For Alagaesia: 69. Two bundles of joy

‘I cannot feel him!’, Saphira complained for the umpteenth time. She had been going on about it ever since the trees below them began to grow taller and larger than any in the forest. Eragon was not as worried as her then. But now, when the first homes of Ellesmera came into view, a cold hand gripped his heart. Still, he didn’t lose heart like her. He knew Ellesmera was the safest place for them in Alagaesia. He knew nothing would have happened to them. But the truth remained: they couldn’t feel them. The two who were the closest to their hearts were nowhere to be found. Arya Drottiningu and Vanendra loptkonungr were not in Ellesmera.

“Go straight to the tree house.” Eragon voiced his words aloud in distress.

‘Don’t panic younglings.’ Glaedr comforted them. ‘Arya might have taken the little one to the forest.’

‘But why can’t I feel him? They couldn’t have gone far. They have not yet flown together.’

Glaedr did not reply Saphira. He too was worried.

They reached the tree house that was Arya and Indra’s home and found it locked steadfastly. ‘Where are they?!’ exclaimed Eragon and slammed the tree with his knuckle.

Saphira flew up to the teardrop hole that served as the door for dragons to the house and found that too to be closed.

‘Maybe we should go to the Tialdari hall. They may know where they are.’ Eragon suggested.

Saphira flew away towards the Tialdari hall without even caring to come back to the ground to pick Eragon up. Eragon called after her in vain and began to run on foot towards Tialdari hall, not caring what the watching elves might think of him. As he was running he could feel in the back of his mind, Saphira’s conversation with Niduen who was at Tialdari hall.

“Bjartskular! A surprise indeed! How did the battle go?” Niduen asked good naturedly.

‘Went well enough. Now tell me, where are Vanendra and Arya?’

“I am sorry Bjartskular. I tried to stop them. But they wouldn’t listen.” Niduen sounded dismayed.

Eragon redoubled his speed on hearing this. Something was terribly wrong and he did not want to be left behind by Saphira again. When he took a sharp right turn, Niduen and Saphira came into his view quite instantaneously.

Niduen let out an astonished hiss at his sudden and dramatic appearance, but then composed herself and tried to acknowledge him. But he pre-empted her and asked, “Where did they go?”

Niduen looked so flustered. “Shur’tugal, perhaps, you must rest a while. There is nothing wrong with them if that is what you believe.” she said trying to sound calm.

‘Tell us where they are elf woman.’ Saphira almost shrieked.

Niduen’s face contorted painfully. Then she said in a brittle tone, “Silthrim.”

“Silthrim? Why? When? Did they fly together?” Eragon was so anxious for answers that he never gave Niduen a chance to address his queries.

‘Hatchlings, Control yourselves. Let her have a breather. Elves are not accustomed to confrontations of this kind. And it is not becoming of you to lose your composure with a friend. You are blasting her with too many questions.’ Glaedr intervened and covered both their minds in a warm blanket of care.

Glaedr’s calming presence silenced Eragon and made him think straight. Saphira though growled at Niduen as if she were an enemy who had kidnapped Indra.

“My lady, I apologize for our rude behaviour. But you must understand that we are anxious to know the whereabouts of our friends.” Eragon apologized, dipping his head slightly. Niduen observed him keenly, sighed and nodded her head sideways as if disapproving his abrupt change of stance. She huffed again, making Eragon restless.

“I have heard about the hastiness of the humans but I have never seen it in person until yesterday when message came from Silthrim that your cousin Katrina wanted to see you and that she was expecting her baby in a day’s time.” Niduen riddled in the way of the elves.

Eragon struggled to keep a straight face. He was, once again, losing patience. Besides, the thought of Katrina and her child made him even more anxious. But he knew this was how Niduen, or most any elf, spoke and so remained silent.

“I never thought that Arya would take after humans although I should have seen it coming: she has lived more among them than among us. Anyway, when she got the message she insisted on going to Silthrim in your stead and despite all my warnings against doing so went away taking Vanendra with her.” Niduen finished.

Eragon was dumbstruck. Arya had gone to Silthrim on his behalf. Her first flight, which should have happened under Saphira’s watch over a little distance, had now been a ride to Silthrim, alone without anyone to watch over. On one side it made him feel overjoyed that Arya considered him and his family worthy enough to render her helping hand but on the other, it made him despair. What if she was not able to balance on the saddle and injured herself while in the deep reaches of the forest outside anyone’s help? He shuddered at the thought.

Niduen cleared her throat to get his attention. He found it odd. Elves and particularly, the ones like Niduen never did such things. But when he heard what she said next, he thought it more than appropriate.

“My cousin and I were good friends in her childhood, Shur’tugal. But then she chose a path that I did not approve and a wall of indifference grew between us. But, I knew that if somebody deserved loyal companionship, it was she. Yet she never got such people except for one. Faolin was kind to her and his death shattered her. I saw Arya turn from a naughty lovable girl to a sombre cold creature incapable of laughing. She never even spoke to me during her last stay here during Agaeti Blodhren. But this time, when the three of you came back with Vanendra, I saw something that made me wonder: my cousin let herself be comforted and protected by someone. Such a thing has not happened in over seventy years, Shur’tugal. Not even Faolin could do what you have done to her.”

Niduen paused and looked Eragon directly into the eyes. Eragon waited with bated breath for what the elf still had to say, but he held her eye unflinchingly. The tension was too much to bear though and he bristled. Saphira kept her eyes trained on the elf lady and made no sound whatsoever.

Even Niduen looked unwilling to continue the intensely personal topic. It was clear in her eyes. Her courage to continue was faltering. She cleared her throat again and restarted tentatively, “I do not know of your relationship with Arya, Shur’tugal. And honestly, I don’t care what it is. But I can see that she trusts and cares for you like she does for none else.”

She gulped once as if her body was revolting against the conversation she was having with Eragon. “I have heard of the fickleness of the human mind.” she murmured and then added hastily and rather too loudly, “I only ask you to not betray her trust.”

Eragon squared his shoulders as if readying himself for a fight. The insult to humankind hurt him. What did she say? Fickle, yes, fickle. Was Brom with his single minded determination to terminate the tyrant’s rule fickle? Or perhaps it was Roran with his dedication and love for his wife. He laughed within himself; a forlorn laughter devoid of mirth. Elven prejudice runs even deeper than the human one. But he decided to let the comment pass for he reasoned that the real culprit was hiding behind the strong walls of Uru’baen. Perhaps, one day Niduen will see the humans for what they really are: strong and trustworthy people.

But when he considered the elf’s words deeply, one thing disturbed him: the assertiveness with which she spoke. Neither he nor Arya had ever given Niduen or anyone for that matter, a reason to think what Niduen said: Arya letting him protect her. ‘Arya will kill me if she hears this.’

“May I know on what grounds did you conclude that Arya let me protect her?” Words flowed out of his mouth before he could stop himself. The next moment he cursed himself for what he had done. His voice had betrayed him. It was too shaky and unsure.

Niduen smiled now and it disturbed Eragon for it was a knowing smile. She then turned away from him and said, “Do not worry, Shur’tugal. You have not behaved out of ordinary in any way. It is just that I know Arya too well to not notice the mild shift in her bearing. For instance, Arya would never have stayed back when her mother was in danger if she did not trust you.”

Niduen looked back at him and her smile broadened.  “Oh, and Eragon, you are sweating all over.”

Oh this woman is even more cruel that Galbatorix.

‘Stop behaving like a child and get on my back, little one.’ Saphira chided. ‘We have far to go yet.’

Eragon decided that it was the best thing to do: run away from Niduen before she said anything more. He jumped into Saphira's saddle in one fluid motion.

Niduen yelped at this sudden action and looked oddly at him. “We are going to Silthrim, my lady.” Eragon explained revelling in the chance he got to change the topic of discussion with Niduen. The previous one was torturous with all the hints and implications regarding his tumultuous relationship with Arya. Hiding his feelings for the elven princess was much more difficult these days than it was in the past especially from the likes of the princess's mother and childhood friends.

“But, you could rest a little while. You have just returned from battle. It is not as if they have gone to war...” Niduen suggested looking thoroughly surprised.

‘We can't rest unless we find Arya and Vanendra safe and healthy.’ Saphira replied calmly and prepared to take off.

“And I am eager to meet my nephew.” Eragon said, his thoughts going toward Katrina and Roran. “Or Niece.” he added as the thrill of seeing the next generation of his family got to his head.

Niduen smiled understanding the joy of meeting a new life. And the next second, Saphira was in the air with a mighty beat of her wing. The ever silent trees of Ellesmera groaned in protest of her hastiness.

“May your journey be fruitful, oh Maha Skulblaka.” Niduen wished straining hard to be heard above the wing-beats of Saphira.

Eragon raised his hand in acknowledgement while Saphira merely grunted. Her thoughts dwelt so far away, dreaming about the first flight of Arya and Indra. She flew non-stop for an hour and a considerable distance now separated them from Ellesmera.

‘Saphira, why don’t we scry them?’ Eragon asked in a flash as soon as the thought occurred to him. ‘You are such a love-struck fool, Eragon’ he scolded himself for not having thought of it before.

‘No, little one, we both are fools. At least you have a reason to justify your foolishness. But me?’

Saphira alighted in a small clearing that was barely large enough for her to fit in. ‘I will have a hard time getting out of here’ she observed coolly.

Eragon looked around, nodded nonchalantly and dug up a little hole on the forest floor that was littered with dry leaves. He willed water up and cast the spell to scry keeping Arya in mind. He was greeted by a black pool. Sighing, he recast the spell this time keeping Indra in mind. Again blackness. He tried Katrina and yet again found nothing but a pitch black liquid. ‘They are well protected, even from us.’

‘Or they are in trouble.’Saphira said. ‘Come Eragon, I don’t want to waste even a second.’

Before Eragon could tie the saddle straps around his legs, Saphira was in the air leaving behind a mess on the floor. The serene clearing was now a mottled mess of brambles and branches. Eragon turned to see Saphira’s right wing and he swore. ‘You are bleeding Saphira.’

‘It is nothing little one. I don’t even feel any pain.’

‘Let me heal you.’

‘No. It will waste precious time. I have flown through worse.’

Eragon nodded. It was true that the scratches made by trees and thorns were nothing compared to the pains Saphira had endured in her short life. Saphira flew well above the tree line not wanting to slow down on any account. The vast expanse of unbroken tree cover below them did not fail to awe Eragon even after staying under their shades for months upon months. Yet he was not able to enjoy the scenery like he did when coming to Ellesmera. His worry for Indra and Arya played heavily on his mind not to mention his anxiety about Katrina. He knew that his cousin was in the care of the best people possible yet he could not silence his heart that beat against his ribs like a caged animal. He let his troubled mind wander through the forest floor searching for any clues that he might collect from it about Vanendra’s passing.

After about three hours of relentless flying, the light began to fade. The sunset came swiftly afterward reminding them that winter was not yet over. And with the night came a strange calm into Eragon’s mind. There was no visible change, but something told him that all was well and that Indra, Arya, Katrina and his little niece were safe at Silthrim.

‘Niece? Where did that come from?’ he wondered.

‘Well, Eragon, have you been taking classes with Angela? When did you become a psychic?’ Saphira poked fun at him. Her tense demeanour was gone, replaced by a leisurely and mischievous countenance.

‘Psychic? You may as well call me a Urgal, my dear Saphira. I am no psychic. It is just a feeling, I guess.’ He tried to quantify the sudden spark of comprehension as a product of his hopes and beliefs. Yet deep down he knew it to be true.

‘Who said you aren’t an Urgal? You are even worse than them when roused.’ Saphira said playfully. When she noticed that he was still in deep thought debating whether the feeling he got was real or not, she said, ‘Little one, I can feel it too. They are all safe and happy now.’

From then on, their flight, although not entirely peaceful was not an uneasy affair. They could enjoy the wind beating on their body and the various sounds the night awoke in the forest. It did not mean that Saphira reduced her speed. In fact, with the new found vigour she flew even faster than before. When the eastern sky showed up the first signs of dawn, they had travelled a good fifty leagues east of Ellesmera. Silthrim was just an hour’s flight away now.

Eragon was reminiscing on the times when he and Roran were children playing around Marian’s legs. He felt as if ages had passed since those days. ‘Of course, an age has passed. Neither mine nor Roran’s parents are now alive. And Roran’s child now breathes the air of Du Weldenvarden.’

He was brought out of his thoughts by the booming roar of Saphira. She had found him. Saphira changed course and flew towards the northern banks of Ardwen lake.

‘He is there, little one. I can feel his presence.’ Saphira blurted out in ecstasy. Her happiness spilled over to him and he laughed loudly and heartily.

Within the next half hour, the lake became visible as a huge blue expanse in the midst of the green cover and the view was truly majestic. Now Eragon too could feel Indra with his mind. The relief that washed over him at that instant was huge. Only now did he grasp the extent to which he had become attached and used to the presence of Indra. The green dragon had unconsciously occupied an irreplaceable place in his heart.

The dragon and rider called out to their friend, companion and comrade, Vanendra in unison. And he replied with equal enthusiasm. Her weariness forgotten, Saphira flew with even more speed towards the very northern end of the lake where they felt Indra. They were met midway by Indra who too had taken to the air to welcome them. The two dragons roared in joy at having found each other. Eragon revelled in the pure joy of being free of all formal restraints and melded his own voice with the roar of the dragons.

The dragons drew closer to each other, looking like two huge diamonds in the golden rays of the morning sun. Eragon laughed out loudly then thinking there was none in Alagaesia more fortunate than him. Watching dragons soar in the sky under a young sun was indeed a sight to behold – neither the enormity of the menoa nor the grandiose of Farthen Dur nor the grace of Ileria could match it. He roared again as satisfaction welled up in his mind.

‘You would make a wonderful dragon, Eragon-vor.’ Indra commented amused. ‘Pity my rider doesn’t get to see this side of you more often. She thinks you are a soft natured man.’

‘Stop making fun of my rider, Indra. Why is it that he should always be the laughing stock among friends?’ Saphira said in a rather amused tone.

‘Well, my dear Saphira, it is you who poke fun at me at every turn. You embarrass me blatantly while the others only imply.’

Indra and Saphira rumbled in laughter agreeing Eragon’s assessment. They alighted on the lake-shore and Eragon climbed down from Saphira’s back. He ran to Indra and hugged the green dragon’s neck affectionately and said softly in his mind, ‘I missed you.’ Indra hummed in response. Saphira placed her neck over Indra’s and scratched his face with her snout.

‘Was your flight here comfortable, Indra?’ Eragon asked releasing the young dragon from his hold.

‘Yes, it was, Eragon-elda. Although we could not enjoy our first flight. We were in a hurry.’

‘Neither could we enjoy ours. We were fleeing from foes when we flew together for the first time.’ Eragon tried to comfort his friend.

‘Yes, the Ra’zac. It is good that you destroyed them. They deserved it for what they did to your uncle and father.’ Indra growled.

‘Did Saphira tell you all this?’ Eragon asked surprised that Indra knew of his story this clearly. He had never spoken about it in detail to the dragon.

‘No. Arya did. She speaks about you often you know.’

Eragon’s ears burned and he could see its tips turn red in the reflection of himself he saw in the clear waters of Ardwen.

‘See... this childish behaviour of yours.... this is what induces me to make fun of you.’ Saphira said exasperated.

‘Arya is no different Saphira. I can hardly believe that she is a hundred years old when it comes to him.’ Indra said pointing his head at Eragon. ‘They are worse than children not knowing what to make of each other.’

Once again, sensing that the conversation was getting out of hand, Eragon decided to do the one thing he knew would save him from further embarrassment: escape from the presence of the dragons.

‘Speaking of children... I think I must be going... I really wish to have a look at my niece now.’ So saying Eragon began running in a southward direction towards Silthrim.

‘Give my blessings to the child, Eragon. I will be there by nightfall to see her myself.’ Saphira spoke in his mind.

‘And mine too. Although I don’t think I can reveal myself to Silthrim. Galbatorix be damned.’ Indra cried out mentally.

Eragon grunted in response concentrating solely on reaching the elven city before noon. The city, by his limited sense of geography, was a good three hours run away for an elf. The desire to look upon his niece had come over him with renewed fervour.

He kept a constant pace and tried his best to not leave footprints on the forest floor for there was no path at all from where Indra and Saphira waited to Silthrim. He didn’t want any curious elf to follow his footprints and find Indra. The secretness of his existence was paramount.

His connection with Saphira let him hear her conversation with Indra even when he was far away from them bodily. Not even the strongest elf could identify the presence of the two dragons from that distance. Yet he could hear them speak as if he were just next to them.

Saphira was asking about his first flight with Arya and was offering lessons about the level of intimacy that can be attained between rider and dragon when in flight. She was curious to know of the saddle that they had used for their flight and was surprised to find that Arya had stolen Saphira’s very first saddle from the crags of Telnair.

‘More like borrowed.’ Indra tried to justify Arya’s actions. ‘Besides she loathed to do it. It was I who forced her into it.’

‘Well, I would have been angry with you if you had not. Because a good saddle is absolutely necessary for the first flight and that was the only saddle that would have fit your size.’ Saphira replied. ‘Anyway, I would like to see that particular conversation. I am sure it must be... fascinating.’

Eragon smiled. It would have been an interesting sight: Arya sneaking into his home to ‘borrow’ a saddle. He let himself be pulled into Saphira’s mind trusting in her inane sense of direction to guide him to Silthrim. And so he listened to Indra.

‘Wasn’t it a bit rude Arya? Cutting Niduen off like that.’ Indra asked.

‘I had to do it, Indra. You do not know my cousin. She would never have let us go if I had but tarried another second arguing with her.’

‘She spoke sense you know. I too don’t think it is right to leave Ellesmera without Saphira or Eragon’s permission.’

‘I don’t want anybody’s permission to do what I think is right.’

‘Well, is it Arya? Is it right?’

‘I don’t know. But it is necessary.’

‘Why?’

‘Because I don’t want Eragon to lose another one of his family.’

Indra had taken extensive precautions to hide the actual emotions from Saphira. Eragon could still feel steel in Arya’s voice. A shiver of thrill ran through his spine. He felt with his mind around himself and found that he was now a lot closer to Silthrim than before. He pushed to his limits to see if he could touch the new born child’s mind. How much ever he tried, he could not distinguish between the various voices he heard in the city. He thought he encountered Arya and Katrina. But he was not sure. Sighing, he delved back into Saphira’s mind.

Indra was telling about the hasty preparations that they had done.

‘What are you searching?’ Indra asked.

‘A saddle for you. Eragon showed me how to make one earlier. But I seem to have forgotten. I am not able to make one by myself.’ Arya answered dejectedly.

‘How will we go without a saddle? I remember Saphira telling something about Eragon’s first flight. She was without a saddle and Eragon’s skin was completely removed.’

‘I have heard that as well.’

‘So what do we do?’ Indra sounded unsure and concerned.

‘I can set some wards to prevent such a thing from happening.’

‘No. That simply wouldn’t do. We will be flying for nearly a day and protecting against such a raw force would zap your energy. And you will not be able to balance without a saddle on.’

‘But there are no saddles in Ellesmera.’ Arya sounded troubled. After a pause she added, ‘Well, not exactly’

‘Not exactly? Oh, I see. It’s in their home.’ Indra said as he read Arya’s thoughts. ‘So what are we waiting for?’

‘Waiting for? What do you mean?’

‘We go and take the saddle.’

‘Of course not. That would be a serious breach of etiquette.’ Arya said in a shrill voice.

‘Do you really believe Eragon and Saphira would be upset with us for this? They don’t expect such formalities from us Arya.’ Indra said softly.

‘But… how… I can’t… do this.’ Arya struggled to give words to her thoughts.

‘I know how you feel, my dearest Arya. But don’t confuse yourself unnecessarily. Trust me. Go there and bring that saddle.’ Indra sounded sympathetic.

Eragon wondered about the vulnerability in Arya’s demeanour that had escaped Indra’s mind despite his sincere attempts to supress the emotions from the vision.

‘I can’t go into his home. You know that.’ Arya seemed to be pleading Indra to understand her quandary.

‘Is he not your closest friend?’

‘He is. But…’ Arya ‘s words were more than enough to demonstrate her indecision.

‘Fine. Let us just think of it this way. It is not you who goes in there. It is me. I will just be using your body. Is that okay with you?’ Indra asked with a hint of annoyance.

‘You don’t have to be angry with me. I will go.’ Arya replied in a haughty voice.

With that Indra stopped the flow of memories. ‘Well well… that was quite a scene to behold indeed. So it is not just my poor rider who feels insecure around your rider. It goes the other way round too.’ Saphira said amused.

‘Did I not tell you that it was the case?’ Indra replied in an equally cheeky tone.

Eragon though was quite bemused. He could not find a reason why Arya should be insecure about their friendship. He spent several minutes trying to quantify Arya’s words. Yet he could not wrap his head around her actions.

Unbidden, thoughts about Arya’s behaviour in the past few months came to his mind. She had accepted that she considered him her closest friend. Yet, whenever the two of them were together alone, she seemed brittle. It was true that she had allowed him to comfort her when she was in pain and had bared her troubled past to him like she had to none other. But then, at times for no reason – it seemed – she would become stiff and cold. He had been frustrated by those moments of immense uneasiness and tension. He tried to link those moments with her reluctance to enter his home. Nothing came of it.

He swore aloud. ‘Why is this woman so difficult?’, he thought privately not even letting Saphira into his mind. And in a flash, the answer came to him. She was afraid of him; of what he would say in the intimate moments that always preceded the tense moments. And she was not wrong to be. More than once, he had come very near to professing his love for her only to be stopped by Arya’s tense actions. ‘She doesn’t love me like I do her. But she wants my friendship and she fears that what I might say will kill our camaraderie.’ Eragon realised with rising pain in his heart.

He diverted his attention back towards Silthrim, Katrina and her child not wanting to inflict his pain upon the new born baby. He could now feel the distance separating him and Saphira and he had been running for at least two hours. He could say that he had entered the realms of Silthrim by the growing size of trees around him. After another half hour’s unrelenting run, he saw colourful flowers adorning the ground. The flowers lined a fading path which he took.

After a few minutes run, the path merged with others coming from several directions and soon he found himself running along a wide road. The tree houses of Silthrim followed soon after and in a matter of ten short minutes he found himself in the middle of the town he had been trying to get to for the last three hours.

He cast his mind about and searched the entire city. Several minds came into contact with his and shirked away hastily. Many elves had come out of their homes to look upon the person who had so blatantly invaded their privacy. But Eragon could not care less about them now. His eager mind was seeking one and only one thing now: a young and tender mind. Saphira asked him through their weakened bond to restrain his enthusiasm. But he ignored her.

Finally, in the far corner of the city he found it. A mind so pure that he could revel eternally in the bliss that the mere contact with it brought him. But the next moment it was replaced by a stinging attack so strong that he caught his head and screamed in pain. Desperately, he brought up his mental defences that had stood even against Galbatorix. But this time he was not sure that he could thwart the attack. Galbatorix was methodical but this attack was raw and there was a hint of the strength of a mother protecting her child in it – and it was that much more powerful. Besides he had not at all anticipated such an attack in an elven stronghold against him.

When he gave up conscious efforts to defend, his instincts took over. His mind began thinking on its own accord: the attacker's strength was completely vested in emotions – he could see that much. Maybe he could use that against the attacker. But before trying anything, he began working on solidifying his defence. His unconscious self brought up the two images that would remain etched in his mind forever even in death: Saphira and Arya. If the attacker wanted to see anything, he or she could see only those two images. When the defences were set, his mind prepared for an offensive. But before he could try anything, the attacker receded a bit and asked, ‘Eragon?’

‘Arya? Is that you?’ He asked back wondering if it was the elven princess or if it was an imposter who was strong enough to imitate her. His face grew hot as another thought entered his mind: Arya would have noticed that he used her image as defence against mental attacks.

‘What on earth are you doing here sneaking around the minds of babies, Eragon? I could have killed you.’ Concern and surprise were the only feelings he could now feel from Arya's mind. If there was some imposter who could do this, then he deserved to break Eragon. But Eragon knew that there were none with such powers in the world.

He struggled to make up an answer. How he had not recognised Arya’s mind when the attack happened, he would never know. But when he reran the whole episode in his mind, he found that the attacking mind had seemed oddly familiar – only a little too raw and uncontrolled. ‘Another side to her that I have not yet seen.’ He thought to himself.

‘I came to see Katrina and her child.’ Eragon managed to say finally which was for the most part true. Arya must have noticed the slight confusion in his mind before answering. But she did not ask anything about it. Just as she never asked anything about him using her image as a mental defence.

Now that he knew where the child was, Eragon ran towards Katrina’s home where he felt Arya’s and the child’s minds. Various flowering trees lined the roads of Silthrim, each more pleasant and beautiful than the other. The city was markedly different from Ellesmera, a fact he was aware already from his earlier visit there. Yet it was in every way equal to the elven capital in stature. Eragon remembered Katrina’s home in Silthrim quite well – a redwood tree house that was built lower than usual and surrounded by a garden filled with colourful flowers which could be enjoyed under the shade of the redwood tree.

When he reached the home, he found Arya waiting outside holding the baby in her hands. He smiled at her happily and raised his hand in greeting. When he reached near her, he dipped his head slightly and addressed her in the traditional elven way. Arya smiled back at him – although she looked nervous. She did not even care to finish the elven greeting. Then he turned his eyes to the bundle of joy in her hands. The baby stared at him with wide eyes. He stared back and made a funny face at it. The baby giggled and raised its hand towards his face. It was easily the most beautiful sight in all of Silthrim. With golden locks like her mothers' and tan colour like her fathers' she was in every way a perfect gift for her parent's love.

He removed his backpack from his back, placed it near the door and bowed his head to bring it closer to the child so that she could touch his face. The baby went straight for his eye. “Ouch!” said he. “You are a violent one. Aren’t you? Just like your father.”

“Yes, I bet she is.” Katrina’s voice came from behind Arya.

“Katrina!!” Eragon raised his head startled only to bump into Arya’s forehead. He realised only then how close he had stood to Arya. “Ow!! I am sorry.” He apologised hastily. He tried to move away from her but the child had caught one of fingers and was in no mood to let go. The baby giggled as if enjoying his situation.

To his embarrassment, Katrina was beaming at him as if he had just kissed Arya. ‘I am going to drown in an ocean of embarrassment because of all these females.’ He thought. He then extricated his finger from the child’s hold gingerly, only to find the baby’s face contort as if in pain. He hastily gave his finger back to the child and looked up apologetically at Arya.

The princess was for her part looking completely out of place. She tried to hand the child over to him and depart. “I must be going now.” she said tensely. She looked so nervous that he thought something was terribly wrong.

When he put his mind into it, the realisation struck him: she felt like intruding on the family during their union and hence was nervous. Eragon caught Arya’s eye and held it for a while, willing her to understand that she was welcome in his family. But that only seemed to increase her agitation and she began to insist upon going. Her whole demeanour was jittery as if she had been put into a cell filled with hot embers.

“Arya, I want you to stay with us.” Eragon said calm and soft. “We are glad and honoured to have you.” She looked at him curiously – perhaps wondering how he read her thoughts. ‘Or perhaps thinking of the best way to curse me.’ Either way he did not care – he just wanted her to understand that he considered her a part of his family.

Even the child began to whimper as Arya took it away from the warmth of her body.  Arya took the baby back into the safety of her arms and the child promptly began to giggle and play with a stray strand of hair from Arya’s head.

“See, she likes you.” Eragon said. His words came out as a whisper unconsciously. Arya looked up at him with a tender expression. He beamed at her thinking how she would be if she was a mother herself – a mother to his children. As soon as the thought came, he turned red in the face and turned away from Arya. As if on cue, Arya too took her eyes off him and began stroking the child’s sides.

Eragon blinked once and concentrated back on the kid. The way it smiled and looked around unconcerned and the way in which it expressly stated its desires – like crying just because he extricated his hand from its hold made him want to turn back into a baby. He caressed its cheeks fondly earning another bout of giggle from it.

“Roran would be so happy to see this child.” He said tenderly still looking at the baby.

“Yes, he was.” Katrina replied. “Although he was more grumpy than necessary. He was angry that he could not be near me during the birth.”

“You spoke to him?” Eragon enquired.

“Arya helped.”

Eragon looked up at the princess and said, “Eka elrun ono”

Arya nodded accepting his gratitude.

“So how was he?” Eragon asked.

“As I said, quite grumpy. But also immensely proud. He jumped for joy when I showed her to him.”

“Have you decided a name for her?” Eragon asked.

“We were hoping that you would help us choose, Eragon.”

“Me? It would be an honour indeed.” Eragon said as his heart swelled in pride and love. His cousins were more than kind on him. For all his help, it was he who brought all the pain upon them in the first place, however unintentional it might have been. The love they showered on him made him feel blessed.

‘Did you ever think of asking about her health, little one?’ Saphira whispered through their barely connected minds.

“Oh, I have been such a fool!!” he exclaimed.

“What happened Eragon?” Katrina asked alarmed at the sudden change in his demeanour. Arya too looked at him, concern etched over her features. Perhaps she was thinking of the battle to which he went away when they separated in Ellesmera. Even the child blinked at him as if asking what the matter was.

“How have you been Katrina? You seem healthy of course. But…”

“But nothing Eragon. I am as I look to you. Hale and hearty. Thank you for asking though” she replied with a smile.

Eragon smiled back. ‘Saphira! You are still able to contact me. I didn’t realise you were in my mind.’

‘It is as it should be Eragon.’ Saphira said. ‘Yes, she is very beautiful. In fact, the most beautiful thing I have ever seen next only to Indra as a little thing.’ Saphira replied his unasked question. Eragon nodded physically.

As if reading his mental conversation with Saphira, Katrina asked, “Eragon, how did you reach here? I mean... Arya said that you and Saphira had gone to assist in battle. Yet you are here but where is Saphira?”

Eragon glanced once at Arya who seemed to know where Saphira was – as she wore a passive expression on her face and then turned back towards Katrina.

“Umm... she had some things to take care of regarding the battle. She will be here by nightfall.” Eragon spoke half-truths. He did not want Katrina to know of Indra after Arya had taken extensive care to keep news of existence away from all of Silthrim. “Don't concern yourself worrying about her. She is more than capable of handling herself. Besides she is in very good company.” So saying he eyed Arya. A mild smile played on the princess's face and he knew that she understood what he meant.

“Okay.” Katrina said looking confused. She was too smart to not notice that he was hiding something from her.

“She and her companion have asked me to bless the child for them until she arrives.”

“Her... companion won't be joining us?” Katrina asked with rising suspicion in her voice.

Eragon swallowed hard. He did not know how far he could tell about Indra to Katrina. “Well, No. He won't be joining us. The battle forbids it.” He said finally feeling as if he was betraying his cousin's trust. But this was not a matter of his interest alone and as such he was not allowed to disclose anything to her.

Arya cleared her throat rather loudly making the two in-laws look at her. “Why don't you rest for a while Katrina? Your baby looks ready to sleep and I have things to discuss with Eragon, you know, regarding the battle.” Arya said with a smile.

“The battle.” Katrina repeated a bit harshly making Eragon wince. The child had indeed fallen asleep in Arya's arms. Katrina raised her eyebrows at the sight of her sleeping baby. She sighed heavily and took the child into her hands and eyed Eragon. “Come in when you have finished your discussion.” She said and disappeared into her home.

Eragon huffed loudly when Katrina was lost to his sight. He hated lying to her however important it was to keep Indra’s hatching under wraps.

“Come Eragon, you need to explain a lot to me.” Arya called out as she walked towards the gardens.

“I sure do.” He muttered under his breath and followed her. When they were sure that they were out of earshot of Katrina, Arya said, “You should have told her about Indra. She is afterall your family.”

Eragon raised his eyebrow at her. “I didn’t because I thought it was best decided by you who are Indra’s rider.”

Arya nodded and said nothing about it further. “What of the battle Eragon? What happened?” She asked.

What she really meant was: Is my mother safe? He could see it in her eyes, the anxiety that one feels only for the safety of one’s family how much ever they loved their country and culture.

Eragon sighed tiredly. Thinking about the battle and the events that followed only made him tired now. “The battle was won… kind of.”

“Kind of? Tell me what happened Eragon.” Concern and fear flitted across Arya’s face.

“Galbatorix was there…” He started saying but was cut off by Arya who cried in horror, “What!?” He was surprised at how easily he read her emotions and thoughts nowadays. He didn’t know if it was she that was more open with him or if it was he who had somehow unlocked the mystery that was Arya.

“Not bodily of course.” He said hastily. “In which case I would not be here – alive and talking to you.” He added darkly.

“Not bodily? You mean… that he took over that poor Murtagh’s body yet again?” Arya asked.

Eragon creased his eyebrows. Poor Murtagh. That was something entirely new. He had thought that she hated the man. “Yes… he did.” He said shortly.

“And you fought him?” Arya asked, her voice trembling.

“I did. But I had a lot of help from your mother.” He said deliberately leaving out the part where Galbatorix had come so close to killing the queen. Judging from how she was taking the news in, it was not a good thing to tell her.

“So you defeated him.” Arya stated although there was more of a question in her tone.

“More like endured.” Eragon replied thinking back how he had been ready to die fighting. “It was your mother who figured out a gap in his wards and used it to throw him away.”

Arya frowned. “She fought too?”

Her question was too direct to skirt around. So he answered as best as he could without alarming her, “Yes, she did and she was the one who defeated him finally.” When he saw that she was eyeing him curiously, he added, “in a way.”

“In a way.” She repeated clearly not satisfied with his answer, but also understanding that he was not going to tell her anything more. “You should have let us come, Eragon.”

“And what? Watch you fight him? You know I won’t let that happen.” Eragon blurted out before he could stop himself. ‘Barzul’ He cursed when he realised what he had said.

Arya glared at him. But said nothing. No helpless female story this time. He sighed relieved.

Wanting to change topic, Eragon said, “Anyway, the outcome of this battle is the real worry.”

“Why? What happened?” She sounded more curious now than afraid.

“The aim of this attack has all along been the capture of elves. And they succeeded in it.”

“What? They captured elves? Didn’t you work on getting them back?” Arya asked her eyes wide. The myriad of emotions that raged on her face was only a fraction of what she felt in her mind – Eragon knew because he had faced the same pain himself just days ago. He wanted to protect Arya from those painful thoughts but he also was aware that she wouldn’t allow him to do so.

Gritting his teeth, he whispered, “No. We couldn’t.”

“Why didn’t you try Eragon? You of all people know what it means.” Arya sounded feeble. It pained him to see her this way.

“I know Arya and I did try. All we could do was track down the captors’ trail till it was visible. And at the end we found the mutilated body of an elf. We decided that it was of no further use to search anymore because it was as clear as daylight that Murtagh met with the captors after an attempted escape by the elves and had taken the two remaining captives to Uru’baen.”

“You yourself tracked their trail and my mother let you do it?” Arya asked suspiciously.

Eragon smiled despite the situation. “You know your mother quite well, Arya. She forbade me or anyone else from trying to rescue the captives. And she had sound reasons to do so too: she feared that it would only result in us being killed or worse captured. But I persuaded Saphira to look for the trail.”

“So they are to rot in Galbatorix’s cells for eternity. Is that what Islanzadi wishes on her subjects?” Arya asked, her eyes flashing in frustration and anger.

“Understand Arya. There is nothing we can do for them now. Galbatorix would be extra cautious after my escape and he wouldn’t let another of such coups to happen. Consider what would have happened if only Galbatorix had been there when you and Saphira came to rescue me. He would have captured the two of you too with no effort at all and all three of us would even now be languishing in his prisons. And heaven forbid, even Indra might have hatched in captivity.” He shivered as he said the words, the truth in them stinging him hard. He could never imagine Saphira and Indra the freest of all beings being caught in prison cells bound by chains or worse taking orders against their will.

Arya stood stiff and still at hearing his words. He had wanted her to understand the horrors of trying to rescue captured souls from Galbatorix’s clutches and he was sure that she understood it now.

“So this is what we are… cowards who would cower away at the thought of facing a tyrant even when our friends need us to stand against him. Worthless beings who deserve to writhe in the pits, the humans call hell.” Arya said sadly. Her shoulders had drooped in defeat. And her face contorted in anguish.

Eragon reached out his hand and took hers into his hold. She looked up at him and he felt as if she bored into his very soul with her eyes. He saw the sorrow and forlornness he felt in her eyes. He squeezed her hand and replied, “Yes, we do deserve to burn in hell. Still, I would prefer that to being in Galbatorix’s cells and constantly being interrogated by him.”

A tear drop gathered in his eyes and he cared not to hide it from Arya. Both of them held to each other for support, their hands linked and their shoulders touching. Eragon wept openly and tremors racked his body. Arya tightened the grip on his hand and under her care, the tremors receded to be replaced by a dull pain in his head. Without thought, he leaned into Arya and rested his head on her shoulder. She tensed when he made the move but then relaxed and even went as far as imitating his action. They stood like that for a few moments after which Arya raised her head and looking away from him said, “We have become weak of mind, Eragon. We must not allow it to happen.”

Eragon looked into her eyes searching if she believed what she said. But she had brought up a hard look on her face and it made it difficult for him to discern what she actually felt. “No Arya. We have not. Sharing the mutual sorrow and pain does not amount to weakness. Bottling them up where nobody else can see is weakness; cowardice.” He said softly. ‘And there is nothing wrong in sharing it with the one to whom I would bare my entire being if only she asked.’ He thought although he did not say it out aloud. He searched for the comfort of Saphira but found that she was sound asleep in the far banks of Ardwen. He smiled. At least she had peace.

Arya sighed heavily as if relenting from her stance. But she said nothing in return. Instead her tone changed business-like and she said, “So our cities are no longer the safe havens that they were before.”

“Yes, if Galbatorix succeeds in breaking them.”

Arya nodded as if he had said something so inconsequential. Then she said, “Let them find peace soon.”

It was Eragon‘s turn to nod. Death was their best hope. Shamed by their incapability to do anything other than wait for their allies to die, Eragon sought to discuss more pleasant topics. The more he kept his mind on those morbid thoughts, the more he grew disgusted with himself.

He looked around to make sure that they had perfect privacy and when he was sure that they were alone and out of reach of anyone's ears, he decided to rest his back against the stump of a small tree that grew under the shadow of the redwood.

“Would you care to sit?” He asked looking up at Arya. She turned around, saw him, sighed and sat on the ground beside him. She kept her eyes trained away from his face even as he tried hard to get her attention – yet another of her tantrums that followed each and every intimate moment they shared. It was as if she always wanted to show him that their friendship can never be anything more than the companionship they shared and used such tactics to remind him of the fact. He waited for her to turn to him, but she never did instead gazing at an exotic vine with exquisite red flowers. Giving up his efforts to gain her attention, he said, “Your mother knows of Indra”, looking straight into her face.

Arya’s eyes shot up at him and there were a thousand questions dancing in them. Her lips trembled and she batted her eyelashes without stop. She looked anxious, expectant and even afraid. But she did not ask anything to him, leaving him free to speak what he had in mind.

“She said she was proud of you and that she was happy for you to have found a partner to share your lonely life with.” He said never breaking eye contact with the princess. Arya's eyes glazed over as tears filled in them. He smiled at her warmly, understanding what his words meant for her. Arya had been at war with her mother's will for the most part of her life and he knew that she wanted to be on the same page as her mother at least now when they were in a real war that could kill them both.

When he found that she still didn't ask him for details, he began to tell them himself. He told her how he had showed an image of Vanendra to the queen and how Islanzadi seemed eager to meet him in person. She sighed relieved when he said that Islanzadi accepted her choice to not take up her role as regent in the absence of her mother – instead leaving the rule in the care of Niduen.

“Your mother also asked me to deliver you something.” Eragon said and walked away towards the door to Katrina's home where he had placed his backpack, signalling Arya with his hands to wait for him. He picked it up and came back to where Arya waited. He removed the bundle holding the Shantiyastra from the backpack and held it to Arya. She looked at him confused for the bundle was made in such a way that it was impossible to deduce that it held a sword in its folds. He motioned her to take it and hesitantly she took it. “Open it, Arya.”

She opened the bundle quite clumsily which was so much unlike her. But considering what she had gone through in the minutes past, Eragon felt sympathy rise in his heart. Even the strongest minds needed the support of love and trust – and for the millionth time he resolved that whatever happens, he would give them to her till the last drop of blood ran in his veins.

When the sword hilt was finally revealed, Arya gasped. “Eragon, is it… is it true?” She asked her fingers fumbling around the hilt.

Eragon frowned not understanding why Arya should be so shocked at seeing the sword. He had expected her to be surprised. But the reaction that the sword elicited in the princess was so different from surprise – it was disbelief. Did she think that her mother would never have gifted the sword to her? Or was it something else? Anyway, he answered her, “Yes, Arya. It is the Shantiyastra. Your mother felt that you would be a worthy wielder.”

“But… but it was lost.” Arya rasped. “My mother always said that it was lost with my father.”

Eragon ran his hand through his hair trying to piece together the puzzle. He remembered reading about the loss of the sword too. When Islanzadi had said that it was never lost, he thought that maybe his memory had failed him. But now, with Arya’s words things became murkier. The queen had said that she never wore it – neither ceremonially nor in war. For some reason Islanzadi had not wanted to use the sword and more importantly had not at all wanted Arya to know of its existence.

Maybe she feared it for some reason. Yes, that was it. Right after Evandar’s death, Islanzadi had shut the elven forest off from all other races and had withdrawn all her people to Du Weldenvarden. She had tried so hard to stop Arya from joining the Varden that when her efforts failed, she had resorted to the cruellest of measures: disown her daughter.

Eragon had always figured that Islanzadi was a terrifying-war-goddess style queen. But now, after having seen the queen’s soft side he thought maybe it was all a façade to hide her worst fears: the destruction of her family and kingdom. Islanzadi had wanted to ensure that her people had peace even if it meant abandoning the humans and dwarves to the mercy of Galbatorix. She must have feared that the presence of Shantiyastra, the weapon that kept peace – real peace – would instil the elves to retaliate and so to break their spirits had pronounced the sword lost.

And it was all left to Arya, her daughter to right the queen’s wrongs – however good Islanzadi’s intentions had been – first by defying her mother to join the Varden (thus making a fragile bridge between the humans, dwarves and the elves) and then by getting captured and tortured by a mad shade (and thus stirring the sleeping war-goddess in Islanzadi). He was now pretty sure that if not for Arya, the elves would today be an alien race to Alagaesia that according to human legends tricked using their fair skins. And the worst part: he might have believed those things too; that the race his beloved Arya belonged to was a bunch of evil tricksters. If anyone in the world deserved to wield a sword with history and power like Shantiyastra it was Arya. Islanzadi had finally stopped trying to protect her daughter and had accepted Arya’s choice – to fight against Galbatorix, avenge Evandar and to free the people of Alagaesia.

Eragon smiled at Arya, a proud gleam in his eyes. She looked back at him confused. “Do you know something that I don’t, Eragon?” She asked.

“Well, not exactly. But I think your mother hid the sword when your father was killed.” He explained.

“Why would she do that?” Arya asked. But before Eragon could answer her, she forestalled him by saying, “Never mind. I don’t want to hear. I can guess somewhat and it is not pleasant to hear – or think about.”

Eragon did not know what Arya thought but figured that it would anyway be embarrassing for her to talk or hear about her mother’s ‘cowardice’ or ‘selfishness’ which were the only ways the queen’s actions could be explained as Eragon envisioned them. So he thought it better not to speculate. Some things were better left to be covered by the sands of time.

For the next hour or two the two dragon riders discussed the history and examined the power of Shantiyastra. Eragon was so surprised to hear all the stories about the sword from the days before the humans arrival in Alagaesia up until the fall of the riders after which of course, it had gone out of the history of Alagaesia and become the stuff of legend only to resurface again when the war with Galbatorix was nearing a tipping point. Their conversation then veered towards random topics and before they knew it, they were discussing weather patterns in Carvahall.

They were so immersed in their discussion that they failed to awake Katrina who had fallen asleep for lunch and continued their talk well into the afternoon. It was only when Saphira woke up from her own slumber and asked, ‘Little one, what is that small talk you are having about?’ did they finally realise that they had spent almost four hours speaking about – it turned out – nothing.

‘So Eragon… it turns out that the princess’s only unfortunate trait has rubbed off on you’ Saphira teased him as she flew towards Silthrim. ‘You have lost sense of time.’

Eragon smiled at the comment only to realise that Saphira had let Arya hear her words too. Judging from the glare Arya was throwing at him, it seemed she had taken the joke pretty seriously. He sighed cursing his situation. Just because he had made a stupid move on her two years ago, whenever something was said pairing the two of them together, it always became his fault – it didn’t matter that the comment came from Saphira or Roran or Indra. For Arya, it had to be Eragon’s fault. And lately it had become a daily routine.

To salvage the situation, he proposed that they awake Katrina and finish that delayed lunch. Arya looked curiously at him when he said that. He felt like her eyes were telling him something: See. You went ahead and kissed me and to escape you are changing the topic. He flinched slightly but then Arya nodded her head in agreement and so they went into the home, woke Katrina up who was quite annoyed with Eragon for not waking her up earlier (everything was his fault, yeah) and had their lunch in silence.

After lunch, Eragon picked the baby from its cradle and began playing with the just woken child. Arya and Katrina sat together like old friends and watched him pull off several tricks both magical and proper making the little child giggle like anything.

'Little one, I am here.' Saphira announced in his head. 'I will reach Katrina's home in a minute.'

Eragon looked at his niece and said, “Come on, my kanmani... we are going to meet a very special person.” So saying he lifted the child from his lap and ran off outside the home making Katrina yelp and say, “Be careful Eragon.”

Eragon though was in no mood to heed Katrina's advice. He wanted to show his niece to Saphira and wanted to do so very badly. He wanted to share his happiness with the partner-of-his-soul-and-mind and without doing that he knew his happiness would never be full. When he left the garden filled grounds of Katrina's home, Saphira met with him landing with all the grace of a dragon without making even a little noise with her legs. He grinned at her from ear to ear not really caring what he would look like to others. Some corner of his mind tugged at his being and said him to hide behind a careless stony expression but he had learned to ignore it. He felt happy inside and he did not feel like hiding his happiness from the world. As he himself had explained to Arya that morning: it was cowardice to hide.

Saphira lowered her head and laid one huge blue eye on the baby in Eragon's arms. The child stared back at Saphira for a rather long time. Saphira snorted and drew closer. The child tugged at Eragon's tunic and began whimpering. Before either of them knew what was happening she was crying loudly. Eragon tried to comfort her by stroking her sides and Saphira tried to make funny faces to cheer up the kid. For some reason, it only made the child cry even louder.

A peal of laughter that almost made Eragon's heart stop sounded from behind them: Arya was there and she was laughing her heart out. Close on its feet, came Katrina's laughter and Eragon turned red in embarrassment. After another fit of laughter, Katrina commented, “Oh, stop it, you two. You look like a pair of clowns. I don’t know how you are going to raise Eragon’s kids.”

The comment said with Arya around made Eragon self-conscious. He felt so flustered that he averted his gaze from the two ladies who stood opposite him and scanned for some non-existent object on the ground. Arya herself stopped laughing and stood as if enjoying the flowers around her.

Saphira’s embarrassment turned to amusement at this sight and she let out a plume of smoke from her snout. The child stopped crying and began giggling.

‘Some kid you are, Eragon-niece… crying seeing my beautiful face and laughing seeing my dangerous weapon.’ Saphira said.

Eragon jumped at the chance to divert the topic of discussion. “Didn’t I tell you that she was a violent one?”

Katrina laughed even more at that. “Between the two of you I cannot tell who the better clown is.” She said.

‘If you are speaking about clowns then there is the one and only Eragon Shadeslayer. I am merely affected by the closeness with him’ Saphira replied and rumbled in laughter.

The child had forgotten her fear for Saphira seeing as she was kicking the dragon’s neck as if she was asking Saphira to repeat the smoke-magic. Saphira complied and let out another plume of smoke, this time taking care to release it in a ring. She followed up with yet another ring which was aligned in right angles with the first one. The two rings rose together into the sky not breaking for a long while. The sight made the child laugh even more and so Saphira continued making different kinds of smoke images to amuse the child. Even Arya, Katrina and Eragon were amazed by Saphira’s show and they became silent spectators of the smoke marvel unraveling right before their eyes.

‘I never knew you had this talent’ Eragon said in an amazed voice.

‘I too didn’t know till now.’ Saphira admitted.

Katrina gasped at seeing an intensely artistic image Saphira produced and when they turned to her she had tears on her eyes. “I wish Garrow and my father were here to see this.. Their grandchild being entertained by a dragon. Alas, they are dead killed by the cruel Ra’zac.” She said sadly as a mild shiver racked her body.

Eragon bit his lips nervously. The words bothered him for Sloan was not dead and it was he who had banished him from Katrina’s sight forever. After having learnt his true name, he understood the real magnitude of what he had done to Sloan. It weighed on his mind. Arya seemed to understand his position and looked at him reassuringly telling him silently that what he did was right. He made a half-smile at her unsurely.

‘Don’t worry Eragon. If Sloan changes we can take this child to him. That will satisfy him.’ Saphira comforted him.

‘I hope so.’ Eragon replied.

Eragon was surprised when Arya’s mind touched his. He let her enter and she said, ‘Indra will be waiting. We have to go to him. It has been two days since I last spoke to him.’

Eragon agreed. Unlike him and Saphira, Arya’s bond with Indra was still young and so they could only feel each other for a certain distance. Even for him, Saphira’s thoughts had felt far away when she was with Indra.

He asked Saphira to take Arya to Indra. So the two of them said their farewells to Katrina and her child. Katrina pleaded them to stay the night. But Eragon gave her some lame excuses like: the battle in Gil'ead still needed their attention and Arya needed to be present in Ellesmera for the preparation of the next batch of soldiers. Katrina reluctantly let them go, wishing them luck in their endeavour. Eragon felt so bad for not revealing Indra to Katrina. But he thought it was now too late to tell her about Arya's dragon.

When Saphira and Arya had gone, he contacted Roran with Katrina. The cousins had a pleasant talk for more than an hour when they discussed various names for the newest member of their family and dreamt of a glorious future for her. They thought of naming the child: Lily for she was like the flower – glowing and beautiful, Aruna for she represented a new dawn for them, Amudha for hearing her laughter felt like drinking nectar, Priya for she was their dearest and Vimala for she was the purest being Eragon had ever seen. But they finally decided upon Weldhena as she was born in the forest.

Roran seemed like he was in some other world and not in Alagaesia that was caught in a deadly war although he kept repeating that he hated being away from Weldhena. But under all the happiness and joy that Roran exuded Eragon felt there was something that weighed his cousin down. Eragon did not ask what it was because he did not want to ruin the moment. ‘Besides,’ he thought, ‘it might be nothing. He may just really miss holding his daughter in his arms.’ But something said that it was not just that but a deeper care.

When he finally bid his cousins farewell and went to meet Saphira, Arya and Indra who had just started moving west towards Ellesmera he realised two things: one, he was no longer a youngster by any means having seen the next generation of his family and two that though the first realisation was true, it did not mean that he necessarily felt older. In fact, the beautiful face of Weldhena only made him feel younger and happier.

Author's Note:

After nearly twenty days of struggle, here is the chapter. In the meanwhile, I read the mark of Athena and as usual Rick Riordan took the breath away from me.

This will most probably be the last lovey-dovey chapter. Anyway, I felt this chapter told something about Arya's feelings for Eragon: confused. Only Eragon was too foolish to realise that. He thinks that she only feels for him as a friend. Anyway the two bundles of joy are: Weldhena and Shantiyastra.

I thought of a lot of names for the child but finalised on Weldhena which I took from Du Weldenvarden and according to me it means: of the forest.

Anyway here are the words of ancient language that I have used:

loptKonungur - King of skies
Maha - great

Eka elrun ono - I thank you

Kanmani - apple of the eyes (in Tamil) It literally means iris (or pupil)