#menoa tree

[thearunadragon]

Like many other people, I have wanted to know for years what it is the Menoä Tree took from Eragon. Let us analyze what we know, shall we?

Firstly, Paolini has said that whatever it is is long-winded and will cause many dramatic issues in the future (Book V.) And, secondly, we know that at least one person has gotten it right, and in a post 4+ years old judging by the time Paolini said this. The platform of the correct theory is, to my knowledge, unknown.

The popular fan theories that have been disproved include:

Eragon or Saphira’s fertility. Paolini has stated clearly they both still have the ability to have children (though Eragon’s transformation during the Agaetí Blödhren might make this difficult with a normal human/elf.)

Saphira’s Eldunarí. Paolini states both that what was taken ONLY affects Eragon, and Saphira definitely would notice if her Eldunarí was missing. Furthermore, he stated the theory that Eragon gained his own Eldunarí during his transformation is false, but interesting regardless.

Eragon’s connection to the land. Paolini stated that Eragon’s loss was unrelated to his leaving Alagaësia, Angela’s prophecy, or anything of this nature.

The Menoä Tree did not take nothing. She did, in fact, take something, but of what nature, we do not know, though I saw a hint Poalini left about it mentioning that Eragon’s transformation was not complete.

He has also stated that what is taken should be guessable based on given text. However, most theories I have seen that would leave the Menoä Tree’s actions making sense have been disproved, as it apparently is not related to her backstory, at least not evidently.

He also says that the Menoä Tree definitely TOOK something, which disproves the theory that she put a “seed” in his body to continue her forest.

It is also (if the information I was relayed is correct) disproved that Menoä tree took Eragon’s sperm, or his DNA. (Besides, neither of these would have formed a physical pain, as he felt in the book. Even though it would amuse me to think that she, like, stole his DNA to make her a new lover to replace her old, cheating one, but this time with less flaws. She WAS weirdly interested in ‘what nature of creature Eragon was…’)

She did not fix any incurable disease (as said in an interview) and it is highly doubtful that she took part of his spleen, gallbladder, or appendix, though I cannot remember if I actually SAW him say this is untrue, or dreamt it. HOWEVER, this is a very popular theory (partly in satire) and Paolini has stated that all popular fan theories are not correct.

But what does that leave us? What did she take? A part of his intestine? A piece of his True Name (though that also wouldn’t explain the physical discomfort)? Cause a hernia? It’s BUGGING ME. I NEED to know, and I’ve been searching every Menoä Tree post I can find for answers (and I still am)!

The only way I can think of to know fully would be to understand a COMPLETE Rider’s transformation and try to find the missing piece between it and Eragon. Or maybe the piece is not something taken from the transformation itself, but something that will cause issue when the transformation progresses. Perhaps a part of his connection to magic, a measure of strength, ANYTHING.

Now, perhaps it really is an organ, or another physical part of his body (which makes the most sense to me, considering the physical pain in his stomach mentioned) in which case his rapid loss of weight mentioned in TFTWTW might be a clue of some sort, but I can’t be certain. (He has been working hard, after all, and stressed half to death to boot.)

Are there any theories you guys have come up with or seen? What am I missing here?

[modern-inheritance]

Modern Inheritance: Cracked Armor (Short) (Extended War Timeline)

(A/N: This devolved into Saphira and Glen quietly squeeing to each other while Eragon and Arya have a camaraderie moment completely oblivious to the possible deeper meaning of Eragon being so understanding of Arya's connection to Fäolin and Arya being so touched by it. It started out as a touching piece where Arya feels vulnerable about Fäolin and Eragon is, as said before, very understanding of it, but I had to run an errand in the middle and we ended up with this badly toned, no one is consistent with previous characterization slop. So take it with a grain of salt.

Also, if you ask Arya if she's superstitious, she'll say no. However, she finds many things the Varden soldiers do to honor their fallen friends a good way to respect the memory of the dead, so she follows some of their traditions. She also wears Fäolin's dogtags on her belt, muffled by magic ofc so they don't jangle around.)

CRACKED ARMOR

Glen looked over when Arya let out a soft curse. “Ah, damn it all.” The familiar sound of an armor release clip clicked into the still dust laden air as the younger elf undid the fastenings at her right forearm. “Fucking Wardbreakers. I can’t fix this out here.” 

The dismay in her tone was enough that Glen leaned over his battlemate’s shoulder to take a look at the damage. The bracer was dented in significantly, enough that a dark bruise was already blossoming up on Arya’s forearm as she lifted the sleeve of her combat suit to check for any bleeding. Cracks shot out from the divot in the mix of spidersilk and aramid weave, all the way down to the interior layers. The thin sheaf of spongy aerated gel peeked through in places, a shimmering, foamy white among blued steel and matte black.

Mentally mapping out the angle of impact, Glenwing racked his brain. He was sure at some point he had–

“Ah!” The medic looked down. A blob of malformed metal was embedded in the abdominal region of his own armor plates. “Was wondering where that ricochet came from.” 

“Are you alright?” That she had asked him was telling, at least in their odd little language. The round must have stung on impact, enough that she was worried it had not slowed enough to prevent him from being harmed. He would have to look at her arm, but for now he was pleased she was moving it without any wincing or restricted range of motion. 

Having made his own assessment, Glen waved away Arya’s increasingly troubled frown. “Barely felt it. Looks like your armor’s the most damaged of all of us.”

Frown eased, the disappointed air returned to Arya’s face. “Yeah. Better the armor than any of us, but…” She trailed off, fingers tracing the damage. 

“You two okay?” Eragon was tugging off his helmet as he approached. He had caught the concern in the voices of his companions and, leaving Saphira in Blödhgarm’s capable hands to finish up the final nicks and scrapes, went to investigate. “Sounds a bit depressed over here.”

Arya held up the damaged bracer. “We took a casualty.” Eragon took the armor piece and let out a low whistle. “Don’t know who the hell fired it, but it was definitely a Wardbreaker.” Her expression soured further, eyes oddly soft despite the obvious annoyance. “I can’t repair it out here. Rhunön’s the only one who can fix something this broken, and who knows when we’ll go back.” 

Eragon passed the bracer back. “You have spares, don’t you?”

The elf shrugged. “For this one in particular, yeah. I guess it’s lucky in that regard.” 

“Oh.” Glen’s voice was muffled as he slid his chestpiece over his head. Once free he gave his currently wild silver mane a good shake to clear his eyes and tilted his head in condolences. “It’s that one.” 

At Eragon’s raised eyebrow, Arya rubbed the back of her neck. “It’s…a good luck charm. It’s not my original bracer.” Glen rolled his eyes and not-too-subtly kicked the side of his battlemate’s foot. “Fine! Fine. It’s Fäolin’s.” An unexpected blush met Eragon’s gaze when he flicked his eyes from the damaged armor back to Arya’s face. “Some…old tradition a buddy of mine taught me. Even if our dead stay dead, they can protect us in a way. I might have taken that literally.” 

To the elf’s surprise, Eragon was smiling at her when she finally looked up. A genuine, gentle smile that lit his face. Shit, why did he suddenly look so much like Fäolin in that moment? Not really, not his appearance, but the feeling he was giving off, that warmth? 

“That’s a wonderful idea.” The Rider touched Arya’s shoulder. “I know I’m not much on the whole repair side of things, but if Rhunön made it, then perhaps her spells from forging Bris–my sword. From forging it could help?” 

Glen didn’t move. This was a moment. Don’t breathe, don’t move, let them have it. He could feel Saphira’s mind hovering at the edge of his, questioning, and he let her in to explain and show what exactly was going on. The pleased amusement that radiated into his thoughts echoed his own, though far less tense in anticipation. 

…These two dorks were fast becoming a fascination for the dragon and medic alike.

“Thank you.” Arya’s hand covered Eragon’s at her shoulder, genuine appreciation thickening her words with emotion. “That…that you offered means a lot. But Rhunön’s armor spells are different from her weapon spells.” 

Ah! Glen could see another hint of blush on both of them now. He shared his internal excitement with Saphira. The equivalent of a draconic high five buffeted his mental form in equal elation.  

“I see. Well, if you do want some help with it, just let me or Saphira know.” Eragon shifted his grip and gave Arya’s hand a quick squeeze before pulling back. “I think Rhunön did pack me some aramid repair tape when she was going through Saphira’s saddlebags. Would that help?”

“Immensely. Thank you!” The gentle squeeze was returned and just like that, the two separated. 

Glen hastily busied himself with unlatching the hidden clasps at his left bicep, a grunt of dismissal all Eragon got for a goodbye. The difficulty wasn’t entirely false, the armor never having been altered to fit over his prosthetic properly, and it provided the perfect cover to hide his smile.

A bit too tight still. Damn it. Okay, now he actually couldn’t–

“Oh, come here.” Arya reached up and seized a handful of his combat suit, giving the stretchy material a firm yank. Glen hit his knees with a whuff of surprise, eye to eye with his friend and giving her a sheepish grin. “If I get you out of this without taking your arm off, then will you tell me what the hell that weird look you were giving me and Eragon was?”

“What look?” He may have sounded the picture of innocence, but the open handed cuff to the side of his head made clear that his face was betraying him yet again. “It was nothing! I just hadn’t realized that you and Eragon had talked so much about Fäolin.” 

Arya rolled her eyes and, with practiced ease, teased the stubborn clip open with a satisfying clatter. “Uh huh. You looked like you had eaten some fermented mango again.” 

“I did not!” A teasing smile had started at the edge of Arya’s lips, her fingers finding the next clasp in the system out of pure habit. At the positive sign Glen lowered his voice. “Okay. I really didn’t know how you two were getting along. Neither of you mention it, but the Bloodoath is almost two years past now. You both seem…better. Even better than before.” 

A softness flitted across his battlemate’s eyes as she lifted away the medic’s bracer. “He’s really grown up. Saphira too. They’ve both matured a lot.”

“Yeah.” 

The silence between them grew until Arya had finally shimmied the armored glove off Glen’s prosthetic. She regarded the final piece with a thoughtful look before turning back to her bestest of friends and, as gently as gently got with Arya, whapped him on the side of the head with it. 

“Stop being so weird about me and Eragon, weirdo! We’re friends! Stop making it weird!”

[thelonely-journalkeeper]

my favorite fantasy worldbuilding thing is when a town or location has The Tree.

Oh, that? That’s The Tree that brings our town life and light. It’s a metaphor for our community and when it dies dramatically that’s when we know things are bad. It’s The Tree.

so much symbolism potential. love it.

[dia-viller]

What did Menoa Tree take away from Eragon?

That has to be something important because the tree wanted to kill Eragon and Saphira, and it was so mad at them

(Eragon still can use magic and has all his memories, so it has to be something else)

[gemtail]

I like that Murtagh figured out something that Eragon should have when it came to getting the bright steel from under the Menoa tree: using ground water to detect an object. Although it also kind of makes me sad. They really would have been a great team if circumstances were different.

[newtonsheffield]

Here’s my Inheritance Cycle annoyance:

So Eragon needed a rider’s sword after Zar’roc was lost to Murtagh. Cool cool cool.

He went to see one of the only ones the elves had: Támerlein. He didn’t like it, it felt awkward, so he didn’t take it.

Instead he found enough brightsteel for several swords under the Menoa tree and Rhunon forged him a new sword.

So… why does Arya not have her own sword? She has Támerlein, reworked to suit her better. If that was possible why not do that for Eragon in the first place?!

This question has haunted me for 12 years.

[inheritance-cycles]

How funny would it be if Arya just made up a significant part of the Menoa tree story to shut down Eragon’s advances?

Like a few centuries later he’s talking to another elf and realizes it’s very much NOT a romantic love story and just a tale about a lady loving trees so much she fuses to one, and Arya just made up the whole cheating sub-plot to send him a message.

*looks at smudged writing on hand* “so yeah. This dude was being a fuckhead and cheated, so he got murdered. Learn of that what you will”

[concha-de-mar]

OKAY THEORY TIME.

If Eragon is actually fated to leave or never return or whatever the prophecy thing said, I think it’ll have something to do with the Menoa tree

[alagaesia-headcanons]

have you headcanons of what the Menoa Tree did to Eragon when he has...."attacked" her to take the metal?

To be totally honest? I really don't, unfortunately. I have a lot of personal ideas to fill in many of the plot holes or omitted details in the Inheritance Cycle, but I've never been able to come up with an answer for this that satisfies me. I remember reading some theories other people posted a long while back, like one that posited that the Menoa Tree took Eragon's "roots", his connection to his home, because that's something a tree would value and that's part of why he leaves at the end of the series. I think it's a nice idea and can fit the themes, but for me it feels too vague and intangible to fit quite right. I saw someone else suggest the tree took Eragon's ability to have children, which is a much more concrete possibility, but I can't fathom any real reason the tree would want to do that.

For me, I would want it to be something more tangible than an abstract concept that would have a reasonable meaning to the Menoa Tree as an entity, but I've never come up with anything that fits the bill.

[angst-and-fajitas]

You 🤝 me

Read eragon (👀 I'm very interested tho is there any other characters you liked?)

I know I really liked Nasuada too, I remember the trial of long knives and also that bit where she figures out she can make money for the varden by making lace with magic as being such great moments to show her resourcefulness and determination as a leader despite how young and overwhelmed she was with her position

I also really loved the dwarves and the scenes in farthen dur, their culture always was super interesting-- while paolini's elves were pretty much straight from Tolkien, it felt like his dwarves were much more his own, and things like the star sapphire and their pantheon of gods really interested me. And of course I loved the DRAGONS, because Saphira was always a fun character with a good sense of humor, but also what ten year old isn't totally obsessed with dragons LOL. I also liked Oromis, I think he was a lot of the inspiration behind Icellus actually. Oh, and Elva was really interesting!! Just a really good example of an author giving their heroes lasting, nasty consequences for even innocent mistakes. And as a kid, I also remember being kinda obsessed with the menoa tree, I don't think it really counts as a character but WHAT a tasty concept

[ashleybenlove]

The Menoa tree makes me think of Pando.

[modern-inheritance]

Modern Inheritance: Mates (One Word Prompt Story)

Set in that ambiguous time period of MIC's plot where Dras Leona happened in Inheritance but Nasuada wasn't captured and the war kept dragging on.

(A/N: I can't say I'm back, but it is good to be writing again. I don't know where this romance muck came from but I'd be lying if I said I wasn't oddly fond of it. It started as a humor piece and then actually got serious for a bit. This could be considered a follow up to the other one word prompt Wonder. Hope you enjoy!)

Eragon ran his fingers through his hair again, doing his best to comb it back to its normal disarray. 

‘Do I look normal?’ He turned to Saphira, palms out and held away from his body as he did a quick 360 spin. He was pretty sure his clothes were fine, he had stopped by his tent to grab a fresh set but hadn’t been able to find a mirror.

The dragon snorted, an undercurrent of laughter weaving through her voice. ‘Normal? Do you mean to ask if you look like you just had a wild rut with your bodyguard and eternal infatuation for the first time last night?’ Saphira lowered her head and regarded him with one large eye, mirth dancing in the pre-dawn light reflected there.

Eragon felt his ears promptly turn a dark crimson. ‘Could you please stop calling it that?’ He pleaded. ‘It makes it sound so…animalistic. It was more than that, it was….’ The young Rider trailed off, his face heating up as well as memories of the encounter began flitting to the forefront of his mind. ‘I shouldn’t be thinking about it right now. Just…do I look okay?’

Saphira contained her giggles as best she could. She knew what the previous night meant for Eragon, what it meant for his heart and what it meant for them both as a bonded Rider and Dragon. She could feel underneath his nerves that the young man was practically leaping with joy, his heart singing with a completion that had evaded him for so long. Teasing him was fun, especially with how flustered he was in the moment, but she would never leave him without support. Even when letting him squirm was exponentially more entertaining. 

So she cocked her head this way and that, gently nudged him slightly to get a better look, and gave him a cursory sniff. ‘You still smell like sex.’

‘Saphira!’ 

‘Not enough for the elves to detect.’ The dragon assured. After looking him up and down one more time, bobbing her head, Saphira gave him a gentle chuff. ‘You look fine. Very normal.’ 

Eragon let out a sigh of relief he didn’t realize he was holding. ‘Thank you.’ Still a bit nervous, he nodded towards the makeshift pens the Varden had set up to hold their animals. ‘I guess if you want something to eat, now’s the time.’ 

Saphira merely folded her paws over each other and rested her head on the ground. ‘I hunted last night. I will wait for you here.’ She gave him a nudge with a short blast of air from her nostrils, pushing him towards the near empty mess tent. ‘Go on. Be normal.’

He gave her a nervous smile and pushed through the flap, trying to hide the excited shaking of his hands.

Inside the tent was dim, lit only by a few soft lanterns scattered throughout. His elven bodyguards were already arrayed at several tables, eating their breakfasts before dawn as they usually did. The quiet murmur of their voices only paused for a moment when Eragon entered, and then returned to the low mumble of a typical morning. 

Collecting his food from the trays set out by the cooks, Eragon quickly found a seat across Brom and Glenwing at an otherwise empty table. 

“Morning.” He nodded to them both. Just be normal. 

“Good morning, Eragon.” Glen smiled, raising two of his mechanical fingers in greeting. 

Brom just grunted, hunched over his coffee. 

First hurdle crossed. Relieved, the young Rider ducked his head and began attacking his breakfast. Who knew that spending a majority of the night entangled in someone’s arms would be so draining? 

So focused on his meal, Eragon didn’t notice when Glen glanced up and did a sudden double take. Nor when the elf nudged the young man’s father beside him.

Eragon did notice when Brom suddenly choked on his coffee. 

He looked up, concerned, as the old man coughed and banged his chest, face turning red. “Hey, you okay?”

“Totally fine.” Brom wheezed. There was no mistaking it. That was definitely there. Brom was still getting used to being a proper father, no matter the smattering of years that passed since revealing his relation to the boy. He couldn’t tell if he should be proud, worried, or angry. 

Glen just hid his smile with a sip of his tea. Taken them long enough. He was happy for them. 

A few minutes later the tent flap brushed open. Eragon stiffened his muscles, resisting the urge to turn. He knew exactly who had just walked in. They had planned it after all. Don’t show up at the mess together, or too close together. 

“Good morning, sir.” He could hear some of the sleepiness still in her voice as she greeted Blödhgarm as normal, could practically see in his mind's eye the way she tapped her knuckles to her chest in a tired elven salute. “Reporting for duty.”

“Good morning, Arya.” Blödhgarm’s smooth voice remained even. Good. He didn’t notice anything. 

The relief trickling in abruptly halted when Blödhgarm suddenly let out an uncharacteristic choked cough. But that had to be just a coincidence, because Eragon could hear that Arya was already walking by as it happened. Her footsteps stopped though, and he could hear her turn back. 

“You alright?”

Blödhgarm cleared his throat. “Quite. Anything to report?”

Eragon could hear the shrug in her voice. “No. All quiet.” When the fur covered elf didn’t respond beyond a hum, Eragon felt his tensing shoulders slump back to relaxed. Must have been dust or something.

A few moments later Arya put her tray down next to Eragon’s, sitting beside him at the bench. “That was weird.” She frowned, scooping up a bland forkful of tofu scramble. “Did he pick something up the last time the Queen’s scouts came by?”

Eragon shrugged. “Maybe?” He looked to Glen across the table, the medic doing his best to keep a straight face. “Did he talk to you about anything?”

“Uh-uh.” Glen shoved a torn piece of bread into his mouth while mumbling the negative. That would do for now.

Brom, however, sat with his mouth hanging open. He snapped it shut when Arya looked up, but apparently he hadn’t been fast enough.

Arya squinted at him suspiciously. “What’s wrong with you, old man?” 

Caught and flustered, the old Rider opened and closed his mouth a few times. He had known there wasn’t really anyone else who could have left that on his son, but seeing as the woman in front of him with one as well had left him somewhat shellshocked. 

After a few moments of Arya staring at him with a raised eyebrow and his chance catching flies rapidly increasing, Brom managed to sputter, “Any–...Anything you two want to tell us?”

“What?” Arya frowned. Brom reached up and jerkily tapped the side of his head. “What are you–” Her eyes suddenly went wide. “Oh. Oh no.”

Eragon whipped his head around. “Oh no?”

Arya lowered her rapidly blushing face into her hands with a groaned, “We didn’t.” It was more of a plea than a statement. 

“You did.” Brom confirmed. 

“Please tell me we didn’t!”

“You did!” Glenwing laughed.

Eragon looked between the three of them, incredulous. “Would someone please tell me what’s going on?” 

From behind her hands, her head now lowered to the table and her ears turning as dark scarlet as Eragon’s had, Arya half laughed and half mumbled, “We marked each other as mates last night.” 

Still laughing, Glen reached across the table and tugged his former CO’s head to the side. On the tip of her opposite ear Eragon saw a dark bruise, clearly outlining a bite mark. His hand flew up to the tips of his own ears, and with a rapid blush he felt a slight bolt of soreness on his left. 

“Oh.” He looked down at his food. “Well, that’ll do it then.”

The tent filled with soft laughter, and with a jolt Eragon realized it was the other elves. 

“About time!” Yaela called, shaking her head with a smile. “We’ve been waiting.” 

“Seconded on that.” Glen beamed. “Half of us were about to start putting bets on you two.”

Blödhgarm’s sonorous voice cut through the rabble. “As long as this does not affect your duties–” 

“It won’t.” Arya was standing, face still splashed with color but her expression firm. “It never has and it never will. And from all of you!” She pointed menacingly at the other tables where her kind gathered. To Eragon’s surprise, the laughter and jovial attitude died immediately. “Not a word of this leaves this tent. This is our business, so no hint of this goes in any official or unofficial reports. Understood?” 

Blödhgarm cocked his head and raised an eyebrow. The elfling typically followed the loose command structure set since he and the rest of the spellcasters had arrived. This was a bold move, though in truth he had long ago learned to expect those from the Queen’s daughter. 

He nodded. “Understood.”

Arya dropped back onto the bench, leaning against it for support as she looked suddenly drained. “Good.” She rubbed her forehead. “Okay, good. That’s the main thing. Okay.” 

The tent slowly returned to the soft murmur of quiet conversation, though this time a little more hushed. Arya turned back to her food, poking at it with a fork as the other occupants of the table did the same.

“Sorry about that.” Eragon looked over at Arya’s mumble. “I…I got scared for a second. Islanzadí….” She closed her eyes, and took a breath. “I just don’t want someone else telling her.” 

“No one will.” Glen assured. The two across from him looked up. “And I want to say congratulations to you both.”

Brom cleared his throat and set down his coffee mug. “I am…entirely unsure as to what I’m supposed to do in this situation but…” He nodded. “I’m happy for you two as well. Just…be careful.” 

The acceptance of his father instantly sent a broad smile across Eragon’s face. “Thank you.” The wiggly glimmers of excitement had wormed their way back into his chest, making his heart flutter. 

Arya, however, wore a half twisted smirk of trepidation and amusement on her lips. “You’re both going to tease us mercilessly about this, aren’t you?”

‘They’ll have plenty of help with that.’ Saphira’s toothy grin flashed through the minds of the four at the table. 

The elf shook her head with a laugh. “Fine. I guess there’s no avoiding it.” 

Eragon shook his head, and for the entirety of breakfast didn’t lose his smile. 

~~

It wasn’t until after, a few days after in fact, that the young Rider and his original bodyguard had a moment of time alone again. They didn’t spend the time as passionately as they had that night, but instead sat together in Eragon’s tent, letting the quiet drape over them. 

In some ways, Eragon mused, their relationship hadn’t really changed. They had done this before as friends many times, just sitting together in a little piece of solitude away from the war and tumultuous world around them. It had taken time for their shoulders to touch but from that point on they leaned on each other for support, a moment of contact that didn’t signify danger or a brief spark of comfort that would flit away. 

The only difference was that this time Eragon was sprawled out, his head resting in the elf’s lap as she gently combed her fingers through his hair. His own fingertips wandered her side, feeling the muscles beneath shift as she breathed. Occasionally his palm would slide over her hip to lay flat on her back, relishing in the warmth that seeped from her skin to his.

They stayed like that for a time before the young Rider tilted his head upwards. “Arya?”

“Hmm?” She brushed his bangs away from his eyes. He’d probably ask her to help cut his hair again soon. It was getting longer than he usually preferred, the back nearly touching his shoulders.

“What the others noticed before. The marks. What’s it mean?” 

“Oh.” 

Eragon sat up when her hand paused. “You don’t have to–”

“No. No, you should know.” Arya was blushing again, and Eragon couldn’t help the soft laugh that escaped his lips. She had so rarely blushed before, but now, having to explain the base instincts of her race to him had her stomach turning in knots. “Many elves don’t commit to a partner. When they do, it’s…it’s expected to be long term. Like, long term.” She bit her lip, trying to find the best words. “We instinctively marked each other because of the whole…pheromones…thing. And usually that mark means that we’ve committed to each other. Exclusively.”

Eragon frowned slightly. “So...did we essentially get married while having sex?”

Arya laughed at that. “No! But…it just means we’re monogamous. Usually there’d be more talking about it first.” She looked down, her voice dropping. “I…I didn’t mean to lay claim to you like that without asking. I should have asked, and it’s considered practically illegal to do so without asking. I…” She took another deep breath. “I do love you, Eragon. And I also know that you are young, and could have anyone you want. You reciprocated the bite because of instinct, without knowing what it meant, and I shouldn’t have let it get to that point.”

Concerned at the rising distress in her voice, the young Rider slipped his fingers between hers and squeezed her hand. A pang hit him when her grip remained loose. 

“I should have asked you and explained it. And if you want to reject it then we can just heal the marks, you don’t have to be bound by–” 

He was relieved that his lips on hers silenced her. Her fingers immediately found his hair as he leaned into her, his own hand falling to the back of her neck to hold her close. When he pulled back he felt a tingle of pride that Arya was somewhat breathless. 

“Well, if you should have asked….” He murmured, pressing his forehead to hers. “Ask me now.”

“What?” She fumbled, lightly putting a hand to his chest. “Eragon, you don’t have to–”

He shushed her gently, brushing her lower lip with his thumb. “How do I ask then?” He didn’t know why she looked so dumbfounded. He hadn’t exactly kept how much he loved her, how much he had wanted her and wanted her by his side forever, a secret. Worry wormed its way into his mind. What if she didn’t? What if that night was all just pheromones and battlefield friendship being mistaken by biology for genuine love? “I won’t if you don’t want me t–”

“You use my name. You ask if I will be your mate until the sun burns out or our feelings fade the same.” The words tumbled from her mouth in a rush. Her dark eyes looked into his, and for a moment Eragon saw past the rough and tumble exterior, the battered memories and steely conviction, all the things he had thought he had seen through before and he saw something new. She was pleading with him, begging for him to say the words despite the fear that kept sneaking up, the fear of losing him like she had lost so many others and the fear that one day his feelings would fade, that he would turn away from her to find another. 

Eragon met her gaze and gently cupped her face in his hands, nose to nose with the woman he couldn’t even begin to describe how he felt so strongly for. 

“Arya Dröttningu, will you be my mate until the sun burns out or our feelings fade the same?” He smiled softly, his voice that low rumble again. “But mine won’t.”

Arya’s fingers tightened in his hair and she closed her eyes, teeth digging into her lip. The last time she made this claim, the man she held had indeed burned out with the sun. He was buried leagues away, beneath sun dappled pines and with a black morning glory climbing the trunk of his living grave marker. That pain, that ache, the feeling of seeing him fall, it never went away. 

Except when she was with him. Except when she felt Eragon’s arm around her shoulders the last few months, except when he couldn’t help but hug her after losing sight of her on the battlefield, when he looked at her with those dark eyes of his, when he laughed, when he touched her at all and when he slid his wonderful hands across her bare skin that night and stole her breath from her lungs with every damn kiss. It had happened so slowly yet so fast, and even though the pain was still there she could pass it by and know. 

Know that it was okay. Know that Fäolin would have wanted her to have someone again. Know that Eragon was here, and alive, and she’d do everything she could to keep it that way. Know that she was the bodyguard this time, know that he would be safe with her, with Saphira, with Brom, with everyone else and everyone in the Varden was working to keep this one man and his partner of heart and mind alive. 

And the King be damned if he was going to try and take another from her. 

Fuck, she really did love him. And he had made it clear that he loved her. 

She was already saying it, eyes open and locked to his.

“I will. Eragon Bromsson, will you be my mate until the stars burn out or our feelings fade the same?” She slid her hand over his, murmured against his lips, “Mine won’t either.”

“I will.”

When Arya pulled back she was met with one of the most Eragon expressions she had ever seen. He was beaming ear to ear, eyes shining with that childlike light that always had her on the edge of laughter. He was practically shaking with excitement, and suddenly grabbed her hands.

He dropped off the cot and onto one knee, clasping both her hands in his and kissed them, trying to hide the giddy smile. “We’ve done it your way, now I get to do it mine. Arya Dröttningu, will you marry me?”

At that Arya couldn’t help but laugh. He was too much. “I’ve told you, elves don’t marry, you big dope!”

The smile never faded. “Then can I at least get you a ring? I can make them like Roran’s and Katrina’s, we’ll never have to be wondering what part of the warzone we’ve managed to get to again!” Eragon was practically bouncing, and again pressed his lips to her knuckles. “Pleeease?”

Damn it. The way he looked at her from under his bangs, gaze a mixture of pleading puppy and somehow alluring, made it nigh impossible to refuse him. Laughing again, Arya shook her head in disbelief. What had she gotten herself into when falling in love with him? “Fine! Fine. But nothing fancy!”

The bouncing increased. “Can I say we’re married?” Arya’s sharp frown still did little to dissuade his joy. He knew better than that, knew that she didn’t like that kind of personal information being slung around the Varden where any spy could seize on it. “No. Okay. Can I at least tell Roran and Katrina that we’re officially mates?”

Arya sighed, teasingly making it sound as long-suffering as possible. “You can tell Roran and Katrina. Brom and Glen already know, but you can tell them it’s official if you want.”

The elf jumped when Eragon let out an elated whoop and leapt to his feet. “Saphira!” He was out of the tent before Arya could blink, and then back again, grabbing her hand and pulling her out with him. “Saphira, we need to go see Roran and Katrina right now!” 

As Saphira launched them into the sky with a bugle, rippled with her own draconic laughter at her Rider’s joy, Arya just shook her head again and laughed with them. Whatever the hell she had just gotten into, it would certainly be interesting. 

[fansandtheic]

Paul's Story

I have always been a huge fan of the series. I have read ( or listened on Audible and or YouTube) them 25 TIMES. I spent 2 years looking in every store I could to find the series. But to the point in 2017 I had been reading the books when I was told I was going to be a dad. We couldn't decide on a name when I got the idea to look in the book Eragon. I told my then girlfriend that whatever my finger landed on we would name our son. Luckily it landed on Roran and he fits Roran to the letter. Thank you so much for many great great memories. Two questions if you don't mind.  First I'm sure you get tired of being asked but I cant find any answers did the Menoa tree take Saphira's ability to lay eggs? Second when Eragon told Oromis the name of his sword and he said I wonder what did he mean?

[unmak3r]

[𝐤𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐥, 𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐧, 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐰𝐨 𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐦𝐞́𝐫𝐚 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐫. ] conceived eighty-five years after the previous female elf child, arya dröttning, daughter of the king and queen. she is one of only two children in ellesméra, the other is the male elf dusan, elf children are rare and cherished. dusan has kept his name, whilst she has changed both her common name and her true name when she was sixteen. two years prior to eragon's second visit to ellesméra, during the rider war, the then-named alanna set off alone to traverse the expanse of du weldenvarden. the elves guarding forest covers the northern part of alagaësia, and she was gone for a whole year, though shares very little of her tales with others; as it is a sad one in essence.

the elf child had been pondering, for years now, how the magic she was born with would fade in the coming decades. it was the natural way, it was the way for all elves, but the idea of it ... of losing the special way she currently existed within the magic of the world, it created a sadness in her heart. she had often spent time communicating with the menoa tree, and sleeping within it's base roots as a child. as she thought about how that ability, too, would fade into elven adulthood her sadness grew deeper. then, she remembered the tale of how the tree came to exist, and so... she laid back against a tree of the same age as herself, in the western part of the forest, and began to sing her spells; she'd cease to be herself & would become one with the tree itself; a guardian of flora and fauna and elves alike.

but ... a familiar voice entered her mind as she began; it was the menoa tree — reaching through root and vine across the entire forest. "... no." as simply as that, the spell ended. it was this interaction that changed her true name ... her personality and nature altered to the point she became a new person in essence. from this point onwards, she has gone by the common name kelerel (no longer alanna) and her true name has been revealed to no one.

"Our children are special. They are blessed with certain gifts—gifts of grace and gifts of power — which no grown elf can hope to match. As we age, our blossom withers somewhat, although the magic of our early years never completely abandons us." ... rhunön, the elven smith, the "most skilled smith in the world." brisingr, ch. 51; mind over metal

canonly described as extraordinarily beautiful, even by the standards of the elves, with a solemn tear-drop-shaped face that appears wise and innocent in equal measure. as she is still in her youth, again using elven standards, her skin displays a faint, silvery sheen due to the child-hood power elves are born with; it is a visual aura of magic. [it is documented that, from the point of eighteen or nineteen, this youthful aura of power begins to fade until they appear as adult elves do.] she is a gifted singer and flautist, and has trained primarily with spear and sword as most all elves do. kelerel is incredibly willowy, pale-haired and skinned, and dainty ... as such some say she appears to almost 'float' when performing her aerial leaps and maneuvers in combat; like a fair flower dancing through the air.

AGE REF: she has been aged up due to the source material being y.a; thus she is eighteen years old, and is eighty-five years younger than arya dröttning.   she is based on the canon, unestablished, alanna, the elf child from paolini's third book in the inheritance cycle, 'brisingr.'

𝐈𝐍𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐂𝐘𝐂𝐋𝐄 𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐄. 𝐀𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐀, 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐄𝐋𝐅-𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐃 𝐎𝐅 𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐌𝐄́𝐑𝐀.

[serious-tabaxi]

*Menoa comes to the scene.*

Menoa: looks like that's one of Ciernen's trees, there. what happened? he's super careful about not planting those unless absolutely necessary...

“Shop is open”

1 - Rift and eyes - 58 currency

2 - Arch - 25 currency

3 - Magic lamp - 20 currency

4 - Symbolic sun - 70 currency

5 - Divine scalpel - 55 currency

6 - Metal plate of the hull of runak - 10 currency

7 - Staff head of creed - 78 currency

————————

"Wizard Essentials"

————————

Staff - Cain - 10 currency

Orb - eye - 10 currency

Robes - green - 1 currency per robe

————

"Consumables"

————

1 - Health Potion - 5 currency

2 - invisibility Potion - 15 currency

3 - potion of health - 10 currency

4 - healing tablet - 10 currency

——-

"Salt"

@bi-gender-sorcerer @damnable-druid @ignisuadaroleplay @serious-tabaxi

[lords-of-the-empire]

So apparently someone on Reddit correctly guessed what the Menoa Tree took from Eragon, and CP confirmed that they got it right but didn't say who they were or what was taken.

I’m seeing several posts about the Menoa planting the seed for another Menoa tree in Eragon, which is super fucked-up if true, and some comments in the relevant post where they discussed the confirmation that it may have been Eragon’s figurative “roots” to Alagaesia that were taken (which is also fucked but in a different way, if true).

Pest eller kolera, as we say in Swedish. Between these two I’m hoping for the roots, since roots can grow back. It’d be genuinely hideous for the Menoa to freaking stealth-inseminate Eragon just so there can be another massively assholeish tree somewhere else. Like Linnea, learn your fucking lesson already and stop cradlerobbing.