frowned, "I will need to speak with and convince her of my need."
Eragon smiled lightly. If there was anyone who could talk Rhunön into working again on a Rider blade, it would be Arya.
They returned to Ellesméra after eating a light lunch, and Eragon suspected that Fírnen was eager to rest for the remainder of the day. Such a flight was easy for Saphira, but Fírnen was still young and needed time to gain his strength. When they landed, Eragon conversed silently with Saphira. The dragon snorted at him, but agreed to give him the privacy he asked for.
Arya was already climbing down from Fírnen, the dragon stretching his wings and back as she departed. She turned at his approached, her eyebrows raising as he closed the distance. "Is there something wrong?" she asked.
Shaking his head, Eragon instead asked, "I was wondering if perhaps you would be willing to speak with me privately for a minute."
Arya's furrowed her brow, turning to Fírnen. The dragon looked at Eragon as they conversed, his amber eye peering at the Rider. Their conversation was quick, and the green dragon began to follow Saphira as she left the clearing they landed in. Arya stood there silently, watching him with her emerald eyes.
He could feel his heart pounding in his chest, and he had to fight the sudden nervousness that was rising inside him. They were near his tree home, but Eragon did not want to make Arya uncomfortable after he said what he wanted to. Instead, Eragon warded their conversation from being overhead. Arya frowned at him, worry prominent in her face.
"There is something I need to tell you, Arya," Eragon said softly.
Her brows seemed to furrow further, and Eragon marveled that she could do such a thing. She glanced around at their surroundings briefly before asking, "What is it, Eragon?"
Eragon swallowed. "Before I speak, I want you to know that it will change nothing between us. However you wish to proceed will entirely be up to you, and that I do not expect anything at all from you."
"You're worrying me," Arya stated. Her eyes were locked onto his own, and she closed the distance between them. His heart pounded as she stood close to him, and the fresh scent of pine needles washed over his nose.
The nervousness that he felt earlier rose tremendously, and he forced it back down. Taking a breath, Eragon said, "For a long time now, I suspected something. Now, I know it is true. Ever since I met you I knew you were unlike any I have met before. I have to tell you this, because letting it fester inside is killing me."
Arya said nothing. Her face flashed with emotions, too quick for him to pick out.
"My feelings for you," Eragon said quietly, "Extend far beyond mere friendship. I believe that you are the wisest woman I have ever met, and I find myself drawn to you in every way. Every day I find myself wanting to see you smile, if only because I can truly know that in that moment you were happy. I see you, Arya, and I am fascinated and in awe of all that you are."
Arya's eyes, which had been narrowed in worry, were now wide with surprise. Her mouth was slightly open, and Eragon thought he heard her breath catch. She made no move, her still form casting a shadow in front of him as the sun continued on its afternoon journey. The trees rustled gently around them, the only movement in the stillness between them.
When she did not speak still, Eragon continued. "These feelings are growing inside me, Arya. I know them well, and I need you to understand that if you wish it will change nothing between us. We can carry on as if I have never said anything, and you will have my word that it will end here."
She was studying his features, reminding him oddly of Ílyae back in Osilon. Eragon remained as still as he could, feeling as if the slightest motion might frighten Arya away from him. The silence was beginning to mount between them, and he fought down his normal urge to jest.
When she said nothing for nearly a whole minute, Eragon felt a cold sensation rush over his body. Making sure she did not see him shiver, Eragon bowed to Arya. "Arya Svit-kona, I give you my word-."
Arya's hand clamped over his mouth, surprising him. He rose from his slight bow, but Arya did not release him, her hand following as he straightened. His lips tingled from the contact, her touch warming the cold that had spread inside him.
"No." Arya told him, shaking her head slowly. Her hand slipped softly from his lips, and he fought down the urge to grasp her fingers. Arya was quiet again, her gaze still intent on him. His eyes narrowed in his confusion, but Arya gave nothing away. For a moment, their gazes where locked together, and he worried his heart would pound right out of his chest from the tension that was rising. He could see a faint flush rising up her neck, the color drawing his eyes briefly.
Eventually deciding that his best course of action was to give her time, Eragon spoke softly. "Until later then, Arya."
He was unsurprised to find Glenwing already waiting for his return, the elf simply handing him a wineskin. A sniff revealed the contents to be Faelnirv, and Eragon took a deep pull of the elven drink. The elf followed suit, for once not saying anything to Eragon.
Saphira was surprisingly unsaddled already, curled up on the dais that was her resting space. She was both watching him with her eyes and examining his memories, but even she said nothing as Eragon sat down at his table.
"Thank you," Eragon said. "Both for the drink and for helping Saphira with her saddle."
"It is of no consequence," Glenwing shrugged. "When Saphira told me what you were doing, well I figured you might be a while, and she did look uncomfortable lying there with it on."
Saphira snorted, a plume of smoke rising from her nostrils. About as uncomfortable as you would be, elf, if I put a leather harness on you.
"Well," Glenwing said, placing a hand against his chest lightly, "I did not know you were into those kinds of things, Saphira. Does Eragon know you like your partners wearing such garment?"
Eragon laughed loudly, wiping his eyes as they filled with tears. Saphira's tail lashed against the inside wall of the tree house, the impact shaking the table he was leaning on.
Be careful little elf, Saphira uttered, her lips rising to reveal pearly white teeth in a cruel smile, or I may decide to eat another elf.
Glenwing nearly dropped his wineskin, the smile on his face vanishing quickly. "Another elf?" He turned to Eragon, horror spreading across his face. "Are you telling me she ate an elf? Who?"
Eragon was still trying to get himself under control, his belly tight from laughter. He waved at the elf, unable to catch his breath to speak.
Glenwing faced Saphira, his face dropping as she continued to grin at him. "Please tell me it wasn't Arya. I don't think my heart could take my favorite couple being denied to me."
Sputtering, Eragon said, "It's not Arya! I just spoke with her."
The elf blinked lightly, his eyes aligning back on Eragon. "Oh, right." He took a breath, seeming to forget that Saphira was threatening to eat him. "How'd that go?"
His laughter drained out of him as he recalled his talked with Arya. Even Saphira settled down, her ire seemingly forgotten. He knew the two of them were mostly jesting with each other, and he was glad that the elf was willing to be so affable with her. His thoughts drifted back to Arya, and he saw that Glenwing was still waiting for him to answer.
He told the elf what all of what had transpired. For a while, the elf was silent as he thought, one of his fingers tapping his chin lightly. Eragon continued to drink the Faelnirv, though he only sipped at the wine now. He did not want to get drunk, unwilling to bury his feelings deep inside of himself.
"No response from Arya is sometimes better than any response," Glenwing offered. When Eragon raised his eyebrow at him, the elf raised his hands to placate the Rider. "I've seen her reject advances before from others. Arya is either exceedingly kind to those who are polite, or she somehow ends up drawing blood. That she was stunned by your words is…"
"Surprising?" Eragon stated. His thumb stroked the neck of the wineskin, his eyes following his movements. Quietly, he asked the elf, "Did she not know how I felt?"
"If she did, she never told me," Glenwing replied. The elf took a sip of his own wineskin before continuing, "Despite what I have said, I doubt many actually know how you feel for her. You are unreadable to most, Eragon. They don't think you rude or a brute, merely that you like to keep to yourself. I only know how you feel because of how much time I've spent with you, both with Arya and without."
"I told her I'd give her time," Eragon mentioned. "Perhaps that is all she needs."
"And if she doesn't return your feelings?" Glenwing asked quietly. The words struck at him, digging deep into his mind. If Arya did not return his feelings, he would continue on as he always did. If there was one thing he learned in his two hundred years away, it was how to survive.
"Then nothing." Eragon said. "Nothing will change."
"I think you might find," Glenwing informed him, "That everything has changed."