For Alagaesia: 68. The coward’s attack and a kingly gift

The wind whipped his hair and the open lands beyond the elven forest of Du Weldenvarden held signs. The winter was wearing off. Though the land was still covered with snow, the cold air of the winter had long since ceased to blow. The air was still cool, but there was a subtle change in the weather pattern. Having grown up in the northern parts of Alagaesia and having made his livelihood out of farming, Eragon could clearly discern the signs that the land was showing: winter was coming to an end. In a fortnight from now, the first signs of spring would be visible to all. Yet, Eragon felt no pleasure at the sight as he would have felt but four winters ago. He would soon have seen twenty winters – a fully grown up man who could do whatever he wished with his life. These were just passing thoughts – like clouds on a windy day – in his mind though that came and went unbidden when Saphira left the firs of Du Weldenvarden and reached the open grounds. His major focus remained facing off, yet again, with his brother and foe, Murtagh.

For Alagaesia: 67. Hour of need

Standstill was only a word. One half of its meaning could be realised by watching Ellesmera. Time seemed to come to a standstill in the leafy elven city. But how could one realise the other half? How could time be brought to a standstill for real? This was the question eating into Eragon’s peace for the best part of the last month.

‘What use is magic when it can’t fulfil your only wish?’ – Eragon found himself thinking. How good it would be if there was a knob like that on Oromis’s time bauble that could be wound to keep time from advancing?

For Alagaesia: 66. Monsters

The biting cold that coated Alagaesia's north and central parts seemed to have seeped into her very veins. She didn't know if it was because this was the first time that she was up this north or if it was a side-effect of some other illness that was secretly affecting her. But what she did know was that she may be cured of it if she had sometime for herself, away from all the gloom and doom reports of the Varden.

Martland Redbeard was as good a tactician as Jormundur and it wasn't difficult to envision him leading the Varden for a couple of weeks while she would get her 'rest'. But the thing that was difficult was getting her advisers who included the eternally meddlesome council of elders, the night-hawks(who had taken up as the personal security ensurers of the leader of the Varden) and the senior most captains of the Varden army to accept her proposal.

For Alagaesia: 65. Eternally etched in

The sun rose and set, each day, without fail, as if it were its duty to do so even when sick. The winter advanced, forcing the sun to be more and more sick each passing day, but the sun was relentless. It rose even if its heat was not as potent as it would like to be. It gave light, even if for a decreased amount of time.

Ellesmera and the surrounding Du Weldenvarden, caught in a time warp and seemingly eternal had its effect on Eragon and Saphira. After spending six weeks in the leafy city, they cared not about the passage of time. The sun rose and set day after day, but it always felt like their first day in the city.

For Alagaesia: 64. Consequences of being closed

“Never lose sleep over your husband, Katrina. He has a knack to defy difficulties.”, Eragon said. Katrina had contacted him and explained about Galbatorix's counter attack. Eragon was embarrassed to have heard of the Varden's struggle and victory from Katrina. It was his duty to scry and learn about the happenings of the Varden on a day-to-day basis, since the Varden were in no position to contact him when need arose. But he had spend his time training Indra, making fairths and practising with Arya and had forgotten to keep an eye on the Varden for the past four-five days.

Katrina nodded as if to say 'I know' and said, “But Galbatorix grows desperate.”

It was a very true observation. It was, indeed, desperate of Galbatorix to send armies from three directions to recapture Teirm. And Eragon knew quite well that victory wouldn't have been this easy if the Varden were ignorant of the marching armies. Somehow they had been notified and they had won the battle.

For Alagaesia: 63. The informer's victory

Victory. Humph, Victory. It must be the only word glorified beyond all its merits. When people spoke of it, they spoke as if they had fed a whole country of men for a year. They stood with their heads held high when they proclaimed victory over the opposing forces.

Roran had had his fair share of such moments where he had felt on top of the world; as if he was the God and the world was a bit of dirt under his feet. But this time, victory wasn’t as sweet for now he had not gone headlong into battle. He had had the chance to look upon a battle scene from above and he had watched how fate could work either way as it chose and kill anyone.

For Alagaesia: 62. Nightmares, Confrontation and Who are they?

He lay sprawled on the top of the mountain. Cold was all around and it was inside him too. It was evil. And it was deep inside where it should not be. It was terror. Terror unlike anything he had felt before. It wrapped around him and it was coursing through him. Darkness was spreading all around.

Somebody was calling out to him.

For Alagaesia: 61. Can he be trusted?

Being the leader of a rebellion was a head ache. Not just because of the lopsided match between the rebels and the empire, but also because of the politics within the rebel alliance and the threat of back-handed assassination attempts by the empire. But Nasuada had managed it well so far. Or at least that was how King Orrin felt. Oddly, he had visited her for no particular reason at all and had spoke with her for an hour about the status of the war and almost all things related to war – which of course included everything in their life. Their life was now war; as indistinguishable from one another as water in milk.

For Alagaesia: 60. Learning. Speaking. Naming.

Dragons were wonderful. The way their mind worked was amazing to say the least. They always seemed to know what exactly had to be done. Young or old – experienced or novice, they were always one step ahead of even the most experienced and rational elf. Yet their aggression was something unheard of in human, elven, dwarven or even Urgal realms. When annoyed they could lose all semblance of fair judgement and follow their instincts blindly. But what served them in such extreme situations was the fact that the instincts of a dragon were almost never incorrect.

For Alagaesia: 59. Peace and Happiness

The puny-dotted-deer was cunning enough to keep running under huge trees. No animal had ever defied her attempt to hunt this long. It wasn't that the deer was smart, it was just that never before had she been hampered by an extremely slow-to-fly companion.

Arya-bonded-little-green-dragon had insisted upon following her to hunt. According to Arya, he was tired of eating Saphira's catch. So much gratitude for helping with fresh meat in his young days. She, Saphira, had been forced to eat stored and old meat when she was little as she didn't have any dragon around to help. The only food she got was stolen meat from uncle-of-Eragon's stocks.