A Night in Eternity: Chapter 4

Eragon felt like he was torn between dread and happiness, a feeling he had been struggling with all week and even more so this morning.

            There was no wind this morning, a setting for a perfect winter day. Freshly fallen snow clung to the pines and their breathes frosted before them.

            He had been walking throughout the woods with Arya all of that morning. Their conversation and laughter accompanied the sound of their boots crunching down on the frost covered forest floor.

            Sheltered from the eyes of others and their responsibilities of the world by the pines they walked beneath, Eragon felt happier by this comfort than anything else. If he could, he would wish to stay here forever.

            And he dreaded the time when they would leave the shelter of the pines. More than anything else.

            Arya walked beside him; dressed finely in her favoured colours under the cloaks that kept her warm.  Her arms were crossed in front of her chest while a smile highlighted her face.

            "So it seemed like the best option was to crash into the mountainside?" she asked, amused at his story.

            "I would not call it crashing, Saphira called it a successful emergency landing," he replied while scratching his chin. "It's something that only dragon riders as experienced as we are could have pulled off, many others may have died."

            "A wise and experienced rider would have known not to fly out in a snow storm like that, they would have taken shelter rather than risk their lives," Arya mused.

            "Yes, well, be that as it may--it was still an amusing way to be introduced to the people of the northern city of Adanost. They were quite friendly, despite the fact that Saphira and I gave them fright," Eragon pressed on, ignoring Arya's persistent teasing.

            "I'm sure the sight of the both of you stuck in a snowdrift was an amusing one that any hostility was the last thing on their minds," Arya continued.

            "We were not stuck in a snowdrift of any kind, just rather dazed and full of snow," Eragon sighed heavily, while adjusting his cloak. "And the northern peoples are a very kind people, it seems that any hostility is always the last thing on their minds --I just wish that they did not build ice towers as tall as they do. Saphira and I would have been fine if there had not been one suddenly in front of us during the storm."

            "So now it's their architecture that's at fault?" Arya asked, leaning up against a thin tree while raising her brow in amusement.

            Eragon stopped walking, sighing in order to communicate his disapproval to the teasing elf beside him. Her response was a half-hearted attempt at humouring him. Her sly smile was not sympathetic in the least.

            "You don't have the cleanest flying record either, Arya," he accused as he fell back on the tree opposite to hers, facing his devious elf. "How about that time you and F­írnen  had that cliff give out from under the both of you because you misjudged the structure and support of it when you decided to land there?"

            The smile slid from Arya's face, "That happened nearly four decades ago, Eragon. And it is completely different from your blunder."

            "Still happened and if I remember correctly, it was a similar situation to mine and Saphira's," Eragon continued while tapping the back of heel into the hard frozen earth. "You both ended up full of mud after cutting down over a hundred trees as you crashed into them due to your mistake. One that any wise and experienced rider would have been able to avoid."

            Arya responded with a glare that Eragon was sure would hurt if it could cause physical damage--to which he responded with his own smile.

            They had not had this much fun in a while and this whole week had been one enjoyment after another.

            Arya sighed and held the tree while she used her momentum to swing herself around the tree slowly-- her boots kicking up what little snow had managed to fall beneath the shelter of the pines.

            They were both stalling and Eragon was very much aware of the blinding white light to his left where the trees broke out to the reaches of sun and mountainside. It was very much the representation of the end of their time together. And neither one wished to leave the forest and face their impending parting.

            Instead Eragon observed Arya as she danced around the tree before him. It was a very honest and yet childish moment for her--and Eragon was glad that he could witness it.

            She was radiant in every way.

            "Then shall we both agree to agree that we both have our share of mistakes?" she asked, and Eragon laughed and agreed. "Of course, it should be said that one has done more of their share than the other."

            "Of course," Eragon sighed, knowing exactly who she was referring to.

            She flashed him a grin in triumph as she swung around the tree and faced him before continuing on.

            Upon her return, Eragon swiftly caught her face with his hands, pulling them together as he kissed her.

            Arya's eyes widened in surprise, her flushed cheeks deepening before her dark lashes fluttered closed. He trapped her between himself and the tree she had been twirling around as her hands locked themselves within his hair.

            He held her close, his arms trapping her to him as they kissed hungrily. Their passion escalated as they held nothing back, opening themselves to each other fully. The sensation of her smooth tongue pressing against his was desperate and wonderful. He wanted nothing else but her.

            And he never wanted to let go.  The thought of her leaving and not coming back for many seasons was upsetting.

            But what else were they to do?

            Suddenly, he was flipped until it was his back against the tree, Arya's arm pinning him as she pushed back, ending their kiss short of Eragon's original plans.

            "Firnen and I must go," she stated, her eyes burrowing into his. Their startling green eyes framed by her dark hair was a mesmerizing in the light and surround white snow. They were brighter than he'd ever seen them.

            "Is it selfish of me to say that I don't want you to?"

            She laughed, "yes."

            "I know that we both have our duties as Riders and you as a Queen. But that doesn't mean I have to be happy about our time apart. Can't you visit more often?" Eragon asked.

            "I will come when I can. To the meetings and anything else that requires my presence. I cannot place this, us, before all of my people. You know that. Don't make this harder than it already is Eragon," Arya sighed. "Perhaps in your habitual  roaming of the unknown, you could find time to make your way to Du Weldenvarden."

            "I'll see," he replied. But they both knew the emptiness of his words.

            Arya removed himself from him and turned towards the edge of the forest.

            "Well, we'll make sure to treasure whatever time we happen upon together," Arya said as she walked away.

            And as Arya mounted Firnen and took off into the sky and towards the west, Eragon swore that he would definitely treasure those promised times above else.

            Arya returned the following summer and left shortly afterward. Sometimes, it would be years between their meetings. There were times when they met on battlefields alongside less joyous times. They took to writing letters and sometimes spoke through mirrors. It was hard. But all of those times were worth everything to them.

            And that was them during the centuries that passed. Nearly almost apart, but close in ways that distance could not destroy.

            They were like stars, times of happiness and joy, across the night sky of eternity.

            This was merely the first of many goodbyes.