A/N: Italics are the mental communications
Two weeks flew by, blurring into a rhythm: dawn sparring and Rigmar sessions, noon magic drills, dusk showering, and enjoying the wonders of Ellesmera with Annabeth and our dragons. Furnöst and Shorai ballooned to small-house size, wings spanning like sails, tails reaching enormous lengths. At the end of week two, Glaedr dropped us at the cliff meadow as part of our training. Shorai's wings immediately snapped open, catching an updraft; she shot upward, spiraling in a gleeful voice ringing through our minds: I'M FLYING, ANNABETH! Annabeth whooped, eyes shining.
Furnöst, though, stayed grounded, desperately trying to propel his wings upward to get us flying. His wings drooped like wet sails. There's no point, he sulked, sounding resigned, and after I got off of him, he headed slowly down to the beach, picking his way down the cliff face. I felt his envy and resignation sting through our bond. Annabeth tried cheering him, but he just huffed blue smoke and continued walking to the beach. I started down to the beach but was interrupted.
"Wait, young Rider, give him the space he desires," Glaedr interrupted, sounding tired. "Trust me on this," he added, seeing my protest. The day went by agonizingly, each second an hour and every minute a day, with only Annabeth and the distant bond to keep me company. I already missed Furnöst and his comforting thoughts, desperate to go help him with his journey.
"It's okay, Percy, he just needs a bit of time alone," Annabeth said, as we snuggled close near the "fireplace," which consisted of magically heated rocks.
"I know he'll be fine, but you know how I am..." I trailed off, reviewing my fatal flaw yet again. We snuggled closer, and I was glad she was here with me, being my rock in this stormy sea.
———————————⁄ ⁄ A day later ⁄ ⁄———————————
"Buddy," I said, sitting on a rock, "what's eating you?"
Shorai flew first. I'm... too slow, too weak. His mental voice cracked.
I snorted. "Weak? You're a walking tsunami. Remember when you sneezed and flooded the training arena?" He rumbled, almost a laugh.
"Look, flying's not a race. Shorai's got her thing; you've got yours. When you take off, it'll be epic. Trust me, you just have to be patient, and soon you'll reap the rewards. Trust me, it took my entire life to learn this, but it's useful."
You think? His eyes glinted, hopeful.
"Know it. Now quit moping and eat some fish. Since you're growing so quickly, you're going to need a lot more fuel." He nudged me, nearly knocking me into the surf, and we bantered and talked for the day's entirety before heading back home.
Two days later, back at the cliff, Furnöst crouched, muscles rippling like coiled ropes. He leapt. Blue wings thundered; he climbed, wobbled for a second, then leveled out, the air blowing in my face, heating up as he blew trains of flame, bellowing, We did it! I punched the air, laughing as he looped gently, pulling into a barrel roll, causing Shorai to fly up, both dragons chasing one another through the clouds, their roars immensely loud to my ears.
Mid-week, about 4 days after Furnöst's first time flying, Queen Islanzadí hosted dinner in a moonlit glade—silver tables, glowing fruit, no meat as their preference. Annabeth and I had decided to also follow their policy after entering the thoughts of other animals and plants, which was a peculiar experience to say the least.
"Arya, my daughter, and Eragon, the other Rider, arrive in seven days time," Izlandí announced, voice cool. Post-dinner, we slipped away. Ellesméra's beach curved under starlight, waves whispering. Annabeth's hand found mine, rings clicking. Behind us, Shorai and Furnöst splashed in shallows, mock-fighting, water exploding in glittering arcs.
"Think he'll be a good guy," I asked, idly swirling some water. She leaned into me. "Why else would they invite him here, Seaweed Brain?"
"Oh yeah...!" I exclaimed, wondering why I didn't think of that. I kissed Annabeth's salt-tanged hair, with our dragons' roars echoing as the tide pulled in and out, comforting me and reminding me of home.
———————————⁄ ⁄ Two weeks later ⁄ ⁄———————————
Eragon's POV(A/N: I have no clue if this is how they actually got there in the book so...)
The journey from Farthen Dûr to Ellesméra stretched long and quiet, just me, Arya, and Orik on horseback or boat, Saphira soaring above. The ocean gave way to Du Weldenvarden's silver-green canopy, the air thick with magic. Arya rode ahead, her dark hair catching sunlight, her silence a wall I kept chipping at. I tried compliments—"Your swordsmanship's unmatched"—but she'd just nod, eyes distant. One night by the fire, I offered a clumsy poem about her eyes, stolen from some dwarven song I had heard. She raised an eyebrow, half-amused, half-exasperated. "Eragon, focus on your training." Orik snorted, muttering about "hopeless lads." My heart sank, but I kept trying, hoping for another chance where we could become friends and maybe something more.
These thoughts dissipated from my mind as soon as we entered the forest through one of its many small streams that gently wound their way through the many trees, taking my breath away at the picture-like scene. After setting up a campsite on our fifth and final day of the journey, the elves continued on with teaching Orik and me about elven customs, which would be crucial in the weeks that followed.
———————————⁄ ⁄ The next day ⁄ ⁄———————————
The sun blazed at its zenith as Saphira's wings thundered over Du Weldenvarden, her shadow sweeping across the silver-green pines. Arya rode beside me on her horse, and I, riding a similar one, was thankful for the elves' generous gifts. Meanwhile, Orik grumbled behind on his pony, but I barely noticed—my eyes were on Ellesméra's quite beauty, the city being impossible to recognize if you didn't know what you were looking for. Saphira roared at this moment, an earth-shaking bellow announcing our arrival, vibrating through my bones.
Bit of a show off, don't you think? I teased her
And you wouldn't do it if you were the only free dragon left? she asked, pride and happiness swelling in her voice.
We arrived in a clearing next to what looked like the town square, elves emerging from their homes, their silver hair catching light. "Argetlam," they murmured, bowing slightly, eyes wide with awe as they viewed Saphira landing with a thump. I slid off my horse, heart pounding—I had finally reached the legendary city of the elves. Arya dismounted gracefully, and an elf led us through the barely discernible paths to a grand palace of roots and white stone.
Queen Islanzadí waited on a throne of living oak, a crown of leaves glinting, her presence like an ancient tree, steady and unforgiving.
"Welcome, Eragon Shadeslayer," she said, voice cool. Then, to my shock, she turned to Arya with a smile on her face. "My daughter returns." Daughter? Arya was the princess? My jaw nearly dropped, but I bowed, mind reeling. Saphira's amusement echoed: You didn't know?
You knew?!
She told me at Farthen Dur while you were...recovering. The queen's gaze returned to me, sharp as a sword. "Much to discuss, young Rider."
In the queen's tapestry-laden dining hall, Islanzadí, Arya, Oromis, Orik, and I gathered and ate, Saphira's bulk filling the doorway.
"Your training has been delayed," Oromis said, silver hair glinting. "There have been some...previous complications that required adjustments." Complications? I frowned, but Oromoris' gaze silenced my questions. I nodded as they told me where I would be staying for the night because of said complications, nerves buzzing.
That night, I slept in a cave fitted for Riders—silk cushions, a nice bathing room where water dispensed itself from a nozzle like ficture from the ceiling, Saphira curled around her giant cusion, her gargantam size reminding me of the time when she was little and Garrow was still alive, causing my eyes to tear up, remembering when the world had seemed so small.
Morning brought a hearty breakfast—bread, fruit, and some sauce that tasted similar to honey. Saphira and I flew to Oromis's cliffside house, wind whipping my face. The legendary Glaedr waited with Oromirs, Glaedr's golden scales gleaming, one leg missing, but presence immense. I was immensely humbled to stand before the only other free rider and dragon. I bowed low.
"Master Glaedr, an honor." Saphira echoed reverence, Great one. Glaedr's mind brushed ours, warm but sharp.
"For the first part of your training, you will both be tested," he said. Oromis tested me while Glaedr took Saphira to a secluded location, all too willing to follow him. Oromoris also brought me outside, and after traversing down a small pathway to a peaceful stream. He tested me on both raw strength and control—Brisingr sparked a flame, steady but small.
"For this drill, I want you to focus on force instead of control," Oromis corrected. I smiled at the challenge and imagined a huge wall of flame, scorching the nearest plants and charring the pebbles.
Mental training came hardest. Oromis attacked my mind, images of Durza's sneer flashing. I pushed back with everything I had, but Oromoris swept my defenses away like leaves in an autumn breeze.
Hours later, I was exhausted and my head throbbed, along with my spine from the many sessions of pain thanks to Durza. The sun started its slow descent downward as we left for our temporary cave.
Since it was time for dinner, I showered all the sweat off me in the shower, and Saphira and I flew a ways from Ellesméra, hunting deer in a valley. I practiced my magic, sending the arrow whistling through the deer, proud of how far I had come since meeting Brom.
We ate under stars, the humid air with the cool breeze, relaxing me for the first time in a while. I leaned against Saphira, drained but ready for tomorrow.
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