The Wayward Son

Saphira cast a big shadow on the hill, where Arya saw Eragon taking shelter from the hot summer morning that was their last day together. He was sitting on the grass, legs stretched forward, leaning back on his elbows, his strong arms were bare in his short-sleeved shirt. He had his eyes closed, enjoying the breeze that was blowing in his face, brushing his hair back. His pale skin was gleaming softly in the morning light. He laughed at something Saphira said, what made the skin around his eyes wrinkle a little, in a charming and charismatic way. Even from that distance, her elven eyes were able to perceive his glory. Arya sighed, he looked beautiful.

Fírnen was buzzing in her mind with merriment, as they were flying together to meet the other pair.

They both do. Beautiful creatures, indeed.

Arya smiled. Since Fírnen hatched for her and even before meeting Eragon, he got enchanted by the image of the sapphire dragon and her Rider he saw in Arya's mind. He wanted more than anything to meet them. Maybe because it was surrounded by her own affection for them and the expectation of meeting the only female of his kind, but Fírnen loved them from the start. He would frequently fill her mind with images of both of them, usually together, but it wasn't uncommon to watch as memories of Saphira or Eragon alone would appear behind her eyes. His favorites were very simple ones, not the ones of great glory in battle or undeniable skills. Those memorable deeds he let to people who didn't know them like he did. Fírnen loved to remember them in a calm scenario, with soft expressions. Saphira looking ahead at the horizon with Arya by her side, the dawn just ahead and the first rays of sun making her scales gleam in infinite blue stars. She was a lot smaller then, but looked fierce and majestic as always. Arya smiled. She knew why he chose that memory. It was because in addition to her mesmerizing beauty, the blue dragon and Arya had just had an important conversation on their way to Ellesméra from Farthen Dur that would bind them together. She had never mentioned it to Eragon and believed Saphira never had as well.

Another memory Fírnen cherished immensely was the one from Roran and Katrina's wedding ceremony. He would show her the part when the doves Arya had enchanted carried a crown of flowers and placed it on Katrina's head. Eragon's surprised face would always bring joy to her dragon, and she suspected he had altered the memory to show the colors of the twilight dancing around Eragon's figure, surrounding him in an breathtaking frame of light and power.

Don't be silly, that's exactly how you showed me. He resonated in her mind.

Is it really? She asked confused while they approached the hill.

He laughed, his body shaking midair.

Yes, my darling. It really happened that way or that's how you perceived it. But nonetheless, it's a beautiful memory that I keep with me very fondly for when I miss our friend.

She smiled and caressed his neck.

I know. And thank you for showing it to me from time to time. It's one of my favorites too.

She allowed him to continue imprinting the scene in her head. She saw Eragon's surprised expression turning to gratitude when he turned to her and asked if she was the one who had done it. His smile when she confirmed was pure and reminded her of times when she was carefree and joyous, from before the war.

Do you know why this memory is my favorite and why I hold Eragon so dearly in my heart?

She nodded even though he couldn't see with his physical eyes.

It's because of the way he made me feel.

The way he makes you feel. Like a child again, eager to live and learn. No one else does.

Arya took a deep breath and exhaled.

As they closed the distance to the hill, Eragon stood up and Saphira sat on her hind legs sniffing the air. Fírnen landed with a thud, forcing Arya to clench her jaw to stop her teeth from hitting together.

She jumped swiftly off Fírnen's back and went to meet Eragon and Saphira.

"Hello, Eragon, Saphira." She smiled at them and pressed her fingers on her lips, and watched him do the same.

Eragon proceeded to fetch two packages from Saphira's saddle. One was a big wooden cylinder and the other one looked like a book with brown leather cover, bound with green and blue silk laces.

"I wish to pay the bet." He smiled and handed her the book, leaving the cylinder on the ground beside their feet.

The book wasn't voluminous. The cover was no bigger than her open flat hand and it didn't hold more than fifty pages. But it was a beautiful artwork. The leather was decorated with engraved flowers, leaves and branches on its edges, and a well worked handwriting in the Ancient Language marked the title of the book The wind, the sea and the woman.

She looked at him and saw him smiling at her. Arya opened the book and flipped through the pages, catching a glimpse or two of a narrative poem.

"I wish to read it to you sometime."

Her eyes widened. She knew fiction could be written and also read, by rarely out loud, for it required speaking untruths.

"How? Correct me if I'm wrong, but I had the impression it features a female character in first person. It wouldn't be true."

His smile grew larger.

"Isn't it? The beauty of art is to tell the truth even when it appears to be completely made up." He came closer to her and caught the book from her hands. He opened it on the first page and pointed at a verse. She read silently: My story is an everyday story, as true as it can be. She looked up to him and he nodded at her. "Keep going." A marvelous story or an unoriginal story? Maybe just as unique as me.

She started to understand. The story was true, because fit pretty much every individual as long as they believed their story to be worth telling. Everyone believed to have a unique story, but was it really? That was what the character was referring to.

He talked again.

"See, it is true. Maybe it's not my truth in its entirety, but that's the purpose of storytelling, finding someone's truth so true that it could easily be ours. And don't convince me otherwise or I won't be able to read it to you." Eragon gave her the book once again.

He saw his way around the magic of the Ancient Language once more, a spell so powerful that compelled every single being to abide by its rules. How elven of him to speak around in circles; but at the same time, how human of him, to bend the rules so shamelessly.

"You truly are a unique creature." Arya said in a complimentary tone. He laughed and bowed his head slightly.

"I will take it as a compliment."

"You should!"

She studied his brown and warm eyes under a pair of dark brows. "If you wanted you could walk among my people without the fear of being recognized as an outsider." He brushed his moustache with his two first fingers of his right hand, the new habit of his. "But if any of them decided to spend no more than a minute in your presence, they would have to acknowledge your different nature. And it's not a bad thing. My people are strong and wise, magical in its essence, but what we lack, you have in abundance, original and unconventional thinking."

He shifted in front of her and looked a bit embarrassed by her analysis of him. She realized he was not used to her complimentary words toward him neither to her admiration.

"If it's true now, it wasn't always like this, was it? I was small-minded, prejudiced and impulsive."

Arya smiled and put a hand on one side of his face.

"You are too severe with yourself. Yes, you were all of that, but they were the result of ignorance. We've all been there. However, when you were provided with knowledge, even a little bit, you flourished into a creative and brilliant young man."

She frowned and started to pay attention to the different shades of his facial hair, tracing it with her fingers. Some of them, not a lot, were light brown, almost blonde, in the middle of all of the dark ones. There were even a few red ones. They looked like a perfect mosaic against his light skin tone.

"It's a shame I cannot watch up-close what you will become next." Arya stared up at him and saw his sad eyes.

He forced a smile but it didn't reach his eyes.

"It's the life that we chose." He imitated her and raised a hand to play with her raven black hair that rested on her shoulder. "And the world is a better place because of it. At least that's what I tell myself to find some comfort when the night is quiet and I can't stop myself from thinking of you." His voice was a whisper and it sent shivers down her body. "But I'm grateful. How many farm boys can say they went through all that I've been through?" He smiled faintly. "What other farm boy can say he can have such a beautiful, strong, wise and noble woman within the reach of his fingers? While he is within the reach of hers?" His warm breath brushed her skin.

She was tempted to get closer to him, to break the distance.

Arya observed him fighting to swallow something painful in his throat.

"I swore I wouldn't ask for more, and I won't. But I wished you promised me one thing as well."

It was only fair that she would give in to at least one request of his. So, she nodded, and he turned to speak again.

"Promise that after you're gone you will not retreat, that you will not take back all that's been said and done between us. If I can't ask you for more, then you can't offer me less."

She shook her head and smiled gently.

"I wouldn't do that."

Eragon didn't seem so sure though.

"They will pressure you. They will ask you questions and make you feel uncomfortable. Away from me you will see how preposterous a relationship with me looks like."

Arya felt Fírnen stir inside their bond. He wanted her to swear to Eragon that she was willing to be with him. But she couldn't do it. Not so soon. And that was because Eragon was right. Her counselors would try to meddle and advise her on the contrary direction. The opposition would try to use it against her. In reality, a relationship between them was preposterous. There was no reason for them to be together. None. However... How could she take back everything they lived together? No one in the world was closer to her apart from her dragon. She would not retreat. The ground they conquered she would defend, at all costs.

Arya grabbed his face with both hands very firmly.

"Listen to me. I said more than once that I trust you to do what's right. Now it's your turn to show some faith in me." His eyes widened and he tried to say something, as to defend himself and tell her he did have some faith in her, but she was faster. "I will not take it all back. We are what we are, it won't change. At least not for the worse, that I can promise."

He nodded faintly, finally believing her.

"And maybe one day, it can change for the better." She said with a soft smile.

"But not today, right?" His eyes were pleading.

She hated herself for keeping them floating on the surface, without never swimming into deeper waters. And she hated that he kept creating these situations where she had to refuse him.

Arya… Fírnen called with sweetness. Don't beat yourself up. You have already taken the first step. How did you help me to fly? Did you pushed me off the cliff or you gently held me up so I could grow accustomed to the height? A thought of understanding passed through her mind, but he didn't stop. Showing love, true love, doesn't come naturally. It means great sacrifices, a selfless act. You already started holding yourselves up so you grow accustomed to the height before jumping off the cliff. You're good for now if you don't want to commit.

Eragon didn't wait for her to say anything.

"It's all right. I know it's not the right time." With that he got out of her touch and caught the cylinder he left on the ground before giving her the book. "I have a present for both of you. I imagined you will have a great use of it."

Eragon looked from dragon to Rider as he distanced himself. "Well, come on. Don't you want to see it?" He waved his hand so they would join them on a plain patch of grass where a big flat boulder lay. He opened the wooden case that was as long as his stretched arm and from its inside he retrieved a big rolled up parchment.

When he unrolled it on the flat surface she gasped from its size. If one side was as long as his stretched arm, the other one was as long as his both open arms, from fingertip to fingertip. There she saw a map. But it wasn't just a map, it showed every city and every village, with symbols of their most valuable products, like animals and plants, all drawn with care. He painted different terrains with different colors and added information about their fauna and flora, both in drawing and in written text. It was Alagaësia the way she had never seen before.

She looked at him and saw expectant eyes.

"I figured you would want it to teach the Riders to navigate Alagaësia, also how to get here in safety. Not all of them are completely capable of doing so without losing their way." He chuckled, and she remembered that more than one of their students got lost in the way to Mount Arngor.

"It's amazing!"

It really is amazing, Shadeslayer. You did a great work.

"Thank you, Fírnen. A compliment about my ability of crafting a map coming from a dragon, the race that watches it all from the sky, means a lot." Eragon smiled when the green dragon blew a warm cloud his way.

Arya traced the route he drew on the map for the dragons to follow when travelling east. She followed it from Ellesméra to Mount Arngor. From her home to his. And suddenly they didn't seem so far away from each other. Coming back felt more and more certain than ever.

She noted he added the hill on the map. There was no particular reason why he would do that, it was a small cliff, unimportant, but she traced it with her fingertip as well. Above the tiny drawing of the hill, there was its name. She didn't know what to say.

Arya looked at him with a surprised expression, and anticipating anything she would have to say, he spoke. "So you could have some kind of familiarity when looking east and wanted to come back." He shrugged in humility.

Arya had wonderment in her eyes.

"I didn't need it, I already wanted to come back." She whispered to his joy.

From that moment, the small hill by the Edda River would be called Tialdarí Hill, a piece of her home so far away from home.

They spent a little more time on the hill. He told her that every morning before leaving his chambers to start his day, he would work on her poem. It didn't take long to write it all, but crafting the cover was a big endeavor. To accomplish his goal, he asked Rílven to help him, the most talented leather craftsman he knew, despite being an elf. Rílven looked for a good portion of leather from a dead deer he found in the woods near the mountain and instructed Eragon on how to engrave the patterns he wished on it. It wasn't easy to become as good as Rílven, but it was easy enough to create a decent drawing. Arya would have to forgive him about his mediocrity on leather craftsmanship.

He also showed every single detail featured in the map, that served more like a guide. Eragon was delighted that they seemed impressed with his work. Even Saphira, who watched him creating it from scratch, displayed surprise. It took him many months to finish the map, and he was extremely proud of it.

The rest of the day Eragon and Arya spent under the trees by the Edda River at the foot of the hill. It was a beautiful sward of grass where he laid a blanket and they sat to eat and talk. Saphira and Fírnen flew away to enjoy the last scraps of time they had together.

Eragon told Arya about his plans for that place, the verdant field by the river. He wished to build a garden, a big one, of flowers and fruit trees. And maybe raise horses like the magic ones from Du Weldenvarden. She agreed it was good idea and stated that she would like to see it next time they met. He assured her that it would be ready for her next visit.

The lazy afternoon was a perfect goodbye. The perfect last day of their companionship. Eragon felt the warm breeze mess his hair, but he didn't care, it was a good sensation, ideal to block the pain of the farewell. He closed his eyes to enjoy the feeling, but felt Arya's hands on his shoulders, pulling him to her. She carefully brought his back to rest on her chest and circled her arms around him, like she was cradling a young child. He felt safe inside of her embrace and almost felt like dozing off, if she hadn't started to trace his ear and neck with her nail.

Eragon flinched and laughed.

"Stop! It tickles." He said amid the laughter.

Arya laughed as well and retreated her hand. They stayed silent for a while, enjoying that sweet embrace, until Eragon brought up a matter he's been willing to discuss with her.

"I was wondering..." He started. "If you could you do me a favor?"

"What is it?" The fact that she didn't say yes amused him. Cautious as ever, Arya wouldn't commit to something she wasn't capable of understanding completely.

"I was thinking that Avelina should go with you to Ellesméra. She's far too advanced in her studies and still two years away from graduating. There's nothing left for me to teach her and Runalla that you and Fírnen can't do it yourselves. They already know about the Eldunarí and advanced magic. Avelina's skills with the sword are only comparable with Renir's, and honestly that's the only area where he surpasses her."

Arya stirred, and without seeing her face he could tell she was intrigued.

"She's welcomed in our city whenever she wishes to come, so is Runalla. But why do you ask that?"

Eragon sighed.

"I want to separate her from Renir for some time, a year maybe. He's too destructive right now, and I fear that if she stays within his reach she will get terribly hurt and forget about him."

Her hand patted on his chest and she said amused. "Aren't you a romantic?"

He laughed a little.

"It's not about the romance, although I am a helpless romantic, you know well." Eragon was serious again. "He needs all the help he can get. And she is the only one that has some effect on him. She can't give up on him, or I fear he won't have anyone else by his side. Also, Avelina is the oldest human student Rider, people will have great expectations about her. She can't break. And of course, I don't want her to get hurt."

Eragon waited as Arya pondered. Deep down, he knew she was as compassionate as he was, and rescuing people from terrible fates was something they shared.

"Of course. If she agrees, she can come with us. Now, are you sure this is the best decision?"

"I'm positive. He will be mad at first, but he's always mad, so..." He laughed again and she followed.

"I hope it works." Arya said in his ear, which made his body shiver.

Eragon swallowed and nodded, almost forgetting what they were talking about.

"Aye, me too."

Fírnen and Arya said their farewell early morning in the next day at the main hall. It was formal and bureaucratic, the way a queen and an elder should be treated. The population of Arngor got to their usual activities as soon as Rider and dragon headed to the outside, followed only by Eragon and Saphira.

There, where nobody was looking, she stepped close to him and enlaced him in an affectionate embrace. She caressed his hair and the back of his neck. Then she backed away, but didn't go very far, staying inside his arms, apart just enough to cup his cheeks with her hands. They stared into each other eyes, and he saw sorrow. She bit her lips, a failed attempt to keep them from trembling.

"Maybe you could stay." He whispered unsure, looking away from her beaming pair of green eyes.

He expected her to be annoyed at his insistence and leave without another word. Instead, she whispered back at him.

"Maybe…" He looked up to stare at her. "Maybe one day, Rider. One day."

That was enough to break his heart even more. He nodded and tightened his arms around her waist. Without closing her eyes, she came so close he could hardly focus on her features. Light as a feather, she brushed his lips with hers, in a sweet caress.

With that, she let go of him and turned to leave.

His goodbye got stuck inside his throat and he wasn't able to say it. Perhaps, it was for the best, for he feared he would tumble to the ground if he had to speak what he least wanted to say in the whole world. Goodbye.

Arya never looked back. She never waved. And like that she was gone, on Fírnen's back, into the skies of summer, not to be seen again for the next ten years.