Unknown Lord

A black cloaked figure stood outside of the Governor's house. The stranger was letting the people of the town believe that he was a traveling peasant who covered his face to to his face being burnt by the enemy's stinging acid.

But he was not burnt, nor was he at all injured. He was a ranger of the North. You don't find them alot in this small village. Hiding his identity was indeed very difficult. Nobody knew his name. And if anybody had found out, they were already dead. No questions asked.

People walked by thinking that this new stranger was very dangerous. They gave him a new nickname. Of all of the ones that people had given him, he enjoyed this one the most. The called him the Silver Wolf. He gladly took this name as his own and reacted to it when people spoke to him. But he never replied to them. He waved his hand, as if dismissing them from his presence.

This stranger sat down in a pub one quiet night. The pub was loud with drunk men drinking mead, rum, and beers. Sitting ina quiet corner, he made himself comfortable, and lit a long pipe. Bringing his hood lower over his eyes, he shaded his face so no one could see. Gray eyes reflected the light and a dark and lightly scarred face caught the fire light.

But no one sat with the lone ranger.

A shout rang out and people shouted, "Eragon! Nice to see you maboy!" Men leapt out of their seats to greet this newcomer. Leaning forward, the stranger inspected the teenager standing in the middle of the crowd.

He looks young. How could he be friends with these scurvy mongrel men? I could never be friendly with them. the ranger thought to himself.

He saw the boy called Eragon sneak a peek at his little corner and the ranger cautiously pulled his hood lower over his eyes. No one could see his face.

"How's yur uncle doin, kid?" asked a burly drunk man standing next to him. Eragon made a sympathetic look at the drunk man.

"He's alright I guess, Horst. The burns are still really bad, and his fever hasn't broken yet," Eragon paused, "but I'm sure that he will be fine!"

Now it was the men's turn to give him sympathetic glances.

What's wrong with his Uncle? thought the ranger. The boy slid off his gloves slowly, as if it would be life-changing if someone saw his palm.

What? What is this boy doing?

Then, the ranger saw the scar. A round scar that covered his thumb and his palm. The ranger recoiled in surprise. A Rider? How could this be? You must be kidding me! Eragon peeked over at the ranger, and leaned over and whispered to one of his mates.

The man gave a quick glance at the ranger, whispered something back into Eragon's ear, and shrugged dismissively.

Eragon took a step forward slowly. The ranger held his breath and waited to see if he would come over to him.

Indeed he did. Walking more confidently, Eragon sat down across the table from the ranger. The ranger sat back quietly and waited for the boy to talk.

Eragon spoke slowly. "You are new?" he asked.

The ranger chuckled and leaned forward, amused. And for the first time since he entered this village, he spoke. "No."

Eragon's eyebrows furrowed in thought. "If you are not new, then what is your name?" This man must have stayed in is house all of his life if I do not know who he is. I know everyone in this village!

This time, the ranger laughed out loud, then said, "My name is the Silver Wolf."

Curious, Eragon reached over to his hood covering as if to uncover his face. Before Eragon even knew it, he was on the floor, bleeding from the nose.

Leaning in close to Eragon's face, the ranger whispered, "That was very rude." and stalked away, with a limp in every step.

Eragon wiped away blood from his face, embarrassed. He was thrown to the floor in public. By someone that he didn't even know. But now, the only thing running through his head, was He didn't even seem to touch me. How did he do that? Like, like...MAGIC.

Who could this man be? A mystery...

The burly man called Horst walked slowly towards Eragon, then grabbed him from under his shoulder and hoisted him to his feet. Eragon silently wiped dirt from his backside, and looked at all of the shocked faces in the pub. He tried to smile, but his cheekbones would not cooperate, and it turned out as a grimace.

Leaning in towards Horst, Eragon asked, "Are you sure that you have no idea who that man is?" Horst shook his head and groaned, clutching his stomach.

"I'm tellin' ya this, Eragon, the beer here ain't agreein' with me tanight, and apparently needer is dat man, so jist try to stay in the dark when yur innywhere 'round him, yuh unnerstan me, boy?" Horst said, slurring his words slowly. He took another hearty swig of beer and started to walk off.

Eragon nodded, still rather embarrassed from his rough encounter with the ranger. Following Horst out of the door, he took one last look inside of the pub. Men were still watching him, interested. Shaking his head roughly, Eragon slipped out into the night.

When he stepped outside, Horst was out of sight.

Unsure of where to look for Horst, he veered to the right, and there stood the ranger. His eyes still covered by the hood, he looked menacing as ever with his sword in his hand, and a mysterious grin planted on his face. Eragon stumbled backwards, frightened by the sudden appearance by the stranger.

Growling under his breath, the ranger reached out a hand, and clasped onto Eragon's tunic, and no matter how hard Eragon struggled, he could not escape.

And with a forward thrust, the ranger pushed Eragon into the forest, and he jumped in after him. Relying on his instincts, Eragon ran farther into the woods, heading into the Spine. Hoping that the man would end the chase because he was frightened, he slowed his pace. But the ranger was still running. Still chasing.

Eragon took a deep breath and began running again. But to no avail. After the first five steps, he was on the ground, tangled in the cloak of the ranger.

With a sideways glance, Eragon could see the rangers' eyes flashing with triumph...and could it be? Curiosity?

With a burst of energy, Eragon reached out and tore the ranger's cloak right off. With a hiss of anger, the ranger jumped to his feet, and held his sword at Eragon's throat.

Indeed, the ranger had a right figure. His figure was compact like a runners' and he was in all black and dark green, a way to camoflauge himself.Eragon peeked down and saw why the ranger had been limping before. A tight, bloodstained bandage was tied around the ranger's knee, but no sign of a limp was to be seen yet.

Looking up again, Eragon could see that the ranger wasn't even breathing that hard from the chase. The ranger glared at Eragon with such intensity that he had to look away, and stare at his bloody knee.

Dark shoulder length hair hung stringy and loosely. His face was gaunt and his eyes were a piercing gray. Silver is right. He's pretty creepy.

The ranger grimaced as his wound twinged, but held his ground as Eragon got up on his knees.

Eragon dipped his head in a movement of defeat.

"You have much to explain, boy." the ranger growled. Confused, Eragon looked up into the eyes of the man.

Good-looking as he was, Eragon was more intrigued by his steadiness and total control. I could never accomplish such composure, Eragon thought to himself.

"Get to your feet, O Rider." the ranger ordered. Eragon nearly jumped at the sudden command. He knows!

Getting to his feet, Eragon studied his surroundings. He gasped. This was where he had found Saphira's egg! How did I lead the stranger here? he wondered to himself.

Eragon looked the ranger in the eye. This man was indeed very powerful, but would Eragon dare to try and run away from him again.

The ranger lowered his sword. "Do not try, Rider. I am weary and I do not have the strength to chase you any longer." The ranger groaned and lowered himself to the ground, sheathing his sword.

Seeing that the ranger had sheathed his weapon, Eragon dropped his fighting stance and planted himself on a rock.

"Who are you?" Eragon asked suspiciously. The ranger started to unwrap the rag tied around his knee. He ignored the question.

This time impatiently, Eragon repeated, "Who are you?" The ranger sighed and leaned back on a rock, as if tired.

Then he stood up and looked into Eragon's eyes. "No man of consequence." he simply said. Eragon got the feeling that the ranger was telling the truth.

"Then what do you want with me? Why are you in Carvahall?" Eragon showered him with pointless questions.

The ranger put up a hand to stop the questions and Eragon's mouth snapped shut. "I want you because you are a Rider. I was in Carvahall because I was. I am nothing of consequence, so what is the point of knowing my name?" the ranger told the dumbstruck boy.

Eragon nodded thoughtfully. "Right, and what do you want again? I don't believe I caught that." Hoping that his cockiness would make the ranger hate him, he cocked his head and fluttered his eyes.

The ranger found this amusing. He laughed out loud. "Before I start with this whole explanation, I will need a healing," he motioned at his wounded knee, ", and a place to stay for the night."

Eragon nodded. "Done."