A/N: A lot of you expressed interest in a sequel to Words, so here it is! I hope you'll enjoy it. I just want to say a quick thank you to everyone who reviewed Words: Melanie Corran, Mainn, Kihakukage, Too lazy to log in, shinycrobat, Sarcastic-Bones, rawpotato, skaterofthebooks, booklover1398, Sky, Katieg343, Mireilla, NinjaBook, Christoffer Kirk, Bayfire and an anonymous person. I hope you'll enjoy it and I'd love to know what you think!

Eragon smiled at Arya and took her hand, relishing the long-missed feel of her smooth skin.

"How about a guided tour?" He asked her.

"I'm sure that would be delightful, "Arya replied quietly, motioning for Eragon to begin.

Laughing, Eragon towed her forwards and set about taking her to the forest he knew she would love. It was filled with moss-covered trees and, though the path was often difficult to traverse because of the gnarled roots which protruded one to two feet from the ground, the peaceful sanctuary the woods offered could only be equalled by the farthest points of Du Weldenvarden – something Eragon was sure Arya would appreciate.

Arya stared in wonder. "What do you call this place?"

"Nothing yet," Eragon replied. "I haven't found anything fitting for the island or for this forest. Perhaps I'll name them after you…" He held his breath as the words slipped out, almost fearful of Arya's reaction.

Instead of turning angry, Arya merely looked thoughtful as if she were considering names for the island that Eragon now called home.

Eragon and Arya continued walking until they reached the clearing Eragon had made for his meditations. Aside from the log he'd knocked down when he had created the stump, the area was untouched. Arya smiled, immediately recognising what the area was meant for, and sat down on the stump, crossed her legs and closing her eyes. Her face took on an expression of utter peace, and not wanting to disturb her, Eragon sat on the log he had been meaning to remove and joined her in meditation, still loosely holding onto her hand.

Just as Oromis had taught him, Eragon expanded his mind, biting back a gasp as he felt Arya's consciousness doing the same. Errant thoughts flew between them as they sought out wildlife to follow. Arya began to hum the melodious tones of the songbirds hiding in the trees around them and they sand the tune back.

Just like the first time Eragon encountered Arya's mind, he found himself focusing on the lyrical strains of thought echoing from her, and, so absorbed with them, he did not notice as Arya unfolded her legs and stood before him.

It was only when she leaned closer and her warm breath brushed the side of his face that he blinked in shock and pulled out of her mind.

He stared as Arya knelt on the log with a knee over either side of his lap. Her hands were cupping his cheeks as she kissed him passionately. Eragon's hands rose to her waist and held her securely.

"You don't know how much I missed you," Arya murmured between kisses.

In reply, Eragon kissed her again.

Arya sighed and leaned further into his body, resting her head on his shoulder.

"Eragon?" She whispered.

"Yes?" He asked just as quietly.

"Will you go back into my mind for a moment?"

Eragon nodded, confused as to why Arya would have asked such a thing.

"Don't get lost," Arya murmured as she lowered her barriers.

As soon as Eragon's mind was rubbing against her own, she chose her memories and showed him them. Eragon was in wonder as he saw Arya during her childhood years, though Arya skipped most of those. She avoided showing him Faolin altogether and focused more on when she had first felt Eragon's mind in Gil'ead and the feelings associated with the memory. Soon she and Eragon were sharing their memories of each other, reinforcing how they felt about one another.

When they'd reached the end and watched all the way up to their most recent kisses, they withdrew back to their own minds. Arya and Eragon were both breathing heavily as they looked one another in the eyes.

"I love you," Eragon told her seriously.

Arya smiled. He had seen all her flaws, everything about her, and he still loved her. She oughtn't to have been surprised – her memories said the same things about her as her true name – but she couldn't help feeling that seeing what she was was worse than hearing it.

"And I you," she whispered.

They stayed intertwined, unable to notice the passing of time, until they both heard a voice in their heads.

Not shirking your duties, are you, Little One?

Eragon jumped and replied, Of course not, Saphira, just taking a break…

Arya smirked at him and stood up to allow him to get to his feet.

"Come on…I'm meant to be training Marla and Jarek and Kargiv and Ursila…"

Eragon led the way out of the forest and towards the small town he had built with the elves. It was essentially a smaller, whole version of Dorú Areaba, with white stone buildings large enough to house dragons and spire-like roofs.

When they walked out of the shade of the trees, two large blurs – one green and one blue – raced past, cork-screwing around each other, and landed a feet ahead of Eragon and Arya.

"I see Fírnen found Saphira too," Eragon commented, making Arya smile again.

How do you know I didn't find him? Saphira questioned.

Did you?

No, she admitted, making Eragon burst out laughing.

Arya shot him an inquisitive look and then gasped slightly as Marla and Ursila landed. Along with Saphira and Fírnen, they made the beginnings of a rainbow, glittering in the sunlight.

"Atra esterni ono thelduin," Arya said to the two dragons and riders.

Jarek the dwarf and Kargiv the Urgal nodded and returned the sentiment. They jumped down and asked after Alagaësia.

"Come on, enough chatting," Eragon interrupted after a few minutes. "Up into the sky."

Eragon drilled the two dragons and riders into different manoeuvres, then clambered onto Saphira and flew up to meet the silver scaled dragon that was Marla. Ursila, a blood-red coloured dragon, flapped forward a few feet but found his path suddenly blocked by Fírnen who carried Arya.

Eragon looked to her in confusion. "How did you know I was going to battle them?"

Arya raised her eyebrows but didn't say anything. It was obvious how she knew – after hearing his true name and seeing his memories, Arya knew Eragon better than anybody, possibly even better than he knew himself.

Arya and Fírnen waited for Kargiv and Ursila to attack first, as they knew they would after having trained them for months before sending them on to Eragon. Fírnen only had to dodge to the side of Ursila as he barrelled towards them, for Arya to be able to hold the blade of Támerlein to Kargiv's thick neck. The Urgal growled and Ursila flew to the left away from the danger, whilst Fírnen followed.

In mid-air, Arya traded blows with Kargiv, who repeated knocked her sword aside with his large wooden club. Finally, though, Arya's superior skill won out, and she sent the club spinning out of Kargiv's hand and jerked Támerlein up to rest under his chin. Eragon continued to battle with Jarek as Saphira pinned Marla's wings down with her powerful tail. Each time Jarek's axe met Brisingr, the clang of metal reverberated through the air to Arya. Eragon grinned continuously, glad to be using his muscles again.

Eventually, Eragon wore down Jarek due to his elven strength, and congratulated the young dwarf on his performance before lowering his sword.

Saphira released Marla and prepared to dive down only to find Fírnen hovering in front of her.

"Arya?" Eragon asked, suspicious of her mysterious grin.

"Care to spar?"

Eragon grinned, "Sure, but right now, you've got some visitors."

Arya looked down and saw the gathering of people below. Curious, she asked Fírnen to land, and found herself in the midst of old friends. Blödhgarm was closest to her on her right and immediately used the appropriate greeting, adding the twisting of his hand over his sternum.

"Dröttning!" The elves chorused, launching into a series of questions on the wellbeing of their own relatives and the state of affairs in Alagaësia.

When the sun began to set, they retired to the castle and celebrated Arya's visit, though she didn't seem keen to be in the spotlight after having finally changed out of her usual attire of black leather into a forest green dress that only served to make her look more regal than she already did. Arya kept edging towards Eragon and flattening her dress over her stomach every few seconds as if she was nervous or worried about something.

Eragon took her hand and squeezed it slightly, trying to reassure her. But she still didn't look comfortable, so he whispered lightly into her ear, "Care to go for a walk with me?"

Turning to him, Arya shot Eragon a grateful look and moved away, taking him with her. "Where to?" She asked, stopping as she realised she had no idea where they were going to go.

"How about the Dragon Hold? It'll be quiet there."

"Lead on," Arya said, falling into step beside Eragon and shooting a sideways glance at him as he took confident strides into the darkness with only the pale light of the moon to guide him.

They walked in silence, enjoying each other's company in contentment. When they arrived at the Dragon Hold, an immense building, bigger than any other on the island, Eragon led Arya in, skirting about Saphira's long tail and hopping over Fírnen's front paw.

Before they'd even sat down somewhere, Arya suddenly turned to Eragon.

"Eragon…I have something I need to tell you…" She stuttered nervously, seeming to have to force the words out.

Frowning slightly, and worrying over what could cause Arya to act so uncharacteristically, Eragon asked, "What is it?"

There was a long pause before Arya said smoothly, "Murtagh believes he may have found those Ra'zac eggs Galbatorix was talking about."

"That's great news," Eragon said cheerfully, wondering why Arya didn't seem to share his enthusiasm. Her smile was faint and almost fake just like one of the ones she would have given him when they first met.

All through the evening Arya was quiet, withdrawn from the people around her. It was only Eragon's hand wrapped around hers that kept her from disappearing entirely. After one night spent curled around one another, Arya had to leave.

Fírnen was none too happy about it and half-heartedly complained that his wings were still recovering from flying through a headwind for the entire previous day, but after a short mental conversation between he and Arya he quietened down and allowed his Rider to tie the saddle around his middle whilst Eragon stood by watching silently.

"Well…I guess it's goodbye again…" Eragon said uncertainly.

Arya nodded. "But not forever. We'll return," she promised.

As soon as Fírnen rose into the air, swiftly followed by Saphira, lazily hovering in a final goodbye, Arya was cursing herself.

Would it really have been terrible to just tell him? She asked herself.

Well, it's definitely going to be worse when you drop the bombshell the next time you see him, Fírnen interrupted.

Arya silently agreed. She just wasn't sure what she was meant to do. It wasn't fair to put another person in her and Eragon's situation, but nor did she have any true power over the outcome. Eragon couldn't very well return to Alagaësia but nor could she leave her people.

Whilst they flew back to Du Weldenvarden, Arya focused on trying to find a solution, but she saw none. Perhaps, she mused, if she had told Eragon he might have known what to do. There was still time, she supposed, so it was possible for her to write to him and tell him the news that way. But that seemed awfully cruel way to say such a thing. Still perhaps she could indirectly ask Eragon's advice.

By the time Fírnen landed outside Tialdarí Hall, Arya was tired and a thin mist had begun to cling to her leather clothes and seep through. Still, mindful of her duty, she climbed down from Fírnen's saddle and unstrapped it, allowing him the freedom he always craved. Whilst Fírnen flew away to hunt, sending a rush of warmth and affection as his parting gift, Arya hurried indoors and changed into some more appropriate attire.

As she pulled her leather leggings off, a rustle of parchment alerted her to the presence of a note, slipped into her clothes. Pulling it out, she read the short letter. It was from Eragon, of course, but contained just a few simple words.

I love you with all my heart.

Eragon

Arya smiled briefly, then began to feel guilty once more and returned her attention to dressing.

The red dress made her look just like her mother, she noticed as she looked in the mirror inspecting her reflection before leaving her quarters for the monthly meet with her councillors.

It was almost midnight by the time Arya flung herself into the chair at her desk, lit the candle with a single word and drew a piece of paper towards herself. Once the quill was in her hand though, she found no words sprang to mind. Everything she wanted to say was locked in her head, refusing to form coherent sentences.

Sighing, she simply wrote the first few words, hoping that inspiration my strike after that.

My dearest Eragon,

Hesitantly, Arya penned the next few lines.

T'is I, Arya. I know we have only just spoken, but perhaps you noticed there was something I wanted to say.

When I said I wanted to talk to you, the subject in question was not actually the Ra'zac eggs. Rather, it was something – if I dare say it – more important. I do not feel right putting this information into a letter that could so easily go astray, nor would it be fair on you to impart such information in so callous a way.

Instead, I will return to you as soon as possible. I only hope that you will not think too badly of me when we next come face to face. I truly tried to tell you.

With love,

Arya

Then, she rolled the piece of paper and slipped it up her sleeve and swiftly left the room. Down in the gardens she paused by the familiar flower with golden petals. Eragon still didn't know that she'd returned to the site where they met the spirits not long after the end of the war.

It had been a surprise for Arya to see the golden lilies growing en masse. She couldn't help digging up one and taking it back to Ellesméra to grow in the Tialdarí gardens. They were growing like crazy still, quickly spreading through the area like wildfire. Before the night was over, Arya had collected a handful of blades of grass and was twining them together, readying them for making another enchanted grass-boat.

Once that was done, she slotted the parchment between the mast and the prow and blew the ship into the air, muttering a few words in the Ancient Language before returning to bed.

Miles away, Eragon was still awake, sitting in bed and thinking of Arya. He missed her already. In the weeks that followed, he spent many a night the same way, until one evening, as he contemplated how to describe the exact colour of Arya's eyes, a small grass-boat floated through the open window of his dwelling. To feel closer to the object of his affections, Eragon has built a temporary wooden hut deep in the woods, near the meditation stump.

Eagerly, he sprang from his cot and took the letter, reading and memorising each word. A soft frown took over Eragon's face as he read Arya's words and tried to puzzle out what she could possibly want to tell him. Nothing immediately came to mind and as day after day passed whilst Eragon anticipated his beloved's arrival; he began to consider the most ludicrous ideas.

The simplest idea, perhaps, the one that happened to be true, never crossed his mind.

Finally, however, the day came when the buffets of Fírnen's wings were heard for a few long moments before he landed and Arya stepped down, ready to reveal her secret.

Eragon's eyes bulged in shock. In the two months that had passed since he'd last seen Arya, she had changed much. Her stomach had swelled outwards and Eragon felt tears of happiness spring to his eyes at the sight of it. Arya was pregnant!

He fell to his knees and Arya hurried over to him, still nimble on her feet.

"Eragon, I'm so sorry," she declared, wrapping arms about her neck. "You must think terribly of me."

Eragon shook his head insistently. "No. This is the best thing that could have happened." And then he pulled her close and lifted Arya into his arms as he stood.

Whilst Arya's pregnancy continued, she stayed on the island with Eragon, leaving Lord Däthedr to rule as regent while she was away. Arya would return to Alagaësia after the birth. In the months they waited, Saphira laid a clutch of eggs, some of which were to be taken back to Alagaësia by Arya. One would go to the humans, one to the elves, one to the dwarves and one to the Urgals.

After five months, Eragon had a son. A son with a soft tuft of dark brown hair sweeping over his head and around his thinly pointed ears.

Eragon held his son in his arms, smiling widely down at his as Arya prepared to leave. When the last bag with the four eggs had been attached to Fírnen's saddle, Arya approached looking downcast once more.

"I guess it is goodbye again," she murmured.

Eragon nodded. "But not goodbye forever," he reminded her. "We'll all live a long time. I only hope I don't miss too much of my son's childhood."

"I'll make sure you won't. We'll be back before the year is over."

Eragon kissed Arya goodbye, then pressed his lips lightly to his son's forehead.

As Arya settled herself on Fírnen's back and ensured their son was safely nestled in the sling, Eragon found himself already planning how to celebrate his son's birthday when he would return one year on.

A/N: So what did you think?