The Black Morass

by Gerald Lambert

  twitching.

  "Yes, I do. Thank you for delivering her message to me", he felt Blödhgarm being slightly amused at his bewilderment and grinned, "This will be interesting. I don't really know how

  I should feel about that anymore."

  Blödhgarm's amusement drained away and fed into something much more gentle.

  "I understand your predicament, Eragon, and you have my sympathy for that. How can this be easy in any way?", he teased now, trying to cheer up the Rider who has become his

  friend, "Matters of dragons are hard enough for one to deal with, but matters between men and queens? You are sure to be lost there."

  I am early. Ways too early. The sun isn't even close to set yet.

  Taking a deep breath Eragon sat down in front of the mirror. He looked into it once and felt the sudden need to straighten the strands of his hair, smiling wryly while doing so and

  feeling ridiculous a moment later. He approached this meeting with split feelings and wasn't sure what he was to expect – neither from Arya nor from himself.

  On the one hand he longed dearly for her, yearning to just see her face and hear her voice again so much that it felt like tearing him apart from the inside. But on the other hand –

  he was afraid.

  Because whatever happens, whatever he wished for, they would remain separated in the end, and he wasn't sure how to cope with that. What is there to say to someone you hold

  so dearly, yet was so far away without any hope for both of that to change?

  His heart was screaming for her, but his mind wasn't sure whether he was doing himself any good with that. He was very afraid.

  Yet already decided just to take whatever might happen to him, at least for today, he looked around his room to distract himself. For by now, the mirror wasn't standing in a tent

  anymore of course, but in one of the small rooms within the first building of theirs. For now this was his dwelling room, and it would probably stay like this for quite some time. It

  wasn't much, just a bed, a desk, a chair, a small dresser and this mirror. It was enough for now; he didn't need more anyway.

  "Well, a little more space wouldn't be too bad", he heard Saphira sneer in the back of his head. He grinned.

  "For what? With all the bulk you possess you wouldn't fit in anyway. By the by, are you on your way?"

  "I am. But don't try to sidetrack: You say you think I am fat?"

  At that Eragon had to laugh out aloud, the voice of his mind not being enough anymore.

  "Peace, my love. My one and only love. Of course you could never be anything but perfect."

  At that he felt a curious sensation through their link; she might have puffed some smoke out of her nostrils.

  "Rightly so."

  And he still grinned as the surface of the mirror suddenly shivered and, an instant later, revealed again Nasuada. Differently from their previous talk she now wasn't standing in her

  study, but in what seemed to be a vast courtyard with fountains and flowers and trees and benches. By the way, she obviously was early, too.

  Eragon touched his lips with two fingers, all the while smiling at her, his eyes warm.

  "Be greeted, your Majesty."

  Nasuada imitated his movement, one corner of her mouth lifting slightly.

  "Be greeted, Leader of the Riders."

  Eragon chuckled.

  "What Riders am I leading? The only two there are besides me are fairly out of reach of my leading."

  While he spoke this he thought he saw the air move beside Nasuada, as well as hearing the shuffling of what might have been a pair of dragon wings. He breathed in excitedly.

  "Maybe so, but it won't stay like this, will it?", Nasuada drew his attention towards her again, "But enough of this jesting around now, how are you faring?"

  He exchanged some more pleasantries with her and also gave her a short summary of their further advances, but she seemed to feel his distraction and excused herself little time

  later.

  As she stepped out of his sight, another person strode smoothly into his range of vision and all of the sudden it was Arya standing in front of him. She let her gaze rest intently upon

  him, her eyes both warm and sombre at the same time.

  "Atra esterní ono thelduin, Eragon Shadeslayer", she spoke, touching her lips while Fírnen shoved his head in front of the mirror and laid it down beside Arya. Eragon heard him

  growling deeply in recognition and blinking with a giant emerald eye.

  Eragon just had to smile back pressing his fore and middle finger against his lips, too.

  "Un du Evarínya ono varda, Fírnen un Arya Dröttning."

  A moment of silence followed after Eragon spoke his part of the elven greeting, yet it wasn't an uncomfortable one. Both of them were considering the other, watching intently and

  learning. Eragon felt a warmth spread inside of him, a part of him now feeling whole and sound as though it had never been any differently. Other parts of him felt the pain of

  seeing something he craved so dearly, but was so far out of reach. Before he could dwell more on this feelings however, Arya began to speak.

  "Nasuada told me you are settled and I listened to you speaking before, but I still don't know anything more specific about your dwelling place. Would you tell me about it?"

  "Of course. After three weeks on the water we were sailing past the foothills of a large mountain range, not as gigantic as the Beors, but with vast valleys and forests in between.

  There was enough space for us and everything we need and so I decided to take a closer look. We all did so, and finding the land suitable and seemingly uninhabited, we moved on

  to choosing one of the valleys, but I think you already know about all that so far", she gave a nod, after that he smiled, "You should see it, Arya, it's so very beautiful. We will build

  the city in the middle of a plain field on the foot of the mountains, on the other side is a forest of young and friendly pines and firs growing and just half a league away there is a

  large lake in the middle of the woods, feeding from a cool mountain stream. You can find here really anything you could wish for both for the eye and for function. The dragons will

  find enough food in here and there are plenty of caves of every size in the mountains. The only thing missing now is a name. I am quite tired of thinking and speaking always about

  "the valley" and "the city", but the only names that come to my mind are either too simple or ridiculous. Maybe you can think of something?"

  "Hhmm", Arya murmured and crooked her head sideward in thought, "I will think about it, but actually I'd rather say it is your own decision to make. It's your home and how could I

  think of a fitting name without having ever seen it? I wouldn't worry too much about it, the right name will come to you in time."

  "Perhaps you are right", Eragon admitted, revelling at how right it felt just to talk to her, even about such frivolous topics. For a moment he looked silently into her shimmering

  eyes, "So tell me about you. How are things going for you?"

  She spoke to him for quite a long time, told him about rebuilding and politics, about treaties and other negotiations, but she never once spoke about herself. And it was at that, that

  Eragon recognized something was different.

  "Don't judge her too harshly, Eragon", heheard Saphira's voice in his mind; she was already close now, "The times are hard on her, too. You cannot expect her to jump for joy."

  "I do not. But I don't want her to be unhappy."

  Arya had finished her report but a few seconds ago, but his unresponsiveness and aloof gaze made her raising her eyebrows at him. He cringed and focused again, looking at her

  with caution. He just had to ask her.

  "Arya... Are you well?"

  "I am fine enough", she answered immediately. But out of the corner of his eye he could see Fírnen's large eye looking at them in turns, he seemed
to talk to Arya for a moment. At

  that she seemed to relax a bit.

  "You are sure?"

  Oh, he knew it was not easy, it wasn't by far easy on him, and it wouldn't be easy on her either.

  "I mean... How do you feel?", and he knew she would understand the question in the proper way, "Are you happy, Arya?"

  She looked at him for a very long time, her eyes never wavering, betraying nothing. He felt his heart sinking.

  "It's hard to tell sometimes whether you are happy. Most of the time you don't know and will always only recognise if you are not. But I feel... content. Do not worry."

  At that he saw her eyes getting softer and felt somewhat relieved. Still the hurt won't go away.

  "That is good", he answered, yet his eyes were downcast. He knew that she wouldn't give more away.

  "And you?", he heard her ask, his gaze snapping back to meet hers, "Are you happy?"

  He looked at her for a long moment before answering.

  "I am fine with the task I set myself and I am looking forward to what this place will become and to what I want to do here. But am I happy? No. Not yet. Or content

  There was a silence between them once again and somehow he could feel the some emotion emitting from Saphira's mind as he could see in Arya's eyes.

  "Eragon...", she spoke, very softly now, "Don't fret yourself about what you cannot change. You have to go on. Live in the present and don't dwell too much on the pains of the

  past."

  "Should I turn my back on everything I cherish just because I cannot reach it anymore?", he replied, feeling somewhat hurt at her speech; even though knowing that she meant only

  well, "No, I will not forget you or Roran or Nasuada, or Murtagh for that matter. Family is still family even if a thousand miles apart."

  He locked on to her gaze seeing her eyes widen a tiny little bit, seeing something moving behind them. Even Fírnen now lifted his head from the lawn he had rested it on.

  Nearly overpowered by emotion, Eragon pressed his hand against the cold surface of the mirror.

  " I will not forgetyou. I will not lose you", his voice trembled slightly, yet he spoke with conviction and thought to himself, Even if this feeling is unbearable sometimes. Even if I will

  never see you again.

  Somehow, he knew what he said was true. Somehow, what he said made him scared. Somehow, he was sure that Arya knew all of that.

  Because after a long moment, she took an hesitant step forward, raised her arm very slowly and laid her hand on the opposite side of the hard glass. Pressing it against his.

  Eragon couldn't look away from their hands. From all you could see they were touching; as he thought about the distance that was actually between them, he felt sick. He locked

  eyes with Arya, as she whispered very quietly and very softly:

  "I am so sorry..."

  He felt a shiver run down his spine.

  Before he could give an answer however, or before he could even think about an answer, Saphira chose that moment to stick her head through the vast window of Eragon's room,

  humming loudly to greet both Arya and Fírnen. The three of them jerked out of their positions at the sudden "intruder" appeared, Eragon's and Arya's hands were torn apart. A

  strange moment followed were both of them tried to collect themselves again, doing so successfully.

  Then Saphira spoke through Eragon to Fírnen and Arya, and Fírnen was talking back through his Rider, too. They were conversing for a few minutes, but only about the most trivial matters. The two dragons were more communicating with body language or sounds but with words, enjoying to see the other again. In the middle of that he saw Arya turning her

  head, she seemed to listen to someone talking, turning back seconds later.

  "We have to go now, Bjartskular, Shadeslayer", she twisted her hand in front of her chest, adding: "May the stars watch over you."

  Eragon replied swiftly, feeling a slight panic rise in his chest at the prospect of having to let her go again.

  "Fair winds to you both, Fírnen and Arya. Until we meet again."

  "Until we meet again."

  Eragon might have imagined the regret in her voice, but he wasn't sure. Just as he was thinking this the surface of the mirror shivered again, Arya and Fírnen vanishing from his

  view, leaving him looking into his own eyes. He touched the glass again.

  "Saphira, as you came in, did you see – "

  "Yes, I did."

  "Then why – "

  "I did what a dragon has to do for her Rider. You were going to hurt yourself, even more as you already did. I saved you."

  After a short consideration he had to admit that she was right.

  Aaah... Sad again. But we go our way.

  I hope you liked that chappie, the next one will be Arya's POV and we will have a tiny time skip inbetween ;) I will try to post it next weekend, but I cannot give a guarantee...

  By the way, I will rename this fanfic to "They say the world was meant for two" in the next few days, so don't get a shock if the link isn't working anymore or something like that...

  I was never really satisfied with "When we stand together" and just chose it because

  I couldn't think of anything better,

  and didn't want to give it a name with epic romance or love or whatever in it like thousands before

  I was determined to release the prologue directly after writing it

  and was listening to the song of nickelback as I did so

  Now I am choosing something from a song again, I know, but after listening more intently to video games I just found this line (and the refrain as a whole) SO beautiful, and SO

  fitting and I had to think SO much of Arya and Eragon as I heard it, that I just have to do this now. Just don't be confused if the title changes, ah, and I will add titles for the

  chapter, too.

  Now, another thing about my spelling/grammar: I know there might be some mistakes, more or less. For the spelling: Blame the dictionary of microsoft word. For the grammar:

  Keep in mind that this is not my mother tongue, I am really trying my very best! And to be honest, it feels to much an effort for me to write this story with a beta, so just bear my mistakes, ignore them or don't.

  She read through it twice, soaking up the words written by his hand and trying to see, to understand what could have made him write something like this. It was a sad but beautiful

  poem, written with feeling and understanding. It was aware of space and time. It was quite a good piece of poetry.

  She wondered if it was about her. And a second later, she wondered if she was overcompensating.

  But it brought an issue back to her mind that she was dwelling on for several weeks already.

  "Where are you going?", Fírnen asked, feeling her intentions as she stood abruptly.

  "I don't know for sure. I will let my feet go their own way."

  "Do what you must. But do you really think you will find an answer to your question out there?"

  She shrugged her shoulders, feeling slightly uneasy.

  "I have to come to a decision now or it will soon be too late."

  She stroked Fírnen once down his jaw for a short goodbye. This was a path she had to walk on her own.

  "You are talking as though it was a decision of life and death."

  She laughed out softly, her eyes sparkling for a short fraction of time.

  "No, not one of life and death, but a hard one nonetheless. Though it all would feel so insignificant for a stranger...", she shook her head once.

  "Sometimes", Fírnen spoke with a strange tilt in his voice, "Sometimes the seemingly insignificant decisions turn out to be the most significant of our lives."

  Only minutes later Arya was alone. She was alone and walking slowly underneath the canopy of pines, where barely a flicker of moonlight reached the ground. Even for her eyes

  the forest was only dimly lit. Yet she didn't care. She felt he
rself relax in the quiet of the darkness and her solitude, felt herself entering the qualm state of mind she would require

  to solve her problem. Almost subconsciously her thoughts came back to the poem in the grassboat over and over again.

  It wasn't the first one of its kind to find her. She didn't know how many of them came to her over all these years, bringing songs, poems and short stories of apparently randomly

  chosen topics to her, all of them written in the same handwriting, in the handwriting of a friend and confidant.

  Nowadays, this was the only way they stayed in touch.

  For after that rather painful talk through Nasuada's mirror they had never seen nor met nor spoke to each other in person again.

  This development had never been of her intention, nor, or so she thought, of his, but she could perfectly understand why he hesitated to expose himself to a conversation like this

  again and she didn't want to force it upon him to see or talk to her.

  It wasn't necessary to make life any harder than it already is, to cause yourself more pain than you had to. Because they both, or rather, all the four of them had known that they

  won't see each other again for a very, very long time.

  And then, the first grassboat arrived. It came to her at night, like this one, and it made her heart jolt like nothing had for a very long time as it floated in gentle upanddown movements towards her. She couldn't think what to make out of its content at first, wasn't sure if he wanted to tell her something in particular with the poem it contained and the

  words he wrote on the backside of the paper. Because there always stood the same words: In deepest affection, and the date he sent off the letter.

  But then the next arrived, and then the next and so on, all of them with the most different kinds of writings. They were about this and that, some made her sad, some made her

  glad, others made her laugh, others were just for her and others were about her. And she realized that he just wanted to share something with her, something of his deepest

  thoughts, yet without the pain or the frustration their relation was drenched with.