As she had understood this she decided to write back. And so she had sent off her own grassboats, letting them take their journey with writings of her own to the unknown lands
behind the horizon to bring comfort to someone she held dear like no one else before. The thought and feeling of this made her feel at peace with herself.
And after every piece of paper she had sent to him she kept eagerly on waiting for his "response", feeling a closeness to him when receiving his writings like no other. For this was
Eragon writing to Arya, friend to friend, with love and care.
Because his other letters, the letters he was sending through a visiting Rider or some other kind of messenger, this letters of duty and politic, this were letters from the Leader of
the Riders to the Queen of the Elves. They still were written with warm words, but of course held none of the intimacy of their grassboatletters.
And now, as she meandered apparently aimlessly through the woods, now she was afraid of an idea her own mind came to think of. Because, since she came to cherish this kind of
consequenceless "closeness in distance", she was afraid to break it. And if she really did what her mind came up with so recklessly, she would break it. But another part of her,
and not a small one either, wanted her to do it, even if it meant to risk a confrontation with longburied feelings.
She didn't know what Eragon's feelings considering their separation were now, but for her it was a doubleedged sword: She knew that both of them only did what they deemed
necessary, but it was far from being without regret on her part. For she knew she didn't feel for him as strongly as he did all this time ago, yet she did have to leave her best
friend, her only confidant besides her dragon and someone she shared all of her being with. It was a devastating loss for both of them.
Like a flood of water an old and unpleasant memory pushed itself into her mind:
They watched the Talítha sail on and disappear into the darkness beyond, watched the shape of Saphira wane as well in the increasing distance. Slowly they made their way back to
Roran who still stood at the shore, also gazing after the ship.
"I should have never left him after the battle in Urû'baen. I should have asked him to come with me to my mother's funeral, and to come with me as I took your egg to Ellesméra.
Then he would have known. And I would have known and never had accepted the throne...", she thought bitterly to herself.
"Arya...", Fírnen spoke to her, "You hurt yourself unnecessarily. What is done is done. You cannot change the past. You know that, why do I have to remind you of it?"
She lowered her head, feeling a slowly increasing pain in her chest. Fírnen now circled high above Roran, giving his Rider some time to compose herself.
"I know. It's just... just look at the odds! It was misfortune upon misfortune. Don't get me wrong, I don't regret becoming queen, but... I wouldn't have taken the crown if I knew he
were to leave with the eggs and the Eldunarí. I would have gone with him. I would have build the Riders anew with him. You and Saphira would still be together. And for Eragon and me... I don't know, but maybe... Just maybe..."
Despite his words she felt Fírnen's regret mingle with hers as she spoke and their combined despair nearly made her blackout. She heard Fírnen give a heartbreaking wail, a
lament for their loss and the bitter game fate played with them. She tapped against his shoulder.
"Come on, Roran will be waiting."
With her words Fírnen relaxed the muscles of his strong wings, spiralling towards the ground slowly, still biding their time and letting Arya brushing off the tears that were running
down her cheeks.
The heartache she felt after his leavetaking took its time to go by. It were many weeks that she felt very lonely, despite Fírnen, for not being alone doesn't mean you cannot feel
lonely. The pain dulled in time as it always did, yet a fragment remained within her, stabbing and annoying her whenever she expect it the least. This was one of the things she
couldn't bring herself to show him while they spoke through the mirror.
But she felt better now after this long, long time, distracted by the work that was constantly waiting for her and comforted by Fírnen – and the letters that came with the
grassboats. Yet better was not good, and sometimes she still missed him dearly.
All the while she was walking on, ever deeper into the forest, walking farther than a human would have felt comfortable with, and she knew subconsciously were her feet were
taking her.
She wondered how Eragon felt by now. Was he feeling better now, too? She was quite sure he was. No heart can carry a pain this long and this intensive. She was sure he was off
fine, with all the others now with him.
But on the other hand, there was one of Eragon's poems, one that she knew by heart; despite the hurt and sadness in it, it was one of her favourite. It wasn't so long ago that he
sent her this, just a few years, and it made her wonder if she was right with her suggestions:
She didn't know what to make out of this. It could be about her. It could be about Alagaësia as a whole, his former home. It could be about something entirely else. But she
wondered.
Finally she slowed down as she reached what might have been her destination from the very beginning. Devoutly she took her last steps forward, entering a small meadow like
thousand others deep within Du Weldenvarden. Yet for her it was a unique place.
She came to a halt as she stood beneath the open skies and closed her eyes solemnly. For a moment she only concentrated on what was surrounding her: The light breeze of a
summer night on her only scantily clad skin; the smell of wood and rich clay in the air, the sound of the wind in the trees, the soft moss underneath her bare feet… She remained
listening like this till she felt her body practically humming, becoming one with the subtle symphony of the night. It was then that she opened her eyes again, looking straight up to
the stars. A strong feeling of nostalgia was gripping her.
You are still the same. You are still here. You are very lucky stars.
She gulped once as she felt her throat tightening. Giving in to the feelings inside as she did so very rarely, she let herself fall down onto her knees, now sitting all on her own in the middle of the forest, her hands intertwined and pressed firmly into her lap. Yet her gaze never lowered.
They are shining so innocently down on me, so indifferent. Have they been indifferent too, as I was here with him, hearing gentle words and talking foolishness?
For it had been here, in this meadow, were she had been alone with Eragon after the last Agaetí Blödhren. She remembered his words as if it was but a few days ago:
"How tall the trees, how bright the stars… and how beautiful you are, o Arya Svitkona."
It was quite interesting what a different effect his words now had on her. Back then she was angered beyond reason, now she felt a stinging sorrow in her chest. She sighed.
Svitkona, you said? No, I've been a fool. You have seen farther than I on that night. I never thought that we were to become that close, Eragon. We have been so very different…
In the end, we were no more.
The sorrow in her heart began to change slowly into something else, something much more stubborn and determined, as she thought about the injustice fate forced upon them.
This cannot be the end. You were – you are my friend. You told me that you would never lose me. I shouldn't keep you apart from me, just because I am afraid of the pain. What
kind of Rider would I be, if I let my fear become the better of me?
And so she found the answer to her question she pondered for so long: She would invite Eragon to the Agaetí Blödhren that was to take place in nearly four months.
What is fate but what we decide to do? I wil
l alter my fate now, Eragon. I will see you again.
Her decision finally made, she rose to her feet and turned back the way she came. Her pace was strong and determined and after only a few steps she found herself running swiftly
through the forest, feeling a vitality in her limbs that she hadn't felt for a very long time.
The night already began to change into day as she approached her hut and the dragon resting in front of it. She felt a warmth spread inside her as they joined their minds even
tighter, hearing his voice speak to her.
"Your walk was fruitful, I see."
"So it was. I cannot keep on chatting now, Fírnen. A letter is waiting that wants to be written."
For now she wanted to write a letter like he received only once before: A letter from Arya, not from the Queen, not even from the Rider. Just from her. A plea, just from her.
"And you will think that he will come, just like that?", her dragon asked her as she was already slipping through the door.
"No, not just like that. What can I do but hope? The times have changed, it's not like it was nearly a century ago, right after the war, anymore. We all are settled; there is justice
and peace back in Alagaësia, and the Riders are established once again. I do believe it is possible for him come. Whether he wants to or will come, alas, that I do not now. I will
just have to give it a try."
By now she was already sitting at her desk, taking a new sheet of paper out of a drawer and laid it down in front of her. She felt a thrill of joy and anxiety run through her as she
picked up a quill to start writing.
Her best friend… They were so very close, yet it was so long ago. How will he have changed? How will he feel now for her?
This thoughts came back to her over and over again while she filled the sheet with black runes. She heard Fírnen chuckle in her mind.
"Come on. I know you long to see her, too", Arya tried to tease back.
"For sure. But I am not so sure anymore if I long more for her than you do for her Rider."
"Hhmpf. Maybe. But I am anxious."
"Why so?"
"However I twist and turn the odds I come to one conclusion: He won't be the same anymore."
"You cannot know that. You are, for the most part, still the Arya you have been all this years ago, aren't you?"
"I know. And that is what I fear the most." She heard Fírnen sigh.
"What can I say, Arya? He is the Leader of our order. Of course he won't be anymore the youth he was when he left these lands behind. But, considering all the things you told me
about him and my own observations too, I am very sure of one thing: Whatever will have changed in him, he will always be Eragon. He is pure of heart, honest and very caring.
And he is very fond of you. Nothing of these things will have changed, of that I am sure."
Arya had to stop writing as she heard Fírnen speaking these words. She looked outside the window were the sun was rising over the crags of Tel'naeír this very moment and wasn't
sure whether she wanted to cry or laugh.
My god, what did I do?
This is by far the longest introspection I ever wrote. But I must say, I liked it. I think the line of Arya's thoughts is quite reasonable, tell me what you think about it.
And thanks to the bands Wolfsheim and Jupiter Jones whose songs I abused (after translating them to English) for Eragon's poems. ;)
The next chapter will see the first meeting of my two best friends after nearly a hundred years… Hmmm… This will get hard. I have a moderate plan of what to write but I didn't
think about the subtleties for now, so don't be disappointed if I won't make it till next weekend, I will rather wait a week than writing some rubbish.
It was evening on their first day of travelling, and they had stopped at sunset to set up camp, as they were not used to any routine and they had the extra hassle of their
unconscious companion to get used to. Their camp was nestled at the bottom of a hill, where they had found a little pond and wispy trees surrounding it. Kabarak had immediately
gone off to hunt, keeping close enough for contact with Sasha and Raya, and the two had proceeded to dismount Taya and set up camp. It took a while, as the whole process was
foreign to them, but by the time Kabarak flew back with their dinner Sasha had succeeded in building a tiny fire and Raya had set up their tent and the horses were untacked and
watered.
Yes, it is. And we have much more to see before our travels end. Kabarak replied lightly as he crunched on a bone. At first the girls' reception to his idea of dinner had been of
disgust, but his argument was that they might as well eat what they could hunt and catch and save their packed food for when there was nothing to hunt. After that he had to
encourage them to skin the rabbits he'd caught, and he mentally thanked Taya for teaching them such a task before their journey.
Now, their dinner was over and they were sitting around the fire, all of them tired and sore, but satisfied.
"How far do you think we've come?" Raya asked Kabarak, and the dragon paused.
That is something I cannot tell, as I was in my cramped travelling compartment most of the day. That will not be the case tomorrow, however. I refuse. I do know though from my
observation while hunting, that we are nowhere close to other living humans. We are very much alone, which is good. Our direction is on point, but I do not know how long it will
take us to get to the next town. Hopefully our sense of distance will heighten, or we will be very much caught off guard when we pass civilization.
Raya raised an eyebrow at his long response. "You don't even have a guess of how far we went?"
The dragon turned his head to stare at her, and she held up her hands in defense.
"Alright, never mind. Sorry I asked. So, now what?"
"I think Kabarak should tell us everything he needs to tell us, especially what he knows about Taya's decision to let this happen to her." Sasha replied, her tone almost angry.
Kabarak's jaws cracked loudly on the bone he was chewing on, and both girls jumped at the noise.
I don't appreciate that tone any more than Taya would, Sasha. You are just sore because you believed her when she said she was fine yesterday. But you are right; it is time for me
to tell you everything.
He scooted the bone fragments away from him and curled up closer to Taya's side, laying his head on the ground and looking at Sasha and Raya with his green eyes intensely fixed
on them.
You both know that since I was named, Taya's strength began leaving her. At first we thought it was due to stress and lack of sleep, but then she realized that through her link with
Murtagh, which is actually quite strong, she could feel him coming closer to her, and to us. I believe from the time she blocked me from Thorn she guessed something like this might happen. I could do nothing as Murtagh came closer and closer, except help her through it. She spent much of her energy on weaving wards around all three of us, once she
knew we would not be able to leave before Murtagh found us.
At this Raya and Sasha gaped at him, but he continued without pausing.
This made her very weak, obviously, but it accomplished what she needed it to, which was extra protection around us if something was to befall her. She knew yesterday morning
that Murtagh would arrive that day, so when Colt and Dierik invited you to dinner, she saw that opportunity and made you take it. What better way to get you both out of the picture
and away safely for enough time? She didn't think Murtagh, or Galbatorix would kill her. She'd caused Galbatorix too much grief to merit a quick death. What neither of them
realized or knew was her connection to you, and her bonding with me. She is counting on us to get her to the Varden, more specifically to Eragon Shadeslayer and Saphira
Bjartskular.
"Did she honestly think that he would do anything for her after the way she rejected him?" Sasha asked incredulously, catching the other two off guard.
Explain, Sasha.
"It was only a few weeks ago that Eragon was here and somehow ended up at the Tempest, and when he asked her to travel with him to the Varden, she refused in a very slighting manner. Do you think he's just going to heal her after that?"
"Now wait a second." Raya frowned at her cousin. "What makes you think he won't? She's the Last Rider, for goodness sakes! She told him the time wasn't right for her to leave.
That was the truth, although now I wish we had left with him. He couldn't push the subject because he was surprised by her refusal. Besides, he's the free Dragon Rider. Peace is his
primary goal."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means that he would have no peace from anyone if he didn't save her life. And he can't afford not to."
"What if his business had taken two more weeks? Or what if they had stayed in Dras'leona longer? He could have stopped Murtagh and none of this would have happened! But no, he
had to leave... what if his being in Dras'leona also had to do with Murtagh coming so quickly? Someone could have found out about him being here and"
Sasha! Kabarak snapped, lifting his head and shaking it angrily. Listen to yourself! You are speaking nonsense. I cannot believe you are laying blame on a person who is wholly on
our side, and is one of the only people in Alagaesia who can save Taya! Perhaps we should just leave you behind, we'd probably be better off without having to listen to your moody
nonsense.
Sasha looked as if she'd been slapped in the face, and Kabarak slowly lowered his head back to the ground and said softly,
Enough of this. It is time to rest.
They heard the sadness in his tone, and Sasha suddenly stood up.
"Where are you going?" Raya asked with concern as Sasha walked away, out of the firelight.
"I'll be back." Was Sasha's reply, and Raya looked back at Kabarak as if for help, but the green dragon had closed his eyes. Raya sighed and lay down on her back, looking up at the
stars, thinking. Surely that wasn't all Kabarak had to tell them, but with the way the conversation had gone… well, Raya hoped she was right.
The Black Morass Page 87