The elves divided themselves into smaller groups, each with their own tables and festivities. A group had begun to sing, the melody enchanting Eragon until he remembered to cast a few spells so that it would not incapacitate him. Arya dragged him by the arm, and for a while Eragon lost himself in the laughter and joy of the elves.
The fever of the Agaetí Blödhren was something he nearly thought he'd forgotten. Saphira was partaking large amounts of Faelnirv, the elves watching apt as she drained barrels of the substance. He remembered Arya introducing him to various elves, but their names slipped away in the fog that was beginning to roll across his mind. He fought off the effects, but the magic in the air made even Arya muddled, her smile frenzied.
An elf-maid pulled him into an opening as the music swelled, spinning them in circles as she laughed merrily. He could scarcely recall how suddenly Arya appeared in his arms, a strong smile present on her face as they moved together.
Time was immaterial, patches of clarity flowing in and out as though a great beast was breathing through the celebration. Elves were perched on the branches of the Menoa Tree, casting down riddles to the dragons. Fírnen was swaying heavily from the magic, and Eragon remembered Arya's worried gaze as they cast spells to help the dragon.
Glaedr's humming was perhaps the loudest, the elves music matching his pitch with their harps and flutes. Saphira joined in, and he could feel from her the effects of the Faelnirv tinging his own mind.
Elves presented various wonders, and he marveled at the creativity of such an old race. Puzzles, toys, weapons, and art filled the available space, some more beautiful and strange than anything Eragon could ever remember seeing. He was not as affected as he was the last time he attended the celebration, the magic's grip not as strong on him now that he was older. But even so, the power of the elves swayed him, pulling heavily at his consciousness.
Orik eventually presented a tiered pyramid eight inches high, constructed of various interlocking pieces. The elves were overjoyed, calling upon him to disassemble and reassemble the structure as much as he would allow. They called him "Master Longbeard," and he saw a smile bloom on the dwarf's face.
Once, when he lost track of time, Eragon remembered Oromis having a seizure. The elf was pressed heavily against a tree, and he could see in the distance the worry that rose in Glaedr's face from where he was. Saphira had covered the old elf with her frame, and once it had passed Oromis had thanked Saphira heavily.
Various elves presented themselves, some as strange and unrecognizable as any Eragon had seen. Gills and scales adorned a few, and he even spotted a few covered in a thin-like fur. Glenwing was dancing with an elf, her features bright as she laughed in his arms. Eragon remembered pulling Arya to his side, pointing out the pair to her delight. The smirk that appeared on her face made something bloom in his chest, and he was glad when another elf refilled his goblet with a strange liquid.
The drink seemed to make the very world tilt on its side, and he was entranced by the colors and waves that washed over his vision. He shared the drink with Arya, her features shifting in the werelights under the Menoa tree. The sound of her laughter and merriment buried itself deep into his memory, and he knew he would cherish these moments with her for as long as he lived.
It was the third day when he was finally able to present his work to the elves. Eragon had draped a cloth over the statue, arranging it so that its features where unable to be discerned. He was standing before the elves, the laughter and music dying as they watched him with rapt attention.
"It has been two hundred years since the last ceremony I attended," Eragon announced. "Last time, I presented a truth of my own experiences and life, bent through the lenses of a story. Now, I give to you something that we have lost, worked by my own hands and memories."
He pulled the cloth, revealing Umaroth and Vrael to the elves. The white scales shinned brightly on the wooden statue, painted with a gloss that made them reflect light in nearly the same way as scales. Vrael was sitting grandly in the saddle, his white sword matching the scales of Umaroth below. Gasps rang out around the elves, and he could see even Oromis's shock. Glaedr inspected the figures, his golden eyes turning to Eragon. A fine masterpiece, Eragon-vor.
Oromis was silent, though he did nod his agreement. He could spot Arya gazing at the statue, her face flashing with amazement and grief for what was taken from them.
Islanzadí held up a pale hand. "Your work, as always Eragon, is breathtaking. That you would create something with your own hands shows the skill and dedication that you hold. This statue will be placed in Tialdarí hall, to show all who visit the beauty of those who came before."
Eragon bowed, though he did not move his statue just yet. Saphira had left the clearing to gather her own gift, returning with a large stone clutched in her hands. She landed next to his statue, using her forelegs to place the stone upright. It was near the same height as his own statue, and he recognized the features at once.
Evandar, in startling detail, was standing with a large smile on his face. He was garbed in fine robes, the stonework great enough that even Orik seemed impressed. Islanzadí and Arya gasped loudly, and he watched as tears filled the Queens eyes.
She approached the stone figure of her late mate, her fingers trailing over his face as she took in his features. "How did you do thing, Saphira?"
I carved the stone from the mountain with my talons, and used magic to change it into his likeness.
Arya seemed frozen where she was standing, her eyes wide.
Islanzadí turned to Saphira, her words low so that only her and Eragon could hear. "It is beautiful, Saphira. Thank you."
Was it hard to get the magic to work for you? Eragon asked.
Yes.
Smiling, Eragon listened as elves clapped and called out in wonderment. Their praises drowned out everything else, and Eragon placed a hand on her side as she hummed.
Glaedr eventually presented his offering after his and Saphira's were moved aside. The dragon had carved an exact likeness of Ellesméra into a slab of red oak. It was a beautiful piece, and Eragon gaped at the intricacies that were carved by Glaedr's large talon. Oromis presented one of his painted scrolls, the landscape upon it more beautiful and finer than Eragon had ever seen the elf paint before.
Arya's own contribution was a Fairth of Glaedr, Saphira and Fírnen caught mid-flight. It was quite large, showing the beauty of the dragons against the blue of the sky. Eragon missed Fírnen's offering, finally able to catch up with Glenwing.
The elf was smiling after the elf woman he was dancing with earlier. She was currently locked in conversation with an elf whose body was transformed into that of a forest cat, the blue fur drawing Eragon's eye for a moment. He nudged Glenwing lightly, inclining his head. "Is that Yaela?"
Glenwing glared at him, but nodded his head. "Aye, Tis her."
Chuckling, Eragon said, "So? Anything you wish to share?"
The elf sighed, taking a sip out of the goblet he was holding. "I know how you feel now."
Tilting his head, Eragon frowned slightly. "I don't mean to upset you, my friend."
"It's not that," Glenwing explained. Whatever Fírnen's offering, the elves must have liked it for a cheer rang out loudly as music picked up once more. Talking over the melody, Glenwing continued, "I have been speaking with her for a while. But you know how we elves are."
"Hmm."
His recollection of the rest of their conversation faded as the elves magic swept back over him, only abating when Arya appeared once more. Glenwing smirked at him when she took his hand, drawing him back towards the Menoa tree. He could hear Glenwing behind him, but he turned to Arya. "What is it?"
She nodded forward towards the werelight, and said, "We only have a few hours left now till the werelight extinguishes and we must return to the world of cold reason."
Elves gathered once more around the tree, faces eager as they gazed upon Islanzadí. She was standing upon a gnarled shelf, overlooking the elves regally. "As is our custom, and as was agreed upon at the end of The Dragon War by Queen Tarmunora, the first Eragon, and the white dragon who represented his race -he whose name cannot be uttered in this or any language- when they bound the fate of elves and dragons together, we have met to honor our blood-oat with song and dance and the fruit of our labor. Last this celebration occurred, many long years ago, our situation was desperate indeed. It has improved somewhat since, the result of our efforts, the dwarves', and the Varden's, though Alagaësia still lies under the black shadow of the Wrydfell, and we must still live with our shame of how we have failed the dragons."
Her gaze flicked over Eragon and Arya before she continued. "Of the Riders of eld, only Oromis, Glaedr, Eragon, Saphira and Brom remain. Many others entered the void this past century, but we've had our hope renewed to us in the form of Arya and Fírnen. It is only right that my daughter and her partner are here now, as we reaffirm the oath between our races three."
At the conclusion of her speech, the elves cleared a wide area at the base of the tree. Lanterns were staked into the ground, while musicians assembled on one of the ridges of a long root. Arya dragged him forward, her hand still clasped tightly in his. He eventually found a seat between her and Oromis, while the Fírnen and Glaedr were crouched on either side of them. Saphira's long head snaked over his own, the strands of his hair rubbing slightly against the bottom of her neck.
The elves settled down quickly, and Eragon watched as the Caretakers Iduna and Nëya walked towards the center. They stood with their backs to each other, nearly identical and equally beautiful except their hair. One's hair was black as the night, the other's gleaming like burnished silver.
Blagden shrieked out, "Wryda!"
There movements synced, they removed their white robes, leaving them bare except for the iridescent tattoo of a dragon. The tattoo began with the dragon's tail wrapped around the left ankle of Iduna, continued up her leg and thigh, over her torso, then across Nëya's back, ending with the dragon head on her chest. Every scale was inked a different color, the rainbow dragon stirring a memory of the last time he had watched the pair.
The two women moved together, twisting their hands and arms together to make the dragon appear as whole. They both stomped their bare foot, the loud thump echoing through the forest. They beat their feet into a rhythm, and the musicians struck their drums to match the tempo.
The other musicians joined in after a moment, the music swelling as the elves continued to dance. Together they moved faster, gathering speed as the two women twisted and turned. Arya squeezed his hand tightly, her gaze locked onto the women as they moved.
The twins began to sing, their voices joining in with the music. Long ago, he was unable to understand the complexity of the spell, but now he was able to understand some. It called upon the ancient dragon's magic, as though reaching through time to touch their very essence. He could feel the magic in Saphira echo in response, watching as the magic rippled across the dragon tattoo.
Saphira and Glaedr began to hum, with Fírnen joining not long after. The chorus of dragon's rumbling vibrated his bones, and he could feel Arya shiver next to him. The Caretakers danced, their movements blurring as they increased their speed. The music became feverish, incomprehensible as the magic took hold.
A flare of light awoke the dragon on the twin's body, the rainbowed creature blinking one eye as wings erupted from its form. With a burst of flame the dragon lunged, pulling itself free from the two elves. The dragon hovered in the air, straining towards the sky as it roared.
With a shock the dragon's eyes fell upon Oromis, the elf nearly jumped as it moved towards the elf. As if pulled by a string his old master stood, palm held forward as the dragon approached. The tip of the dragon's snout touched Oromis's hand, and in a flash of light he watched as the elf collapsed.
He caught Oromis's frail body, feeling magic stirring under the elf's skin. A gasp tore his gaze towards Arya, and he watched as the dragon twisted towards Fírnen. The smaller dragon was captivated, amber eyes locked on the insubstantial form that seemed to pulse intime with the music. The dragon touched its snout to Fírnen's brow, a shimmer running across the green dragon before the incandescent creature suddenly disappeared.
Fírnen did not collapse as Oromis did, but Eragon felt Arya move away towards him. Gazing down at Oromis, Eragon frowned when he caught sight of the elf's features, Oromis's skin seeming to glow now. Eragon turned his head towards Glaedr as the dragon approached.
Glaedr sniffed Oromis, turning a golden eye towards Eragon. We need to move him.
"Will he be alright?" Eragon asked. He gripped the elf tightly, standing with his master's form cradled in his arms.
Glaedr moved forward, the elves keeping back as the dragon led Eragon away from the tree. He will, Glaedr declared.
"I've never seen anything like it," Eragon stated.
An echo of our race, given form by the elves' magic. Glaedr explained briefly, though he could still detect a hint of worry in the old dragon's words.
Islanzadí was ahead, her worried eyes roaming Oromis features.
"Saphira is staying behind to complete the ceremony," Eragon stated. Islanzadí nodded, her hand gripping his arm for a moment before she returned to the clearing. He followed Glaedr as the dragon led him towards his home, knowing that the Crags were too far for Oromis to travel.
Luckily, the tree house was large enough that even Glaedr could fit, though a few more decades would mean that the dragon would be unable to enter the premises. Stepping through his door, Eragon carried Oromis to his bed, laying the elf gently down on the covers.
Thank you, Eragon-vor. Glaedr said. He was watching Oromis carefully, his head resting as near the bed as he could.
"Of course," Eragon said. "I will return to the celebration. Please let me know if he awakens."
Glaedr blinked at him, and Eragon took his leave quietly.
The celebration concluded quickly afterwards, though Fírnen and Arya disappeared before he returned. Elves returned to their homes, fading out of sight behind the tall trees of the forest. By the end, there remained no evidence of the ceremony, the elves quick and efficient as they cleaned up behind them.
Unable to return to his home, Eragon instead followed Saphira as she led him to an open glade near their tree. He settled into her side, watching the stars above as the wind gently blew against him. How is Fírnen? He asked Saphira.
There is no change that we could sense. Saphira told him. Whatever the memory of my kin did to him, I know not. All he said was that he felt a 'tingle run over the entirety of his body' before it disappeared. And Oromis?
Resting, though Glaedr does not seemed too worried.
Should he be? Saphira countered. I trust that whatever magic that was, it can only be of aid to us.
Humming lightly under his breath, Eragon let the conversation die out between them. He twiddled with a few blades of grass in his hands, letting the blades run over his fingers lightly as his thoughts roamed.
He was shaken out of his musing when he heard a soft rustling of leaves from the forest. Arya appeared, and Eragon watched as she silently approached him. She stood before them her features unreadable in the dark of the night.
"How is Fírnen?" Eragon asked.
"Well enough. He is resting in the tree home we've decided to use." Arya said.
Nodding, Eragon dropped the blades of grass in his hands. "I'm glad, then. Oromis is still unconscious, though how the magic will change him remains to be seen."
She nodded her head, her eyes roaming over Saphira and him. After a pause, Arya said quietly, "Might I speak with you, Eragon?"
Frowning, Eragon was suddenly pushed forward into the dirt as Saphira stood. I will give you some privacy.
Arya smiled at the dragon, and Eragon placed his feet below him as he rose from the ground. His frown persisted as Saphira left the glade, though he smoothed his features out when he turned to Arya. She was no longer looking at him, her eyes turned towards the dark sky.
She looked breathtaking; her features bathed in the light of the new moon. Swallowing, Eragon followed her eyes towards the stars, letting them calm the storm that was in his mind. "I have thought much over the past few days of our last conversation."
Confused, Eragon glanced at the elf. She did not face him, but he caught a flash of green eyes momentarily. "Oh?"
"You said you valued the truth, and I was unable to provide it. It was certainly… shocking to learn that what I was to say wasn't the truth, and I want you to know that I never intended to lie to you."
Smiling, Eragon said, "I know that Arya. I just did not want to press you."
She finally turned to him, her eyes seeming to glow in the soft moon light. "As you've said, the truth is usually the best policy, so that is what I wish to do."
When he remained silent, she continued, "The truth is.. I was going to tell you that I did not feel the same towards you, Eragon."
Blinking, Eragon could feel his heart trip in his chest. "But that is a lie?"
"I do not know what the truth is," Arya admitted. "I do not know how I feel for you, only that there is… something between us. What I feel is something I never experienced before, not even with.." Her words trailed off, and Eragon realized who she was talking about.
Not wishing for her to close herself off from him, Eragon said, "It's okay. I understand."
She nodded sharply, her eyes falling from his form. "I do not know where to go from here."
Smiling at her, Eragon placed a hand gently on her shoulder. She jumped at the contact, her eyes meeting his once more. He was glad she did not shy away from him. "Whatever you wish, Arya."
When she did not respond, Eragon stepped back from her, letting his hand fall from its place. "What are your worries? Sharing them with me may allow me to better grasp how we can handle this between us."
A frown marred her face as she turned away, and Eragon had to quell the urge to run his hand through his hair. "There are many things that worry me. Our duty, for one. And how quickly this…thing between us has developed. You are not who I expected you to be."
"Did you expect someone else?" Eragon chuckled humorlessly.
She shook her head, though she remained facing away to the side. "No, Eragon. I only meant that you are different than any other human that I've met. Even Brom is not as close to an elf are you are. You were right when you said that you were caught between my kind and your own."
Absorbing her comment, Eragon instead focused on what she said earlier. "If your concern over our duties is so great, then maybe I can allay them. I am not so foolish to believe that we may not have conflict arise from our duties, but I am willing to separate what we can and not allow our feelings to hold sway."
"And five, ten, even twenty years from now? Could you say that you would feel the same?" Arya asked, her words soft in the night.
Hiding the hurt that suddenly lanced itself in his heart, Eragon finally let his hand run through his hair. "What is five years to one who has lived as long as I have? I know myself, and I know how I feel for you. I may not know all that encompasses the Arya that you are, but I want to."
She faced him again, her eyes raking over his form before meeting his gaze. "Maybe.." she said before trailing off.
"I am not expecting us to become mates, Arya. I merely wish to explore what I know exists between us. I will gladly let you decide how far we will go with this."
She took his hand in her own, her palms surprisingly cool. Though perhaps his own were warm from how hard his heart was beating in his chest. Her emerald eyes captivating him, and he tried to not lose himself in them as she stared at him. "I want to learn more about you as well. I find myself drawn to you, and you are right. I may be considered young for an elf, but you are much older than I am. I must trust that you know yourself more than I do."
"So, you are willing to see where this will lead us?" Eragon asked finally. He wanted to slant his lips over Arya's own, to finally know the feeling of her, but he would let her set the pace for as long as she wished. The last thing he wanted to do was to push her away, and he would not trail after her like a lost puppy, begging for scraps of attention.
She was silent for so long that he had the sudden urge to pull his hand from hers, but she tightened her grip. "Yes." She whispered. For a moment he thought he could sense a hint of fear in her words, but he let it pass.
Smiling, Eragon pulled her into a light embrace, letting go of her hand in order to place his own around her back. Arya stiffened for a moment, but then she relaxed as she returned the hug. "I am glad," Eragon whispered.
A shiver seemed to run across her body. Eragon withdrew after a moment, letting her features fill his vision. A frown was marred across her face, but it disappeared when he caught sight of it. In its place a small smile bloom, one that he gladly returned. He pulled her over to a nearby tree, sinking onto the ground and letting his knees rest in front of him. Arya seemed to debate something for a moment, but then he watched as she settled down next to him. Their backs were pressed against the tree, though it was not grating even through his tunic.
Their shoulders were rubbing against one another, and he lightly pressed his own into her. She glanced at the movement, before pressing back against him. Eragon let the silence rain down around them for some time, the both of them lost in their thoughts and the soft glow of the moon above.
After some time, he finally broached the silence between them. "Saphira and I will return soon to the Varden," Eragon stated.
Her head turned towards him, and he smiled gently as she looked at him. "Oh? Did you know that I intended to leave after the celebration as well?"
"No," Eragon admitted, "But I thought that you might have wanted to. I've scryed the land, and seen that Nasuada has reached Surda. I imagine that your mother has received such reports as well."
"Will we travel together, then?" Arya bid. "I wanted to leave soon after the Blood-Oath, but now I must wait till whatever was done to Fírnen has run its course."
"Let me speak with Orik and Glenwing," Eragon proposed, "And see what they wish to do. Saphira can easily carry Orik and Glenwing as well as myself, but I do not know if Orik will be willing to travel as such."
"If Fírnen is up to it, he could carry Orik as well as myself." Arya stated. Eragon doubted it, as the dragon was still young, but did not want to dissuade the elf. Dragons were fiercely prideful, and if it came out that he thought Fírnen was unable the dragon would no doubt try to prove him wrong. "Regardless," Arya continued, "I must speak with Oromis once he recovers."
"And your mother?"
She frowned slightly at him, but did not react as he'd thought. "My mother knows my duty, but I must still speak with her." She hesitated for a moment before saying, "But there is something I wish to share with you."
Surprised, Eragon raised a brow at her. "I would be delighted to know whatever it is, Arya."
She turned her back to him, and he nearly froze as she removed one arm from her tunic. She lifted the tunic, exposing her strong back. His fingers itched to run across the exposed skin, but he paused when he noticed the indigo tattoo inscribed on her left shoulder.
The tattoo was the Yawë, showing her devotion to her people. That she would trust him with this meant much, and he let his finger softly trail over the inscription. Arya jumped at the contact, but she did not pull away. Her skin was like silk under his fingers, and he could feel the power of her body under them. "Thank you for showing me this," he whispered.
The Yawë presented him with physical evidence of her sense of duty, but Eragon also realized how strongly it was a part of who she was.
She only pulled the tunic down when his fingers left her back, snaking her arm back through the tunic. When she leaned her shoulder back against him Eragon could spot a soft flush that raced across her neck and almost up to her ears. Instead of acknowledging it, Eragon let his head rest against the tree, gazing once more up at the night sky.
He did not know how much time passed before Arya rested her head gently against his shoulder, but he closed his eyes at the contact. He let out a soft breath, enjoying the feeling of her so close to him.
Blinking against the light, Eragon shielded his eyes as he came into awareness. It was clearly morning now, the red morning sun peaking above the horizon. Birds chirped above and around him, their songs helping coax him from his slumber. When he made to shift his shoulder he stopped, feeling the weight of Arya still upon him. Her breathe was soft, the sound faint even to his ears.
He did not wish to move, but he also did not want anyone to find them as such. Raising a hand slowly, Eragon lightly shook her shoulder. "Arya," he whispered.
She startled at his voice, her gaze sweeping around the clearing as she woke. Their eyes locked when she turned to him, and he could feel his heart nearly lurch into his throat at the look in her eyes. They were wide, shining both with shock and something Eragon couldn't make out. She blinked at him as she pulled away, the emotion gone. "Forgive me, Eragon. I did not intend to fall asleep."
"It's alright," Eragon smiled gently. "I did not either. But I can't say that I didn't enjoy it."
White teeth flashed at him as she rose from the ground, and Arya offered him a hand to pull him up to his feet. He took it, feeling her strength as she pulled. Eragon kept their hands linked as he stood, and Arya did not retreat from his grasp.
Tension rose between them as their gazes locked once again, but Eragon broke it when he tugged on her hand. They walked side by side into the forest, and he only relinquished her hand once they arrived back in the city. He followed Arya's lead as they followed the path to the tree homes, stopping before home he did not recognize.
Arya stepped onto the stairs leading up, turning to him when he remained where he was. She smiled at him, and Eragon returned the gesture. "I will see you later, Eragon."
Bowing to her, Eragon proclaimed, "I eagerly await such a time, Arya Svit-kona."
She chuckled lightly at him, but he did not know what she found humorous. Instead, she waved him off as she climbed the steps, and he watched as she disappeared into the door of what Eragon assumed was her new tree home. He remembered Arya telling him she moved to a tree home now that Fírnen was getting too large to stay in her room in Tialdarí Hall.
Her tree was not far from his own, and Eragon spotted Glaedr resting outside his home. Frowning, Eragon approached the golden dragon. Glaedr opened one of his eyes as he came upon him, the ancient dragon casting his mind out to Eragon.
Good morning, Eragon-vor.
Glaedr-elda. Eragon responded. What are you doing out here? Is Oromis alright?
The dragon closed his eyes, a plume of smoke leaving his nostrils. Saphira is in the tree. It would not do for me to take her resting place. Oromis has only just awoken, waiting for your return.
Ah. I am glad to hear that he is awake.
As am I. The dragon shifted lightly on the ground, his tail lightly tapping the bark of the tree. I wish to thank you again, Eragon. It was most gracious of you to allow Oromis to rest in your bed.
It is of no consequence, Glaedr.
The dragon did not respond, so Eragon climbed the steps to his own home. Entering his home, Eragon let the door close softly behind him. Casting his eyes around the room, Eragon spotted Oromis talking softly with Saphira on her dais. The elf's back was to him, but he could see a new strength in Oromis's posture.
Oromis turned to him, and Eragon was surprised to see the transformation that his old master had undergone. Oromis looked nearly identical to when Eragon had first seen him, his youth and strength restored. No longer was he frail, seeming to exude the power that he once held. "Oromis?"
The elf smiled at him, and he could see a real joy spread across the older elf's face. "Eragon. I must thank you for your assistance during the ceremony."
Nodding, his shock still remained. "How do you feel, master?"
"Better than I have in centuries," Oromis replied. He stretched lightly, much more limber than Eragon had seen him before. "My illness seems to have gone. Even the affliction I was born with is no longer present."
"Truly?" Eragon whispered. A sense of hope began to fill him, elation rising above the shock.
Oromis nodded. "I will still go and have our healers check to be certain, but I no longer need the handicap spells I once did." Oromis whispered a spell, and Eragon watched as a werelight formed in the palm of the elf's hand. It was brighter than any Eragon had seen Oromis cast, and he did not see the strain that would usually be present.
The werelight was still in his hand as he spoke, "I can cast spells that I haven't been able to since the Fall, and accessing the magic that is inside me is as easy as it was when I was but a child."
Eragon finally smiled, clasping his hand strongly on his old master's shoulder. His actions seemed to have surprised the elf, for the werelight suddenly vanished. "I am heartened at the news, Oromis-elda, that you have been made…"
"Whole." The elf finished.
Eragon nodded, his thoughts trailing off. If Oromis was returned to his full strength, then both the elves and the Varden had just gained a powerful ally. Glaedr was still missing his foreleg, but the dragon was fierce enough and still a capable fighter. Only Thorn or Shruikan would pose a threat to the gold dragon, but Eragon had faith that the old dragon could triumph.
He let his hand fall from the elf's shoulder, finally gathering his wandering mind back to the situation at hand. "Now that you are restored, Oromis-elda, I no longer need to be named the Leader of the Riders."
The elf's smiled remained, though he shook his head at Eragon. "I am an Elder, Eragon-vor. You are the one that must bear the burden of leadership, but Glaedr and I will always offer you our support."
Apprehension grew inside Eragon, but he did not let it show as he bowed to the elf. "I will continue to hold to the standard of duty that you have taught me, Oromis-elda."
"When will you depart?" Oromis asked. At Eragon's surprised expression, the elf chuckled lightly. "I've always known that you would not be able to remain here, for it has never been in your nature to stay still. The Varden has reached Surda, and they will have need of you once more."
"Soon," Eragon said. "Arya wishes to speak with you concerning their training, since she plans to leave with us."
The elf inclined his head, his eyes no longer focused on Eragon. "Her training has been near complete for a while now. Only Fírnen's age is of concern, being so young and untested. It has yet remained unclear what happened to him during the ceremony, but we must trust that the dragons only wished to aid us in our fight against Galbatorix."
Eragon agreed. Oromis left his tree home soon after, his movements showing a gracefulness that Eragon had not seen since before he left Alagaësia two hundred years ago. Saphira was still watching him from the dais as he finally approached her. She hummed at him, and he placed his hand gently against the side of her neck.
How was your rest, little-one?
Frowning, he glared at her. He could sense the mirth in her voice. She blinked an eye at him, and he sighed as he leaned against her. How did you know?
You smell like the elf, Saphira retorted. Her scent is all over you. Did the two of you finally come to your senses?
She agreed to…explore whatever is between us. I'm not sure exactly what that means myself, but I will let her set the pace.
The dragon snorted, her sapphire eye closing. Be careful, Eragon.
I know, He said. She isn't her, Saphira.
No, she isn't. Remember that any decision you make will affect us both.
He kissed the side of her neck, feeling the warmth of her scales heat his skin. You will always hold a special place in my heart, Saphira. No one, not even Arya, can change that.
Her humming grew, and Eragon let his mind mingle with hers as they enjoyed the closeness the bond provided them.
Eragon knocked lightly on Glenwing's door, waiting for the elf to answer him. It was nearing midday now, and Eragon hoped the elf was home and playing his usual game of runes with Orik. He was proven correct when the dwarf opened the door, his bearded face beaming up at him as Orik beckoned him inside.
"Come, come, Eragon." Orik said.
Eragon stepped inside, greeting Orik as he made his way towards the table in the tree home. Glenwing stood up at his approach, a large smile on his face. "Eragon! What a surprise, indeed."
Eragon smiled, settling down into a chair to the side of the rune board. "Who's winning today?"
Glenwing frowned, his displeasure evident on his angular face. "Orik is," he muttered.
Chuckling, he watched as Glenwing finally moved a piece on the board. Orik scoffed, causing the frown to deepen on the elf's face.
Turning to Orik, Eragon asked, "How did you enjoy the celebration?"
The dwarf stroked his beard, his eyes still critically scanning the runes in front of him. "It was certainly interesting, and something I will remember for the rest of my days. Even if it was with more elves that I have ever cared to see. Strange creatures, them."
"Oh?" Glenwing murmured. "And here I thought we were friends."
The dwarf smirked, but it was hard to make out under the bush of his beard. "You are perhaps the strangest elf I have ever laid eyes on. And that's saying a lot, especially after the Blood-Oath." Orik finally moved a rune, but neither of them reacted other than narrowing their eyes in concentration.
"I've said much the same," Eragon laughed. "But I'm afraid poking fun at Glenwing is not the reason for my visit."
"Are you finally here to tell me you and Arya decided to cast aside all your inhibitions and finally make my dream a reality?" Glenwing exclaimed, his head perking up. The elf stared at him, and Eragon shook his head slowly as a chuckle rang out of him. They may not have named what was between them, but Eragon was over the moon knowing that Arya at least was willing to see where their feelings led.
Keeping the news to himself, Eragon denied Glenwing the reply the elf wanted. "News has reached us that the Varden has reached Surda, and Nasuada has joined with King Orrin. Arya and I plan to leave soon, and I wanted to know if the two of you wished to join us."
Glenwing and Orik stared at each other for a moment, a silent conversation passing between them. Orik finally smiled, joy breaking through as he looked at Eragon once more. "If it means leaving this forest behind, I will gladly join. I've grown fat and lazy here, and a bit of excitement will do me some good."
"I must warn you that we will travel by dragon," Eragon stated. "Time is of the essence, and it will take too long to travel by horse."
"Barzûl," Orik muttered under his breath. Eragon smiled, knowing how dwarf's hated being so far from the ground. His face pale, the dwarf glared at Eragon.
"When do we depart?" Glenwing asked. That the elf was so quick to join heartened Eragon. He may have complained about the elf on occasion, but Glenwing was perhaps his closest friend besides Arya. Eragon would be glad to have the elf watch his back.
"I must discuss this with Arya, but when Fírnen is feeling well enough. We will have to see about who will join Arya, but if Fírnen is unable to carry an additional passenger we will have to extend the saddle for Saphira." Eragon stated.
He rubbed his chin as he thought about it. She could easily bear the weight of three riders, especially if one of them was a dwarf. It would be uncomfortable, however, trying to squeeze three people onto her current saddle. Eragon could always fashion an addition saddle, but it might be awkward for her to fly for so long with it.
Glenwing hummed, turning back to the runes. Orik's face was no longer pale, instead showing concentration once more as his friends focused on the game before them. Eragon sat back, letting his thoughts wander as the two continued to play.