Chapter Two Part XIX (ED)

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"Wait - if you lived in Ellesméra then you must be an elf and...how old are you?"

She laughed at his question, and Niom fidgeted as he realized how rude it had sounded. His dragon cheeped softly to him, and he rubbed his head, stuttering apologies until Leafë finally stopped chuckling.

"I'm sorry for laughing, but it was just so funny the way you asked me." Leafë grinned back at him, seeming much younger than even the age she appeared. "I'm 256 years old."

His jaw hung open in shock until Niom quickly closed it. "Wow. You don't even look to be in your third decade!"

"We're not called the fair folk for nothing," she teased.

Niom smiled more confidently than before as he replied, "Now that I knew was a fact from the moment I first saw you."

Leafë seemed surprised, but quickly glanced down, and when she looked back up there was only laughter in her green eyes. "Aren't you flattering? Now let me show you a list of names."

Leading him down a row of shelves, she scanned the titles of book to one side, muttering to herself before exclaiming, "Here it is!" Reaching up, Leafë slipped a thick tome down, wiping the dust off the old leather cover. "The Complete Abridged History of Dragons."

"That's a big book," commented Niom as she led him to a table where she set it down.

"It is, isn't it?" came the reply as nimble fingers leafed through soft-looking yellowed parchment. "The list should be right...here."

Moving to the side, Leafë beckoned him over. Curiously, Niom came forward to take a look at the page. At the top in swirly curlicue the phrase "Names of Dragons" was written. The reminiscence focused on the page, showing the many columns of very small print.

"Wow," Niom said once again. "So these are all names I can choose from?"

The dragonet whistled sharply, and Leafë glanced at the pair with a warm smile. "These are the names he can choose from."

"Of course," he murmured as he began reading several of the names aloud. "Let's see. Raugmar doesn't really sound like a name for a gray dragon, does it? Hmm, how about Fundor - ouch, ouch, no need to bite! Galzra?" The elf coughed politely, and Niom blushed as he realized his mistake. "...that's a female name, isn't it? Okay, well, do you like Vanilor?"

The first name I asked if you wanted, Eragon said to Saphira. He felt her acknowledgement of the coincidence.

"One of the kings of the wild dragons," the elf added, and the dragonet hummed to show his approval.

"I like it, too," said his Rider with a grin. "Very...noble sounding. And definitely heroic." Picking up his dragon, he formally declared, "From this moment on, you shall be called Vanilor."

Vanilor blew smoke into his face in response, making Niom sneeze as Leafë laughed mirthfully.

"Vanilor, I think we will become very good friends." Looking now at his elven companion, he added in a tone not quite so wry, "Very good friends, indeed."

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The image in the mirror faded, forming a new scene where the two were walking along the beach with their backs to the viewers as Niaomi narrated, "Mother helped teach Father the ways of a Dragon Rider while Vanilor learned about his own race. They practiced combat, which Vanilor was very skilled at, and magic, which was Father's strong point - and it helped that he already had some mental training. In fact, he was talented enough to use some ancient scripts and construct spells and magical devices that could be activated and utilized by one who wasn't a mage.

"During that first year, the two developed a closer relationship - " here, Niom took Leafë's hand, " - and eventually fell in love, getting married a few years after Father had arrived."

A new picture appeared on the mirror's surface, this one of a slightly older Niom (now bearded and taller than his bride), dressed in a black tunic with dark breeches and smiling at Leafë, who wore a beautiful white gown with a lace bodice (A/N: see picture above). Between them was Tristan, beard freshly trimmed for the occasion as he held the purple scarf that bound the couple's crossed wrists together. Beside the groom stood Vanilor, now fully grown and as large as Toparien), and beside the elf stood Wayłoêr.

"And within a year after their marriage - " Nick began.

" - Mom and Dad had us three," Nate finished. "Thanks the gods that he'd finally convinced her to move out of that humongous library and into a nice, big house he'd built on the beach."

"Just like the one that he used to live in, except a bit more ornate," added Nia, and the mirror now showed a huge wooden house with two floors and a wide porch. The wood was carved into beautiful designs of vines and animals, and the windows were big and open, curtains rustling in the sea breeze.

The reminiscence shifted again to display a new scene. In a room decorated with fairths and driftwood crafted furniture, Niom and Leafë stood smiling into a big crib, the man's arm wrapped around his wife's slim waist. The angle changed to show the face of three babes that lay side by side, blinking their big eyes. Their skin shone with magic just as the two elven children's that Eragon had seen in Ellesméra had. Nathan was on the right, laughing as he messed with his hair. Nicholas was on the left, blinking tiredly as he yawned. And Niaomi was laying quietly in the middle, her violet eyes looking upwards as a silver star shone from her brow.

Eragon gasped at the sight. "That mark - it's just like the one Saphira gave Elva."

The young woman smiled and pushed back her circlet to reveal the same silvery shape that adorned Elva's brow. "It is, though no dragon gave this mark to me. 'It is also a sign of a seer."

"How did you get it if Vanilor did not bestow it upon you?" asked Nasuada.

"I didn't know how until I was much older...but that tale will be told in time." The image faded and was replaced by a view of the sky from the beach. Outside Alalëa's protective shield, a fierce storm was raging. "Alalëa is always moving and never stays in one place for long. Legend says people don't discover the island - the island discovers them..."

[Chapter Word Count: 10528]

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