"I'll give you some new wards as well." "No, save your strength. I can take care of myself." Eragon insisted, but Roran kept refusing. Finally, Eragon said, "Blast it! Listen to me. We're about to go into battle against Galbatorix's men. You have to have protection, if only against magic. I'm going to give you wards whether you like it or not, so you might as well smile and thank me for them!" Roran glowered at him, then he grunted and raised his hands. "Fine, as you wish. You never did know when it was sensible to give up." "Oh, and you do?" A chuckle came from within the depths of Roran's beard. "I suppose not. I guess it runs in the family." "Mmh. Between Brom and Garrow, I don't know who was the more stubborn." "Father was," said Roran. "Eh...Brom was as--No, you're right. It was Garrow." They exchanged grins, remembering their life on the farm. Then Roran shifted his stance and gave Eragon an odd, sideways look. "You seem different than before." "Do I?" "Yes, you do. You seem more sure of yourself." "Perhaps it's because I understand myself better than I once did." To that, Roran had no answer."