Baen un Mor'ranr – Sorrow and Peace

Eragon was still standing on the wall, staring at the city which was by now bathed in sunlight. Though he looked perfectly calm from the outside, a raging storm of emotions was tearing at his mind and heart.

The loss of Oromis and Glaedr throbbed in his mind like a fresh wound. At the same time he felt himself overcome by an immense gratefulness that the fight for Feinster was over, and that he and Saphira – and Arya – were still alive.

Eragon swallowed hard, as he fought against his tears. Saphira touched his mind in a silent embrace, and though her thoughts were as sad as his, it soothed his pain.

The memory of the Shade almost killing Arya sent chills down Eragon's spine. I almost lost her last night. What would I do if she had died?, he asked himself quietly.

We would nevertheless continue fighting the Empire, setting our personal grief aside for as long as necessary, Saphira said softly.

I wish I could say I would do that, Eragon responded calmly, but the truth is, I'd probably put revenge over anything else.

Let's just hope we'll never have to find out.

Eragon agreed and they fell silent again.

He didn't know how long he had been standing there, when he suddenly felt a soft breeze to his left.

Turning his head, a familiar smell caught his nose and he saw long black hair blowing in the wind.

Arya was staring straight ahead. Her facial expression was difficult to read, as always, but her eyes betrayed her of her pain.

Eragon looked back at the city, which sparkled beautifully in the light of the young sun. This beauty, though, stood in a morbid contrast to the corpses of the many dead soldiers, littering the streets.

"Do you ever wish you were someone unimportant?" Eragon asked suddenly. "A weak, insignificant person, who has no part in this tale. Someone, who lives in such a far corner of this world that you doesn't even realize that there is war."

When Arya did not answer, Eragon realized that the elf princess might have taken his words as an insult.

"Forgive me, Arya svit-kona –"

"I do," Arya said, interrupting him. There was a shaky note to Arya's usually so strong voice that surprised the young Dragon Rider. "Sometimes I wish I could just leave this all behind."

There were a few long moments of silence, in which each of them pondered over their own dark thoughts.

Finally, Arya sighed, shook her head and then said: "But most of the time I am grateful that I am who I am." Eragon registered a change in mood in her voice and turned to look at her. He was surprised to see her looking back at him, a soft smile on her lips. "And I do not regret being here. I would not trade my role in this war for any peaceful existence. This is my place, right here, next to you, Shur'tugal. Though our paths may be dark, we will bring peace to Alagaёsia, will we not?"

Arya's voice had become stronger with every word, and Eragon suddenly felt new life pumping through his veins.

"We will!" Eragon called out, drawing his sword, Brisingr, and Saphira roared her agreement.

*

Later that day, after Eragon and Saphira had gotten some rest, Nasuada called for them. Saphira was asked to take a flight and investigate the area around them thoroughly. Eragon, on the other hand, was to stay and take part in strategy discussion meetings. It took a lot of power of persuasion from Nasuada's side before Dragon Rider and Dragon agreed to being separated again: they only gave in as Saphira would stay close enough that the bond connecting their minds wasn't interrupted.

Still, Eragon felt that the day was passing incredibly slowly. When he was finally allowed to retire to his tent late in the night, he felt he was unable to sleep. Saphira's consciousness – though he still felt it – was far away, and he felt lonely; she would only return the next evening.

After some time, Eragon gave up falling asleep and stepped outside his tent again.

He drew in his breath sharply in surprise, as he saw someone sitting on a tree stump.

The silhouette of that someone against the moonlight let him know immediately who it was.

"Arya!" he exclaimed, keeping his voice low, though.

She turned around slowly, her expression was impossible to read. "Eragon. I did not expect to meet you; I thought you were resting. I hope I did not disturb you."

Eragon shook his head. "You did not disturb me. I couldn't find any sleep." Eragon hesitated, then he added: "I feel to lonely to find solace in sleep tonight."

Arya's eyes pierced into his own, and Eragon felt as if she was looking right into his soul. "I, too, feel very lonely tonight," she admitted quietly. "But it is a loneliness that will never leave me, because he cannot return to me like Saphira will return to you tomorrow."

Eragon was not sure whether her words were actually directed at him. He knew she was speaking of Fäolin, her elven friend, who had died some time ago and whom she had loved – in one way or another.

Eragon felt Arya's immense sadness, and his greatest wish at that moment was to somehow ease her pain.

"Arya, stay here tonight," he said in the ancient language. "Share your loneliness with me and let me help you bear the pain."

She looked up at him, and her gaze seemed strangely distant. Then she nodded slowly. "I should not stay... But I cannot be alone tonight."

Eragon motioned to the tent, and Arya slipped inside soundlessly.

Eragon, Saphira whispered in his mind from afar. Arya is displaying great trust. Do not mess this up.

I know how to behave, Saphira.

I'm just saying this because I am concerned of your well-being, little one.

Then Saphira's voice in his head disappeared – apparently she was too far away now. It had been like this all day: Sometimes he had been able to communicate with his dragon and then again the connection had been disrupted.

Eragon sighed and entered his tent.

Once his eyes had got accustomed to the darkness, he saw that Arya had lain down on his bed, facing him. He stood in front of her for a few seconds, not knowing what to do.

Then he saw a single tear running down Arya's cheek.

In that moment Eragon made up his mind and lay down next to the elf. He cast his arm around her, holding her tight. He felt Arya shaking as tears now rolled down her cheeks freely.

Eragon was now becoming overwhelmed by his own emotions and didn't even try to fight the tears that soon ran down his face and onto his pillow and Arya's hair.

Arya pressed her face against Eragon's chest, making him hold her even tighter. Eragon put his lips to her head, inhaling the scent of her long, smooth hair.

He cautiously sent out his mind and touched hers softly. He immediately felt the strong wall around Arya's thoughts, but he ignored it as it wasn't his intention to try to break it down.

He silently offered her a picture of Oromis and Glaedr: it was a memory of one of the lessons he and Saphira had had with them.

He felt Arya accept his offer, and in return, Arya showed him a memory of a much younger Oromis and a four-legged Glaedr. They continued exchanging memories for a long time, sharing their grief.

At some point, Eragon suddenly thought of Brom – his father. He involuntarily conjured up a memory and shared it with Arya.

He began to apologize: he had not meant to change the content of their shared thoughts. But Arya interrupted him by showing him a memory she had of Brom.

Though Eragon didn't notice it, his body shook with emotion at this.

After some time, Arya hesitantly sent him a picture of Fäolin.

For a fracture of a second, Eragon felt jealousy fill him. But he immediately pushed it aside and opened himself for Arya's memory – and her pain.

With a soft touch of his mind he let her know that he regretted not being able to offer her any memory of Fäolin as he had never met him. He felt a new emotion amongst Arya's thoughts, but was unable to identify it.

When, after long hours, their exchange of memories slowly ceased, Eragon realized that he was still holding Arya tightly.

Though they shared no more thoughts that night, neither of them broke the weak bond that connected their minds, so that both of them constantly felt the presence of the other.

Eragon continued to cradle her in his arms for a long time, until they both finally drifted off into the elvish dreams which replaced their sleep.

A/N: I just finished reading Brisingr… and was kind of frustrated that Arya and Eragon are still not together. Well, anyway, hope you enjoyed this little fic. I' not quite sure yet whether this'll stay a one-shot or whether I'll write a second chapter – but I guess for now, this is it.

Thanks for reading!

- Elanor