After Inheritance: The Unwritten Sequel

Queen of The Elves

“Yes, Arya Drötting,” Ládrina and Elrun replied, “We shall see to it that she receives your message.”

“Thank you, I greatly appreciate your assistance,” Arya replied as she strode out the door. I should probably be returning to my room, just in case Eragon decides to communicate with me today, but of course to talk to Raëta when she gets there. Her cheeks began to become flushed when she thought of Eragon, for she still didn’t know how exactly to think of him. Ever since they had shared their true names with each other, Arya couldn’t help but feel a special kind of bond between her and Eragon, one that she had never had with anyone else before, not even Faölin. It had been heartbreaking to watch Eragon sail away and not know if she would ever see him in Alagaëisia ever again. She remembered very clearly the moment that Fírnen had lifted her from the decks of the ship that carried Eragon out of Alagaëisia, the way that his face faded off into the distance as she was carried farther and farther away from him. The wondering thoughts about both of their futures that quickly took over her thoughts, and that just as quickly vanished as she returned to Du Weldenvarden to continue her role. It had been only five and twenty years since that moment occurred, a blink of an eye to any other elf but to her, it had felt like so much longer. The approach of the large cedar doors, which were covered in minute but extremely detailed designs of all sorts of plant and animal life, interrupted her train of thought. Tracing her hand along a design of a climbing vine running along the outer border of the door, Arya paused there for a moment. After only a second or two passed, she swung open the door and entered the apartment that had become her home ever since she accepted her mother’s crown.  She walked through the common room, accented with only a few, simple pieces of furniture, into a smaller room, an offshoot. In this new room, there are only three pieces of furniture; a very simple oaken desk accompanied by a matching chair, and a full body mirror which runs from the ceiling to the floor on the opposite wall. The only light sources in the room are a diminutive and half-burned-out candle sitting in the upper right-hand corner of the desk and a square shaped window which is embedded in the center of the wall opposite the door. As Arya glided into this room, she sat down in the chair but only for a moment, for it was just as she sat down that a knock emanated from the door. Grumbling and cursing Arya got back up and trudged her way over to the doors which she had just entered.

“Greetings Arya Drötting, I was informed that you wished to see me,” announced a young elven woman at the door with the customary two-fingered greeting of the elves, it was Raëta, the ferrier of the eggs. She had light blonde hair that was just long enough to cover the tips of her pointed ears. Her eyes were a lighter green than Arya’s, almost as if someone had mixed the color of Arya’s eyes with white.

“Yes that is correct, none of the eggs have hatched yet so I need you to carry them on to Farthen Dûr so that the dwarves may have a chance of them hatching to one of them,” Arya immediately told her, not wanting to have the conversation extend for much longer.

“Of course, right away Arya Drötting,” Raëta replied, immediately turning and starting off in a somewhat sprint towards Skulblaka Hall and the eggs.

Finally, now that she is off I may have some time to myself before I am called for another blasted council meeting, Arya thought as she returned to the offshoot room she had been sitting in before. Like before however, it was only a moment after she sat down that the mirror to her right began to shimmer and ripple in the way that it did when someone was trying to communicate with her. Leaping to her feet and turning towards the mirror she thought, Honestly, this person had better have a fantastic reason for talking to me right now, else I’ll just end the conversation before it even begins. It’s as if everyone wants me to never be able to have a moments rest. She was kept waiting only a second more, before the smiling face of Eragon, the Leader of the Riders, appeared in the mirror. Startled for a moment Arya was silent, and only staring at Eragon’s face. He appeared no older than when he had left Alagaëisia, and he still seemed to possess that giant, goofy smile of his. His tousled brown hair looked as rough as the Beor Mountains, though not as rocky. This mess of hair that he possessed nearly covered his eyes, which both looked like a swirling brown ocean. He was wearing a dark blue tunic, fringed with a brownish gold color on all of its edges, and the slightly loose, but still well fitting pants he was wearing were also the same bronze color that outlined his tunic. In the middle joining these two items of clothing was a dark leather belt, which had a loop on it for holding Brisingr in its sheath, and accented by a silver buckle which had the design of a dragon carved into it.