Sooo, here it is! Mary Sues and Gary Stues galore! A twisted take on the fourth book of the Inheritance Cycle, duly named after its inspiration!

*ahem*

However, I did not read Inheritance until the completion of this story. (well, pretty much complete. I didn't make my final edit until after I spent six hours reading the book. Anyway.) I didn't spend too much time on it; I had several ideas that I'd always wanted to write about and therefore I put it into a story. It's basically rubbish, aside from a few parts that make me happy. So don't bother really criticising; because I don't particularly care about this or feel the need to make it any better. It is what it is, and here it is for your simple enjoyment. Pathetic and cheesy as it is.

Per usual, I do not own anything but my own OC and storyline. Carry on.

Eragon leaped away from Baldor's guarded blade, laughing. "Faster! Faster!" He yelled as he quickly evaded another blow and quickly returned a flurry of hits. "Move your feet!"

Baldor growled, trying to maintain a tense face. "I am! You just move yours faster!"

Saphira bugled from behind them, trying to add authenticity to the fight.

Eragon stumbled, losing control to his laughter, and didn't see Baldor swing another time. Then it hit him.

And all he saw was black.

Eragon heard someone calling his name repeatedly. His mind was disoriented. He'd been sparring with Baldor, but he didn't remember anything after that. Yet here he was in his tent with a headache... a major one at that. What had he done now? Saphira?

He could hear her chuckling. You lost focus and Baldor hit you. And I must say, he can hit hard.

Eragon winced and rubbed his head. Yes, Saphira, I am aware of that.

With a groan, he blocked out her laughter and tried to focus on someone else calling his name. "Come in!"

A rather flustered looking guard came bursting in. "My Lord! Lady Nasuada was just informed of your accident. No one knew where your dragon had taken you-" here Saphira growled, but the guard only swallowed and rushed on. "-or how you were doing. When you were found, your presence was to be requested."

"Of course." Eragon continued massaging his head. "I'll be right there."

The man bowed out of the tent.

Eragon stumbled out of his tent, muttering a healing spell. As his head cleared, he shook it carefully and then straightened. "Right then." Saphira?

Right here. She landed nearly in synch with her words, and offered her leg. She snorted as he clambered up. That was quite a hit you took.

Yes... He's getting better each day. Albriech is more focused on his father's smithy, but Baldor will make an excellent swordsman as long as he continues to apply himself.

Their conversation was short-lived as Saphira landed beside Nasuada's tent. Eragon leaped off her and bowed to the Night Hawks before sweeping aside the curtain. He marched to Nasuada's chair. "My Lady," he murmured, bowing again. "You asked for me?"

He stopped mid-step when his eyes landed on another woman who was leaning nonchalantly on Nasuada's chair. She was dressed like an elf, but her choice of weaponry contradicted that appearance. A black cloak draped down behind her, covering the blade of a dagger that was sheathed on her back. A sword hung from her belt and a quiver from her shoulders... with two more knives attached underneath it.

Eragon glanced down at her feet again when the girl shifted her stance and thought he caught glimpse of another blade shoved down her boot before she crossed her other leg over it. He looked up at her face when she smirked at him, her smoky grey eyes glittering. Her dark, long hair was tied back away from her angular face, but Eragon glanced away from her stare quickly to her hands. They were folded tightly, tense.

She's unnerving, eh? Saphira chortled silently, taking in the girl's face through Eragon's eyes. But rather pretty.

Mhmm... Unnerving, I mean. I can't reach her mind. It's as if it were wrapped beneath Brisingr's blade. I wonder what she's carrying?

Eragon gasped as a fire suddenly alighted on his mind. He clapped his hands to his ears to block out the sudden intensity of pain, before it receded with a mocking, Well met, Argetlam echoing while the sensation faded.

Nasuada slapped the woman's shoulder, and the anguish of his mind vanished as the "fire" extinguished completely. She smiled apologetically at Eragon before pinning a glare on the other. Clearing her throat, she stood up and held out a hand to Eragon.

After he kissed it, she introduced the woman. "Eragon, this is Raylena."

Her voice trembled. Eragon looked up in shock to see tears fill Nasuada's eyes. "She's a dear friend of mine, and until today I thought her dead many years past."

Raylena flashed a bright smile at Eragon, her eyes laughing. "Well met, Argetlam," she repeated, out loud this time, inclining her head.

She held out her hand to shake his, and as she did Eragon noticed the worn leather hand guards she wore. They extended from the base of her wrists to the first joint on her fingers. "You fight much?" He asked carefully.

"Don't we all?" Raylena pulled her hand away before he could grasp it and crossed her arms, eyeing him.

Saphira tensed suddenly. Eragon... Bring her out to meet me.

Is something wrong?

Just do it.

Eragon bowed to the two women. "If you don't mind, M'Lady, Saphira would like to meet your friend.

Nasuada smiled and nodded, so Eragon held an arm out. "After you."

Raylena swept out of the tent, ignoring the Nighthawks, before freezing and staring at the large dragon. Saphira lowered her head down to the woman's eye level. They stood staring at each other for nearly a full minute, unmoving. Eragon tried to listen to Saphira's thoughts, but his dragon was keeping their conversation private. It irritated him, but she only growled mentally when he pushed for information.

As the breeze filtered through the camp, it pressed Raylena's cloak to her back. Eragon focused on it, frowning as a small, lumpy shape began to take shape before the wind receded. What could that be? One thing after another. Who was she, aside from someone who knew Nasuada?

She spun around on her heel, glaring at him. He met her gaze, finding the once-grey a now swirling tempest of fury, opposite of what they had been seconds before. "Weren't you ever taught manners?" Another time, Saphira.

Of course, the dragon inclined her head.

Eragon raised his eyebrows at the conversation that finally reached him. He had to jump back, however, as Raylena brushed past him to reenter the tent. What put a bee in her bonnet? Rather quickly, I might add.

To his surprise, Saphira reared her head up and refused to meet his gaze. Saphira?

Ask her.

Her pointed rebuttal stung, and he bit back a similar response. Saphira... What did she say to you?

Ask her.

Oooo, how undramatic. It gets better. (at least... I think it does. But perhaps I'm simply biased.)