" Orik was the second to depart, after Roran. Before he did, the dwarf king came over to Eragon and gave him a rough hug. “Ah, I wish I were going with the two of you,” he said, his eyes solemn above his beard.
“And I wish you were coming,” said Eragon.
“Well, we’ll see each other afterward and toast our victory with barrels of mead, eh?”
“I look forward to it.”
As do I, said Saphira.
“Good,” said Orik, and he nodded firmly. “That’s settled, then. You’d better not let Galbatorix get the better of you, or I’ll be honor-bound to march in after you.”
“We’ll be careful,” Eragon said with a smile.
“I should hope so, because I doubt I could do much more than tweak Galbatorix on the nose.”
That I would like to see, said Saphira.
Orik grunted. “May the gods watch over you, Eragon, and you as well, Saphira.”
“And you, Orik, Thrifk’s son.” Then Orik slapped Eragon on the shoulder and stomped off to where he had tied his pony to a bush. "

― Christopher Paolini , Inheritance (The Inheritance Cycle, #4)