For Alagaesia: 43. Distress and Solace

As hours in Du Weldenvarden passed into days, Eragon started feeling more and more peaceful. The forest seemed to absorb his worries into itself leaving him fresh and calm. The fact that he could now speak frankly to Saphira about anything and everything like old times was another reason for his peacefulness. Her presence in the darkest confines of his mind which was wounded beyond healing was like a balm. Further, having Arya by his side always was new to him. Only on a few occasions before this had he had such moments with her. In fact, it was only when they had returned from the village of Eastcroft to the Varden camp that they had spent time together alone. All the other times like when Arya took Eragon to Ellesmera, the first time, there was Orik or others with them. Only the days when he had walked with her through the tree-lined streets of Ellesmera were the exceptions. Now, though, Arya was alone with him for days on end but for Saphira - he would have it no other way. If this was to be his life for the rest of eternity, then so be it. Even though, he won't have Arya in the way he loved to have her, he would have her as his true friend.

All these factors combined together gave him peace. He didn't talk much to Saphira and Arya. But the silence was comfortable unlike when he had to hide his secrets from them. After reluctantly leaving the secluded, shaded, green shores of the waterfall-pool, vowing in their minds to return to the spot again one day, if only to spend some time in peace, they decided to go to Osilon first. They chose the city because it was near where they were and because it was the city to which Arya had been taking Saphira's egg to, when Durza attacked her and her guards.

On their way to Osilon, Eragon noticed a slightly charred and deformed portion of land among a well-forested area. He wondered what it was.

'There lies the accursed spot where Arya and I were ambushed.', Saphira said in answer to his unasked question, her mind filled with fierce anger. Eragon could then, somehow feel Arya's lingering gaze on the spot. But for that look, Arya seemed perfectly neutral and unaffected. But as the seconds passed by, Eragon could feel the sorrow that oozed from her mind. It was one of the very few moments when he had seen the vulnerable side of Arya.

'How much would she have cared for her friends if the place of their fall could evoke such a reaction from her?', he thought. Jealous feelings crossed his mind for a fleeting moment. Embarrassed, he pushed it away firmly. But one look at her face brought a strange and strong desire - to envelope Arya in his mind and not allow any misfortune to befall her ever again - to his mind. Saphira didn't stay long above the spot, instead choosing to increase her speed.

"Could you drop me down there for a while, Saphira?", Arya asked all of a sudden. Her voice didn't carry any emotion. She just stated her request in the most plain tone, she had ever uttered a word.

"Would it be a good idea, Arya?", Eragon found himself asking without giving any thought to what her reaction to such a liberal, out-of-comfort-zone question.

"I want to pay my respects to my comrades.", Arya's voice betrayed no emotion. Eragon fell silent, content with the fact that Arya considered him friend enough to reply to a too-personal question dutifully. Saphira had her own words of warning to Arya, but the elven princess was staunch in her stance. Saphira turned on her head and lowered steeply. She landed a little away from the clearing created by burnt down trees.

Arya got down from Saphira's back and silently walked towards the clearing. Eragon stayed back, not wanting to get in her way when she reminisced on her days before he had met her. When she reached a certain place in the clearing, Arya knelt down on the ground. She was perfectly unmoving for a few minutes that anyone who hadn't seen her walk to that spot, would mistake her for a statue. Then a small shaking of her shoulder notified Eragon of that something wasn't right with her. But he couldn't decide whether to go to her or wait for her to come back. Eventually, he decided that he would go to her. He felt that she needed someone's support at such an emotional time. He remembered how she had comforted him when he had openly wept before Brom's home at Carvahall.

So he walked up to her as discreetly as possible. When he reached near her though, he could hear her soft sobs. That sound woke something in him. Arya had been crying. He walked the remaining distance to her hurriedly. He didn't have any second thoughts in touching her shoulder in way of telling that he was there. Arya didn't respond to him. So he squeezed her arm slightly. Now Arya did turn to him. Her cheeks had streaks of tears. She still didn't say anything to him, but the sight of him seemed to have brought her back to the present.

Without any prompting, Arya walked back towards where Saphira was waiting for them. Her steps were unusually slow. It seemed as though she was leaving the spot reluctantly. Eragon followed her quietly not wanting to speak something about her companions and bring her more pain. But he felt the need to comfort her strongly. He couldn’t stand the sight of Arya looking vulnerable and broken. So he drew level with her and after a slight hesitation, took her hand in his. She didn’t protest, but rather turned towards him and locked eyes with him. Her gaze was distant, but Eragon could feel the gratitude that radiated from her deep, sad eyes.

But moments later, she turned away from him and looked back at the clearing that they had just left. She didn’t try to shake his hand off, though. In fact, he could feel her hold on his hand tighten when she looked at the still-deformed part of the forest. He was glad that he could atleast give her some comfort in her pain, even if he couldn’t isolate her entirely from her pain as he wanted to.

Eyes still fixed on the clearing, Arya said as if to herself, “I wronged them.” Eragon tried to look into her face, but she avoided him and continued looking at the clearing.

“I should have died with them.”, she said again in the same tone after a period of silence.

“NEVER say so, Arya”, Eragon said forcefully, making her look at him sharply. She released herself from his hold and looking straight at his eye said clearly, “I deserved to die with them, Eragon.”

“Why do you say so?”, Eragon asked, still angry that such thoughts should enter Arya’s mind.

“I was cruel.”, she replied but gave no more explanation. Eragon waited for her to expand on her reply, but the explanation never came.

By then, they had reached near Saphira and the dragon who was silent until then said, ‘Don’t force her to reply, Eragon. She will do when she feels like it. These are her secrets afterall.’ Then she addressed Arya, ‘But hear me, O, alfa-kona, you deserve to live the life of the highest order, not die.’

Arya lifted her head to look at Saphira, reverently. Then she sighed heavily and as if deciding on something nodded her head and said, addressing both dragon and rider, “Faolin was my dearest friend. You wouldn’t understand what he meant to me if I don’t tell you this. I, being the daughter of the Queen, had the fortune of being the student of Shur’tugal Oromis. But, as he did to you, Oromis did not teach me swordplay beyond a level and made me practice my swordplay with Faolin, a master swordsman. Faolin was kind to me and didn't stand away from me for being the princess like the others. He would spend time with me when I felt alone and left out when my mother was immersed in her duties. We spoke of the world we lived in and the changes it had undergone in the years following the fall of the riders. Soon, we found that both of us, despite our age gap – he was much older than me – had so much in common. Both of us craved to defeat the evil that had befallen this land and condemned the way of our people: ignoring the spreading evil and pursuing their own personal interests as if nothing had happened; as if my father wasn’t dead; I more so than him for when he condemned, I wanted justice; I wanted revenge.”

There was a wild fire in Arya’s eyes when she said this and it seemed as if she had let her emotions show through unintentionally. She seemed to notice it too for she paused for a while and started again in a calm, more-Arya-like way, “So when Brom – your father – came to my mother with the request of stationing a permanent ambassador of the elves at the Varden headquarters in Farthen-Dur, I vowed to take the place and help the Varden in their fight against Galbatorix. But when everyone including my mother and Oromis opposed my decision, I was heartbroken. But Faolin stood by me; he consoled me and single-handedly brought me back from the dreadful chasm into which I had fallen in my anger and frustration. And although, he didn't accept my choice personally, he supported me for my sake. Not even my mother and Oromis-ebrithil did that for me.”

Arya paused for a while; large tears had gathered over her eyes. But her face was perfectly smooth, never reflecting the pain in her eyes. She continued, now in a slightly higher pitch than before, “When my mother banished me from her presence - renounced me – he still was there for me. He supported me, defying the queen’s orders and provided me space in his home to stay, when even the lords and ladies of Ellesmera, reverent and afraid of their queen turned a blind eye on me. From then on, whenever, I went to Ellesmera, I stayed with him in his home. He was the only solace for me in my home-town. My mother was just THE QUEEN for me.” Her eyes had taken a dreamy look, probably thinking about her past. With Faolin. The thought still irked Eragon, although, his opinion of the elf had risen a hundred times to what he had before Arya narrated the elf's part in her life.

Arya reminiscing on the bitter-sweet past of hers, continued almost dreamily, "During the forsworn attack of the city of Tarnag, I faced two of the forsworn: Kialandi and Sakuni. I barely got away with my life from that fight: they were too strong for me to battle against alone. When Faolin heard of that, he offered to go with me wherever my duty took me. But I didn't want him to come with me. Having seen the terrors of battle, I was afraid for his life. But he was stubborn. He spoke with my mother and got her permission and order to be my personal guard. From then on, he accompanied me always - my only friend in the entire world. He saved me from certain death more than once always risking his life for my safety. Together we took down Kialandi and her accursed dragon thus avenging Oromis, whom Kialandi had tricked into losing and tortured during the fall. And when Saphira's egg was recovered from Galbatorix, Glenwing joined us to protect the egg. The next fifteen years, it was just the three of us and the dragon egg, always together, always travelling. As the years passed, I just couldn't imagine a life without Faolin. He was everything for me: my true friend, caring brother, protecting father and the lost mother."

Arya fell silent then, her eyes fixed on the clearing that was now a fair way away. "And I let him die right before my eyes.", she said still looking at the clearing. Eragon who had stayed silent all the while, listening to Arya most respectfully, now said, "It wasn't your fault, Arya. You stayed alive and avenged him. Durza is dead, Arya. Faolin would be proud of what you have done."

"Yes, he may be. But that doesn't excuse my cruelty towards you.", Arya said in a flash, almost in a embarrassed tone.

"What do you mean?", Eragon asked unable to understand what she meant by 'being cruel to him'.

"You considered me a friend, Eragon. But, I in my mad rage to avenge Faolin, saw you only as a tool. A device who could be used to avenge the death of my dearest friend. Faolin would be ashamed of me. And you certainly didn't deserve such treatment. You have been afterall, as true a friend as Faolin ever has been, albeit in your own way. I wanted to protect you, yes. But that was because you were the cause for which Faolin had died: I didn't want his death to be useless. Who in this world could be more cruel than me? Not even Galbatorix. Would you ever forgive me, Eragon?", Arya asked almost pleadingly although Eragon could also detect the reluctance in her voice when she said this.

He didn't have to think of a reply for there was nothing for him to reply: although the fact that Arya had seen him as nothing more than a tool to be used hurt him, he was glad that she now thought him, her close friend. Having known the life of Arya, how would he ever hold her guilty of considering him a tool? He was afterall just 'some' human to her when he first met her, albeit a rider - a young human rider. To her, he would have been just like the young soldier he heartlessly murdered in the empire despite all his pleas to leave him alone - an object that held no importance to her life except that he was a dragon rider.

"There is nothing to forgive, Arya.”, he found himself saying spontaneously, “If I were in your place, I would have done the same. If there is anybody who should be pardoned then it is me: I mindlessly asked you things, before I knew anything about you. I would imagine that I was just attracted to your beauty back then.” He wanted to continue. He wanted to say that now that he knew her past, he was much more in love with her than before, but he was afraid that such a confession would bring more pain to Arya, who considered him a deep and true friend – she would even take it as a betrayal of her trust. So he stopped at that abruptly.

Arya looked slightly uncomfortable and didn’t give him any reply. She looked away from him and after a long while said, “You did no wrong. You were young and inexperienced.”, in a cold distant voice.

Eragon was happy. So happy that he couldn’t control a slight upward curve of his lips. He hadn’t expected Arya to respond, much less say that everything was forgotten and well. Further, her words: ‘you were’ indicated that his ‘young’ days were over. He could find no fault in those words of Arya for she was right. He was indeed, young and naïve when he had pursued her. Looking back at those days, although the blood-oath celebration was just over an year ago, brought to his mind only an untested, inexperienced image of him trying to prove that he was older than he was – just because he had suffered a shade and a few most painful deaths. That Eragon was nothing like what he was now: a battle-hardened, secretive, self-actualised, broken yet defiant man, elf, rider or whatever: he didn’t care.

But he also felt indescribably sad at the same time: Arya had symbolically said to him that his pursuing her was still wrong in her eyes, even if she had forgiven him for that. But the sadness didn’t incapacitate him for he was prepared to face this truth always: he had been living with it for two years. But for all that, he could not think of anything to reply to Arya.

‘Won’t you say something?’, Eragon asked Saphira.

‘It is not my place, little one. This is for you both to work out. She has talked of her past to us for the first time and it seems she has suffered so much more than we had imagined. It hasn’t just been Durza’s torture that has been tormenting her as we had thought, but rather her whole life. She has spent her life with no true companion other than Faolin and she had been forced to go through the mortifying experience of seeing him die. As a friend of hers, you and I can comfort her but about the matter that you spoke of at the end, I have nothing more to say than what I have said before: you have my blessing if ever you could win her over.’, the dragon answered saintly.

Eragon smiled slightly at Saphira. She had completely avoided the topic of his discussion: a reply to Arya’s words, instead giving him views and conclusions that he had arrived at much earlier. Anyhow, hearing her speak something about his conversation with Arya made him feel relaxed. Secrets of such magnitude would increase the darkness that was already spread across his mind, if not shared. He knew how hard and cold people tended to become when pressed with such secrets for he himself was living proof – just a day ago, he had such unshared terrible secrets locked away in his mind.

Still finding nothing to say, Eragon simply nodded his and asked, “Shall we leave for Osilon, Arya?”

“We may.”, she said. The relief in her voice and face was palpable. She was glad to leave the highly uncomfortable confessions she had made behind and concentrate on what she had been doing all these years to hide away from those secrets: strive to achieve the downfall of Galbatorix.

As Saphira rose into the skies, carrying Eragon and Arya, Eragon had a feeling that Arya might even curse herself for having told so much about her to him. It simply seemed inconceivable that Arya would reveal her life’s story to Eragon, or anyone for that matter. But he was also aware that she had told all that merely to justify her initial treatment of him – again a fact that she could have kept to herself. She hadn’t actually meant to reveal her past to him. But he was glad that she did for he now knew how light and good one would feel when the burden of secrets had left their mind. And he wished nothing but good for Arya.

Author's Note:

Hurrah!! Arya's relation with Faolin. A constant muse of anybody who needs to write a Eragon/Arya story. I have seen people make Faolin a evil elf who used Arya's affection for his own benefits. Some had gone on to show how Arya and Faolin shared many a beautiful lovemaking experiences. Others have talked of the tragic loss of Faolin, Arya's trusted lover. But something in those things didn't feel right to me: Arya's talks about Faolin in Eldest and Brisingr have made it clear that she shared a deep relationship with him. But I didn't think it was something of the 'lover' sort of thing. It felt out of character for Arya. Maybe I am wrong. But for me it was. So I came up with this. I liked this version. Noble Faolin: Arya's deepest and trustworthy friend. Hope you too do.