Sweat covered Eragon's face. He looked down at the newest dwarf Rider, Hefthyn, and crouched lower to the ground.

Fighting with a dwarf was much different than an elf or human. Nothing was quite like it and to some degree the dwarf had an advantage Eragon did not. Protecting one's legs was harder than it sounded and axes were awkward to parry.

Hefthyn barreled forward, his ax swinging through the air in a not-so-graceful arc. His cold-metal-steel-blade jarred Brisingr as it made contact, creating a arm-numbing-shock.

Eragon shook as he pulled the blue sword away from the dwarf and jabbed at the neck region. With all the time he spent with Saphira he was beginning to think like her as well. He knew it would happen more often as their bond strengthened but, it was strange to think in such a different way.

"Try to use less force and more grace," said Eragon, dogging a thrust to his knee. "You'll expend all your energy and have none left when you need it."

Hefthyn looked up at him and the blade of his ax plummeted into the ground. With a scowl, he looked down at his ax before prying it out and wiping it clean of the soft, dark earth.

"But you move so fast, ebrithil."

Grace was not one of Hefthyn's greater qualities, but that was understandable.

"Speed isn't the goal, hitting your target is. Now let us try this again."

A moan emanated from somewhere in the sparring grounds. Eragon looked up to see the human rider, Kont, sitting on the ground clutching his ankle with both hands. Blodhgarm knelt beside him and inspected the ankle before placing one of his fur covered paw onto the skin. Eragon heard him mutter "Waise heill." To their right two elves sparred with such speed and fury that it made Eragon glad he didn't have to defend himself against either of them at the moment.

Turning back to Hefthyn, Eragon said, "Are you ready?"

Hefthyn nodded vigorously.

"Try to move at just the right speed. Not to fast, not to slow."

They sparred for many more minutes and the sweat on Eragon's face began to blur his vision. With a complex twist of his wrist Eragon knocked Hefthyn's ax from his hand and took the opportunity to wipe his face. The sun was high over head and made everything stifling hot. Even the soft grass beneath his feet looked as if it might wilt in the sunlight.

When Hefthyn returned with his ax in hand he situated himself before Eragon and tried a new approach. Instead of barreling toward him with all his might, he feinted to the left before attempting to hack at Eragon's right foot.

Knowing that Hefthyn was attempting a new approach, Eragon jumped five feet to his left before racing back to the dwarf. As Hefthyn tried to bring his ax up to protect himself, Eragon rested Brisingr on to his collarbone.

The maneuver made the dwarf stop dead in his tracks. Still as a statue, Hefthyn looked at the blade and then into Eragon's eyes. Frustration, weariness, and stubbornness clouded his dark brown eyes. His beard seemed to stand on end and it amused Eragon, for he had often seen this when a dwarf was defeated and didn't want to admit it.

Leaving the blade sitting where it was for a moment longer, Eragon said, "You have yet to learn patience."

Then he removed Brisingr and sheathed it. Hefthyn followed suit and put his ax firmly into his belt and looked at Eragon expectantly.

"Let's go find a drink and then practice magic." He turned and left the sparring grounds, making his way toward the large hall, Mor'ranr, that stood slightly on a hill to the northeast of where they were. With quick steps Hefthyn followed and came to walk by Eragon's side. Behind them the sound of clashing swords still rang in the air and occasionally a dull thud would accent the general din.

Looking down to meet his eyes, Eragon asked, "Are you listening to the thoughts of your dragon?"

Hefthyn's dragon, Hljodhr, was a small white male who was very calm and composed. Hardly anything upset him and he was a quick learner. In the back of his mind he could hear Saphira teaching Hljodhr of the finer arts of combat.

"No, ebrithil," replied Hefthyn with evident shame.

"It will become easier as you grow older. But try harder to listen and ask Hljodhr what he learned tonight."

"Yes, ebrithil."

As they reached the stairs which lead to the main doors of Mor'ranr, Eragon said, "What did Hljodhr just learn?" It was imperative that Hefthyn learn to listen to his dragon as well as maintain knowledge of his surroundings.

Hefthyn tensed, thought for a moment, and then said, "Ebrithil Saphira was telling him about a special tactic to use when cornered."

This was true but, not entirely. Eragon had heard Saphira discussing different tactics to use if a wing was broken and you were cornered in a large area. Hefthyn would need to practice listening but, that was to be expected.

"Better, but continue to practice," Eragon replied and he pulled one of the giant wooden doors open, allowing Hefthyn to enter before him.

As soon as the stocky dwarf was over the threshold Eragon followed. The room just inside was ornate and beautiful. The same tedious care had been taken to perfect it, as with all of Mor'ranr. Above all else, the elves valued beauty and insisted on making the Rider's main hall a thing equal to a legend.

Off to the left was a wooden door inlaid with brilliant colors through which Eragon and Hefthyn passed to enter into a room used for cooking the meals.

A giant stone oven ruled a corner and a long rectangular table stood in the center. Grabbing a water skin from a hook in the wall, Eragon poured the contents into two medium sized stone mugs. After muttering a clever spell over one of the mugs that would make Hefthyn ill if not detected, Eragon handed it down to the stocky dwarf.

In a questioning tone Eragon asked, "Is this safe to drink?"

Hefthyn took the mug and sniffed it. He looked back up at and Eragon and then back down at the mug. Eragon heard him whisper a few spells. After a moment, Hefthyn said, "It seems so, ebrithil."

"Are you sure? Perhaps you should try a few more times."

Looking back at the mug, Hefthyn frowned and tried three different alternatives to his previous spells. Finally a triumphant look shown through the dwarves beard. "I found your spell, ebrithil."

"Good," replied Eragon, and he took a swig of the water. It cooled his throat and he immediately felt better. "Now, what if you didn't know I had cast a spell. Would it have been wise to drink it even after testing the liquid with a few spells?"

"I suppose I could ward myself against any sort of poison," answered Hefthyn.

Eragon nodded his head before saying, "In a way you are right. But I believe it would be beneficial if you learn more words in the ancient language."

From the time a new Rider arrived in Aiedail they were expected to speak only in the ancient language. Murtagh introduced the new Riders to basic sentence construction before they left Alagaesia but, there was always much more for them to learn.

For the next hour Hefthyn and Eragon sat in the cooking room, sipping their water, and discussing new words and their meanings. If Hefthyn excelled in anything, it was learning the ancient language. He could remember large amounts of new words and had become fluent in the language in less than three months after coming to Aiedail. But he often lacked in the imagination of creating unique spells and that made it important that he learn as many words as he could.

Once they were finished, Eragon sent Hefthyn to meditate in a quiet grove Eragon had found several miles from Mor'ranr. He often went there if he was feeling stressed and it had proven an excellent place for new Riders to perfect their skills as well.

After Hefthyn left the cooking room Eragon made his way to the west wing of Mor'ranr and found Arya sitting with Kont, helping him read through the Lay of Umhodan. Beside them were other scrolls, piled and laying open at various places. Kont had come to Aiedail lest than a month ago and still needed much help to understand the ancient language.

As he entered the room Arya looked up at him and smiled before saying "Eragon."

With respect in his voice, Kont added a quiet "Ebrithil."

Eragon inclined his head to him and turned to Arya. "Have you heard from Murtagh if Jarsha and Szel arrived in Ilirea safely?"

With a shake of her head Arya said, "No, he hasn't."

"I'll contact him and ask if he's seen them yet."

After acknowledging Eragon's comment, Arya turned back to Kont and began explaining the meaning of another word.

Eragon walked to the south wing where an enchanted mirror sat in his quarters, connected to Ilirea. The south wing of Mor'ranr was Eragon's favorite as it had an entire room dedicated to the history of Alagaesia and Riders specifically. It had been the special project of Yaela, one of the elves who had been Eragon's body guard during the war and accompanied him to Aiedail. The elf had spent countless hours before the room was finished. The colors she had created with magic were so vivid and beautiful that it took your breath away when you saw it. Even after multiple viewings.

When he reached his room, Eragon sat at the edge of his four poster bed and brushed the mirror off before muttering the spell that would contact the capital of his homeland.

Several hours later Eragon sat with Arya looking at the stars on the roof of Mor'ranr. He had contacted Murtagh earlier and learned that Jarsha and Szel arrived in Ilirea only a few hours earlier. They delivered the eggs to Murtagh and then left for the Spine soon after to give Roran the gifts Eragon sent with them. They spent a few moments more discussing Murtagh's plans for the new eggs and some questions he had regarding the progress of Eragon's students.

Eragon sighed with contentment. The night was beautiful and the stars were much brighter out in the middle of the ocean. He loved this island as much as he loved Alagaesia and it was his home now. Glancing at Arya, Eragon could see that she too enjoyed this place.

To their right sat Saphira and Firnen, snuggled together and sleeping deeply. Both dragons were much larger than they had been eighteen years ago and Saphira was very proud of this fact.

They sat there many more minutes, watching the stars dance across the sky. Eragon moved closer to Arya and took her small hand in his own. She looked at him with kindness, and something else.

Love?

Yes, it was love.