Author's Note: Hello everyone. I'm a newbie at writing fanfictions, being this one my first. I really hope you enjoy this. I really don't know what the future will bring me to write, but rest assured I will give my best shot at this.
I ask you to be patient with the grammar mistakes, English is not my first language.
Feel free to review my work. I ask you, if you do, to be completely honest with me. I won't be offended by negative reviews. On the contrary. I will be pleased and stimulated to do better the next time.
Disclaimer: I don't own the Inheritance Cycle. Christopher Paolini does.
A Night for Remembrance
Chapter 1
It's a late, cold night in Carvahall.
By the fireside, in his house, a man is sitting on his favorite armchair wanting some lone time after another day of hard work erecting the so long dreamed castle rounded by boundary walls.
The project alone took him and the master carpenter something like 6 mounts of "brain-storming" before encountering the man's final approval. Maybe someone else would have designed it in lesser time. No doubt on that.
But he was no ordinary man.
He had responsibility. Duties to protect his family for starter. And his "family" did grown quite much in no time.
Because he was Roran Stronghammer. Hero of the war. And Earl of the Palancar Valley.
So his "family" included a large number of people to whom he had sworn to rule and protect.
But not tonight. Tonight he was just an ordinary man sitting by the fireside, resting, while the wrath of the elements stormed outside the door.
Tonight he was just an husband and a father.
Ismira was now 3 and a half years old. And so full of energy quite as much the storm outside.
She was long gone to bed, escorted by her caring mother Katrina, so he enjoyed some well-deserved relax.
He was awaken by a sudden, powerful knock on the door.
"Jeez, I must have fallen asleep again" he thought.
It happened quite often these days. Building a fort is no easy task.
Judging by the fire condition it was not so late in the night, maybe around 11.
He quickly stood up and made his way to the door trying to guess who could be so foolish to step outside his house with weather like that.
What he saw, after opening the door, frightened him.
A lone, hooded figure stood in front of him. No way of guessing who he was. No time to ask information. The doorstep was already starting to become messy because the wind and snow.
He took the hooded stranger's forearm and literally pulled him inside, using all his strength to close the door behind him.
The moment he turned to face his guest, Roran could notice that he was shorter than him by at least 10 cm. His shoulders were not those of a man. "He's just a boy" thought Roran.
But in that moment "he" spoke and, recognizing the voice, Roran was completely taken aback.
"Good evening Roran, it's been a while since we last met" she said.
"A-Arya?" said Roran hesitantly.
The hooded figure took off his mantle and there she was.
Arya, the Elven Queen, Shur'tugal, Shadeslayer and Dragonslayer. The woman his cousin Eragon cherished the most.
Roran, recovering quickly by the shock of the least expected visit, welcomed Arya with a warm, reassuring smile.
"Arya, what a surprise! What do I owe the pleasure of this visit?"
But after the last word left his mouth he could see the distress Arya was feeling.
Most people would not notice it. They'd see the stoic, composed expression held by most of the elves. Rhunön was the exception, of course. The most "human" elf he had encountered in his visit in Du Weldenvarden 3 years before. Arya, however was not the type of person to open herself up to people. No sir.
Roran could tell her altered status thanks to the moment they shared the day Eragon left them and the whole Alagaësia for good. He saw her sadness displayed on her face the moment she landed on the ground next to him. They shared a brief hug, trying to ease each other's torment, with scarce success. In that moment he saw something that he never saw and would never forget. Her eyes full of sorrow, and for a brief moment, the real age of the woman. Eyes full of so much pain he thought impossible for an elf to feel and even show.
"What happened?" He continued quickly, while motioning her to sit by the fire.
She didn't answer right away. Her eyes were looking at him, but her mind seemed far away.
"Thank you" she almost whispered while sitting on the comfortable armchair.
Roran didn't say a word, patiently waiting for her to say something.
After what seemed like an hour she finally spoke.
"Please, Roran. Please, tell me something about Eragon. I want to know about his childhood. I need you to help me quiet the longing and nostalgia that's almost suffocating me right now".
"Wait, wait, wait a second. You need WHAT?" blurt out Roran.
"You came here risking frostbites only to make a trip on the memory lane? At this time at night? Are you insane, Arya?"
"I guess I kinda am..." she whispered again with that wandering look on her face.
"Arya, you're not making any sense. What happened to you? Where's Fìrnen?"
At the mention of her partner of mind and heart her eyes regained life for a brief moment.
"He's not here, if that's what you are asking"
"Where is he?"
"Back in Ellesméra by now, I guess"
Roran couldn't control himself anymore. He stood up and went to the kitchen trying to calm down. He couldn't say to know Arya well enough to call her a close friend, that for sure. But he could guess that being so upset wasn't something usual for her. It was almost like she didn't know what to do.
"I need to calm down if I want to hope to know what is the matter with her." He thought.
He was just thinking if that was the case to heat some water for a tea or a tisane, when he heard the dull sound of a bottle being uncorked. He sighed, and moved back to his armchair, right next the other one were Arya was sitting. On her legs a medium-size flask was resting, after she took a good sip of the beverage inside.
"I guess you're getting something stronger that tea" said Roran, ironically.
"Faelnirv brewed and enchanted by Rhunön herself. No one had the luck to make her say the procedure to recreate it. Want to try some?"
"No, thank you. I think I'll pass. At least one of us needs to stay sober, don't you think?"
"No, tonight I don't" stated Arya with a resolute tone in her voice.
Roran didn't spoke, waiting.
He adjusted comfortably on the armchair, his hands intertwined on his stomach. And simply waited looking at the fire, waiting for her to say something that could make sense.
He was almost asleep when she finally spoke, startling him. "I never had to deal with such feelings, you know?"
He didn't say a word, watching her instead.
"I endured the loss of my father, dealt with the loss of Fäolin…"
"My mate and companion who was killed the night Eragon found Saphira's egg on the Spine. He was killed, along with the elf Glenwing, in the ambush that led me captive of the shade Durza" answered Arya to the silent question on Roran's face. Then she continued quickly, almost fearing a change of mind about speaking with him, if she indulged any longer.
"I survived the torture inflicted upon me by that monster. It took me time, and the help of Eragon, but in the end I came at peace with that hellish experience".
"I had to come at peace with the loss of my mother Islanzadí. Even if we never shared the most easy relationship, I still loved and needed her by my side. I think I still do sometimes".
She stopped for a moment, staring at the fire, in search for something that she didn't found, thought Roran, because after a few moments of intense look she resumed her speech.
"And then he left. He left for good and I cannot deal with it as I dealt the losses and hard times I experienced before".
Roran was about to say something at this point, wanting at least to express his point of view in the matter. But she preceded him.
"And I know by myself that Eragon is not dead and I cannot compare this kind of loss with the previous ones, thank you very much".
At this he started laughing. First very quietly, then loudly enough for Arya to shoot him a spiteful glance in his direction.
"Why do you laugh? Do you think this is funny?"
"Well, honestly a little bit, yes" answered an amused Roran. Then, more seriously "It's funny this situation, not your state of mind, don't get me wrong. You have every right to feel as you like, you know?"
"No, I DON'T!" almost screamed Arya.
"I'm the bloody Elven Queen, for God's sake! How am I supposed to perform well my duties in this state? I don't even believe in God!"
"First of all, quiet." Answered Roran with a concerned tone in his voice.
"If you want to talk, no problem with that. But let's try not to wake my wife and child, please."
A silent moment passed between the two.
"Please, forgive my rudeness Roran. I'm not in my best shape right now" She finally said, taking deep breaths to calm down.
"I got that." Said Roran with a warm and kind smile.
"What I don't understand is the sudden visit. Why now? I will be pleased to tell you anything you want, but before, you need to tell me everything."
"Everything?" Asked Arya.
"From the beginning, if you don't mind"
"Very well then..."
So. I decided to integrate this first chapter with new material. I always hated people calling a few-than-500-words essay, a chapter. I want people to read something that I would love to read, in the ways i like it to be presented. I'm not satisfied with myself.
You know. I consider the author AryaNuanen a true talent and, after following her work for quite some time (anonimously, I'm not a really good reviewer truth be told) I started thinking to write something on my own, trying to imitate her style. As you can see, if you've read her story, this is quite different from her style, and probably I will never reach her level. But in the end it is as it should be. Everyone is different and that's a good thing.
Dear AryaNuanen, if you'll read this, know that your work was an inspiration for this story, and I hope you'll enjoy it. As I hope all the others.
Leave a review if you like. And be honest about it. :)