Synopis of Alternate Inheritance Cycle-Eldest: Arya is struggling to come to terms with her feelings for Eragon, made even worse by her promise to Oromis not to become involved with Eragon unless it would be more dangerous to their mission or his training is complete, and the war is over. She believes that with the appearance of Murtagh, it is time to tell him. Howver when he doesn't come back from Helgrind, she must find him herself. That is where we will begin this book.

Disclaimer:Most of the book is an exact copy of Paolini's version with my twist. What's his is his, mine is mine. Please enjoy.

Escape and Evasion- Arya took off after Eragon. Do not die my friend!

A good sixty people filled the room, crowding it to an uncomfortable level. The roar of conversation would have been startling enough to Eragon after his time on the road, but with his sensitive hearing, he felt as if he stood in the middle of a pounding waterfall. It was hard for him to concentrate upon any one voice. As soon as he caught hold of a word or a phrase, it was swept away by another utterance.. Off in one corner, a trio of minstrels was singing and playing a comic version of "Sweet Aethrid o Dauth", which did nothing to improve the clamor.

Wincing at the barrage of noise, Eragon wormed his way through the crowd until he reached the bar. He wanted to talk with the serving woman, but she was so busy, five minutes passed before she looked at him and asked, "Your pleasure?" Strands of hair hung over her sweaty face.

"Have you a room to let, or a corner where I could spend the night?"

"I wouldn't know. The mistress of the house is the one you should speak to about that. She'll be down directly." said the serving woman, and flicked her hand at a rank of gloomy stairs.

While he waited, Eragon rested against the bar, and studied the people in the room. They were a motley assortment. About half he guessed were villagers from Eastcroft, come to enjoy a night of drinking. Of the rest, the majority were men and women-families oftentimes-who were migrating to safer parts. It was easy for him to identify them by their frayed shirts and dirty pants and by how they huddled in their chairs and peered at anyone who came near. However, they studiously avoided looking at the last and smallest group of patrons in the wayfarers' house: Glabatorix's soldiers. The men in red tunics were louder than anyone else. They laughed and shouted and banged on tabletops with their armored fists while they quaffed beer and groped any maid foolish enough to walk by them.

The crowd shifted and granted Eragon a view of a table pushed against one wall. At it sat a lone woman, here face hidden by the drawn hood of her dark traveling cloak. Four men surrounding her, big, beefy farmers with leathery necks and cheeks flushed with the fever of alcohol. Two of them were leaning against the wall on either side of the woman, looming over her, while one sat grinning in a chair turned around backward and the fourth stood with his left foot on the edge of the table and was bend forward over his knee. Although Eragon could not hear or see what the woman said, it was obvious her response angered the farmers,l for they scowled and swelled their chest, puffing themselves up like roosters. One of them shook a finger at her.

The man to the left of the woman suddenly reached down and hooked a finger underneath the edge of her hood, as if to toss it back. So quickly that Eragon barely saw, the woman lifted her right hand and grasped the man's wrist, but then released it and returned to her previous position. Eragon doubted that anyone else in the common room, including the man she touched, had noticed her actions.

The hood collapsed around her neck, and Eragon stiffened, astounded. The woman was human, but she resembled Arya. The only difference between them were her eyes-which were round and level, not slanted like a cat's-and her ears, which lacked the pointed tips of an elf. She was just as beautiful as the Arya Eragon knew, but in a less exotic, more familiar way.

Without hesitation, Eragon probed toward the woman with his mind. He had to know who she really was.

As soon as he touched her consciousness, a mental blow struck back at Eragon, destroying his concentration, and then in the confines of his skull, he heard a deafening voice exclaim, Eragon!

Arya POV

As Eragon made his way towards her, Arya felt quite foolish. While on the outside, her face was a mask, but on the inside, she was screaming with joy. She'd found him and he was alright. She payed little attention to what Eragon told the farmers that were surrounding her as she thought about what she would say to him. She finally decided to say nothing yet. Eragon slipped into the seat next to her. "What are you doing here?"

"Looking for you." For I did not think I could bear to loose you as well as Faolin. After inquiring if he had a room, they rose together, and made their way towards her room. Once in her room, Eragon removed the cloth tied around his head, and Arya removed her cloak.

Eager to start conversation she said, "Saphira said you stayed behind to kill the last Ra'zac and explore the rest of Helgrind. Is this the truth?"

"It's part of the truth."

"And what is the whole truth?"

"Promise me that you won't share what I'm about to tell you with anyone unless I give you permission."

"I promise." she said in the ancient language.

*Because Sloan is not important in the series anymore in this. I will now skip to just after their conversation.*

"You didn't have to come looking for me, you know. I was fine."

"Of course I did." Why did I?

"How did you find me?"

"I guessed which route you would take from Helgrind. Luckily for me, my guess placed me forty miles west of here, and that was close enough for me to locate you by listening to the whispers of the land."

"I do not understand."

"A rider does not walk unnoticed in this world, Eragon. Those who have the ears to hear and eyes to see can interpret the signs easily enough. The birds sing of your coming, the beast of the earth heed your scent, and the very trees and grass remember your touch. The bond between a Rider and dragon is so powerful that those who are sensitive to the forces of nature can feel it."

"You'll have teach me that trick sometime."

"It is no trick, merely the art of paying attention to what is already around you."

"Why did you come to Eastcroft though? It would have been safer to meet me outside of the village."

"Circumstances forced me here, as I assume they did you. You did not come here willingly, no?"

"No. Have you finally abandoned your shirt and trousers?"

"Only for the duration of this trip. I've lived among the Varden for more years than I care to recall, yet I still forget how humans insist upon separating their women from their men. I never could bring myself to adopt your customs, even if I did not conduct myself entirely as an elf. Who was to say yea or nay to me? My mother? She was on the other side of Alagaesia."

Later that night, Arya thought about Eragon. When they had made the sleeping arrangements, she had been tempted to tell him that they could share the bed, but she promised herself to wait until they were out of Eastcroft. She believed that it would be more harmful to remain separate at this point. Besides, Eragon's training is over. Arya mused. With a sigh, she surrendered to her waking dreams, which were filled with the man who was sleeping on the floor.