it.”
Finally, Arya relented and said, “Your concern is appreciated. And I too spoke badly.” She looked down. In the dark, the outline of her limbs and torso was painfully rigid. “You ask what troubles me, Eragon? Do you truly wish to know? Then I will tell you.” Her voice was as soft as thistledown floating on the wind. “I am afraid.”
Dumbfounded, Eragon made no response, and she stepped past, leaving him alone in the night.
CERIS
On the morning of the fourth day, when Eragon rode alongside Shrrgnien, the dwarf said, “So tell me, do men really have ten toes, as is said? For truly I have never traveled beyond our borders before.”
“Of course we have ten toes!” said Eragon, astonished. He shifted in Snowfire’s saddle, lifted his foot, removed his right boot and sock, and wiggled his toes under Shrrgnien’s amazed eyes. “Don’t you?”
Shrrgnien shook his head. “Nay, we have seven on each foot. It is how Helzvog made us. Five is too few and six is the wrong number, but seven... seven is just right.” He glanced at Eragon’s foot again, then spurred his donkey ahead and began speaking animatedly to Ama and Hedin, who eventually handed him several silver coins.
As dusk fell and the full moon rose, the Edda River drew ever closer to the fringe of Du Weldenvarden. They rode down a narrow trail through tangled dogwood and rosebushes in full bloom, which filled the evening air with the flowers’ warm scent.
Eager anticipation swelled within Eragon as he gazed into the dark forest, knowing they had already entered the elves’ domain and were close to Ceris. He leaned forward in Snowfire’s saddle, the reins pulled tight between his hands. Saphira’s excitement was as great as his own; she ranged overhead, flicking her tail back and forth with impatience.
Eragon felt as if they had wandered into a dream.
At last they came upon a small meadow set between the river and forest. “Stop here,” said Arya in a low voice. She walked forward until she stood alone in the midst of the lush grass, then cried in the ancient language, “Come forth, my brethren! You have nothing to fear. ’Tis I, Arya of Ellesmera. My companions are friends and allies; they mean us no harm.” She added other words as well, ones alien to Eragon.
For several minutes, the only sound was the river rushing behind them, until from underneath the still leaves came a line of Elvish, so quick and fleeting that Eragon missed the meaning. Arya responded: “I do.”
With a rustle, two elves stood on the edge of the forest and two ran lightly out on the boughs of a gnarled oak. Those on the ground bore long spears with white blades, while the others held bows. All were garbed in tunics the color of moss and bark underneath flowing cloaks clasped at the shoulder with ivory brooches. One had tresses as black as Arya’s. Three had hair like starlight.
The elves dropped from the trees and embraced Arya, laughing in their clear, pure voices. They joined hands and danced in a circle around her like children, singing merrily as they spun through the grass.
Eragon watched in amazement. Arya had never given him reason to suspect that elves liked to — or even
Then Saphira drifted over the river and settled beside Eragon. At her approach, the elves cried out in alarm and aimed their weapons toward her. Arya spoke quickly in soothing tones, motioning first at Saphira, then at Eragon. When she paused for breath, Eragon drew back the glove on his right hand, tilted his palm so that the gedwey ignasia caught the moonlight, and said, as he once had to Arya so long ago, “Eka fricai un Shur’tugal.” I am a Rider and friend. Remembering his lesson from yesterday, he touched his lips, adding, “Atra esterni ono thelduin.”
The elves lowered their weapons as their angled faces lit up with radiant joy. They pressed their forefingers to their lips and bowed to Saphira and him, murmuring their reply in the ancient language.
Then they rose, pointed at the dwarves, and laughed as if at a hidden joke. Drifting back into the forest, they waved their hands and called, “Come, come!”
Eragon followed Arya with Saphira and the dwarves, who were grumbling among themselves. As they passed between the trees, the canopy overhead plunged them into velvet darkness, except where fragments of moonlight gleamed through chinks in the shell of overlapping leaves. Eragon could hear the elves whispering and laughing all around, though he could not see them. Occasionally, they would call directions when he or the dwarves blundered.
Ahead, a fire glowed through the trees, sending shadows racing like sprites across the leafy ground. As Eragon entered the radius of light, he saw three small huts clustered together around the base of a large oak. High in the tree was a roofed platform where a watchman could observe the river and forest. A pole had been lashed between two of the huts: from it hung bundles of drying plants.
The four elves vanished into the huts, then returned with their arms piled high with fruits and vegetables — but no meat — and began preparing a meal for their guests. They hummed as they worked, flitting from one tune to another as the fancy took them. When Orik asked their names, the dark-haired elf pointed to himself and said, “I am Lifaen of House Rilvenar. And my companions are Edurna, Celdin, and Nari.”
Eragon sat beside Saphira, happy for an opportunity to rest and to watch the elves. Though all four were male, their faces resembled Arya’s, with delicate lips, thin noses, and large slanted eyes that shone under their brows. The rest of their bodies matched, with narrow shoulders and slender arms and legs. Each was more fair and noble than any human Eragon had seen, albeit in a rarefied, exotic manner.
Brom had told Eragon that it was rude for someone to speak with their mind to a Rider’s dragon without permission, and the elves adhered to that custom, voicing aloud their comments to Saphira, who would then answer the elves directly. Saphira usually refrained from touching the thoughts of humans and dwarves and allowed Eragon to relay her words, since few members of those races had the training to guard their minds if they wished for privacy. It also seemed an imposition to use such an intimate form of contact for casual exchanges. The elves had no such inhibitions, though; they welcomed Saphira into their minds, reveling in her presence.
At last the food was ready and served on carved plates that felt like dense bone, although wood grain wandered through the flowers and vines decorating the rim. Eragon was also supplied with a flagon of gooseberry wine — made of the same unusual material — with a sculpted dragon wrapped around its stem.
As they ate, Lifaen produced a set of reed pipes and began to play a flowing melody, his fingers running along the various holes. Soon the tallest silver-haired elf, Nari, raised his voice and sang:
