Today was the day.
Torchlight flickered off the walls in the corridors of Tronjheim, and there was an excited buzz in the air.
"Did you hear?"
"Hear what?"
"Eragon is coming today!"
"I wonder who will be Chosen."
"Who knows? I hope it's me!"
Durin was barely able to keep a grin off his face. He was still rather young, at fifty years of age. Sparse peach fuzz coated his round cheeks, hinting of the beard that was to come. When the Varden had defeated Galbatorax he had been just a babe, but he had heard stories of the brave dragon rider that had freed them from the threat of the empire and secured the future of the dragon race by allowing dwarves and urgals to have the honor of being Chosen as riders.
Every ten years Eragon would come to the Beor Mountains bearing dragon eggs. Sometimes one or two would hatch, sometimes not. A dragon chooses his rider after all. Durin was finally old enough, and he had begged his mother and father to let him try to impress a hatchling.
Today he would see what his future held.
In the great hall of Tronjheim, under the repaired star sapphire (Mother had told him it was dragon magic. How cool was that?) a bazaar was being set up. There was always a great festival on Choosing Day. All the children and young adults would pass by the great table where the eggs laid on soft cushions, brushing each one in turn with their fingers. And now Durin was old enough to join that line.
But the choosing ceremonies would not start for a while yet, and the bubbly pies in the stall by the far wall were calling his name. Trotting to the stand, he pulled out his coin purse. Festivals were few and far in between in Farthen Dûr, so he had been saving his allowance for a while. "Three blueberry pies please!" the little dwarf beamed at the slightly pudgy human lady manning the stall.
"That'll be three half crowns, Laddie" A merry twinkle lingered in her eye as she pulled three of the warm tarts from the cooling rack, each as big as the palm of her hand, and wrapped them in a bit of paper. Durin dutifully counted out the coins and accepted the pastries with a content little grin.
"Thanks, Ma'am" he chirped. Two of the little pies went into his bag, and he started working at the third while browsing the other stalls. Durin was really too excited to actually pay attention to what he was looking at. What if I'm picked? That'd be so cool! All the other dwarves would be so jealous. I would be awesome! Maybe I'll kill a shade or save the world like Eragon!
"Durin? Hey Durin!" The familiar voice pulled the dwarf out of his musings.
"Orin? What are you doing here?"
"It's Choosing Day! Why else would I be here, little Cousin?"
"I'm not little, Orin!" Durin pouted. "And I thought Auntie Finyar was against you trying this year."
"Pshaw!" Orin scoffed. "What she doesn't know won't hurt her. Plus, it's not like she can keep me from going if I'm Chosen." Here he waggled his impressive eyebrows.
Durin puffed out his cheeks. Orin was always so much better than him at everything. His beard was already growing in, he always won in the training yard and he got all the girls. Not that I want girls to like me or anything. Girls are icky! This is something that I'll do better than Orin at, I swear! I'll be the best dragon rider ever! "She's going to get so mad when she finds out!" Durin warned.
"What do you mean when, Durin? You aren't going to tell on me, are you?" Orin narrowed his eyes, then smirked. "I suppose if you must, your mom might hear about what really happened that time all the lemon scones disappeared."
"You wouldn't!"
"Wouldn't what, dear Cousin?"
"Fine. I won't tell." Durin crossed his arms and turned away. Then he saw a small gathering around the main tables. "Look Orin! The line is starting!"
"Then what are we waiting for? Come on!" The older cousin grabbed the younger by the wrist and began pushing his way through the festival attendees.
Where they stood at the back of the line, the two dwarves noticed a tall man with a blend of human and elvish features carefully laying smooth stones of different colors on the cushioned table. Durin's eyes were drawn to one that was silvery white. It shone like silver in the firelight, like water in the sun, like snow under the stars, like rain upon the moon (1). All the talk around him seemed to dull to a low murmur as that stone came into focus. It seemed to call to him somehow. A hard push on his back snapped the dwarf out of his musings.
"What are you doing, you dunderhead? The line's moving!" Orin's gruff reprimand made Durin blush.
"Nothing. Just thinking"
The line moved fast, and soon the two dwarves had reached the table. Durin's heart leapt into his throat as he reached out to the first egg. It was a deep topaz, slightly rough to the touch. As he passed his fingers over the stone-like surface, there was no reaction. A slight pout formed on Durin's lips, but he forced himself to move on to the next.
And the next.
And the next.
And the next.
A frown had started to impose on the young dwarf's face by this point. There was only one left, then he would have to wait ten more years for the next Choosing where Eragon would bring different eggs.
Durin steeled himself. No. There is still a chance. I can do this. Looking in front of him, he noticed that the last egg was the silvery one that had caught his eye before. Swallowing hard, he brought his hand to the stony surface. His short stubby fingers brushed the egg with reverence, but nothing happened. Releasing the breath that he didn't know he was holding, the young dwarf began to turn away from the table in disappointment. That's it. I'm not going to be a rider. I'm not going to have a dragon.
Then Durin noticed that everything had gone silent. Everyone was looking at a spot behind him. All that Durin heard was a small cracking sound. His heart leapt into his throat again, and this time it stayed there as he turned and faced the dragon stone with wide blue eyes. A little silvery dragon was breaking its way out of its shell, clear embryonic fluid spilling everywhere. As Durin locked eyes with the whelp, he didn't dare breathe. It stumbled weakly towards him, crooning loudly. Lifting a shaky palm, Durin extended his hand toward the creature. It looked at him for a moment before brushing its muzzle against the base of his thumb.
A strange feeling washed over Durin, and he might have fallen unconscious if he wasn't a sturdy young dwarf who was quite used to pain from the training yards. When he managed to force himself to breathe again, the dragonet was still there.
HungryHungry FoodFoodNeedFoodHungry A foreign presence urgently pressed against his mind.
The tall elf-man – Eragon his mind supplied him – placed some strips of meat into Durin's numb hands. Immediately the little dragon jumped at the dwarf and began devouring the bloody strips.
Content Happy Love Full When it was finished, the dragonet crawled up Durin's shoulders, curling up and promptly falling asleep.
"Well then, young dwarf. Looks like you've been Chosen." Eragon smiled down at him, hands on his hips. "What do you call yourself?"
"I-I"
"He's Durin, Rider Eragon, sir" Orin spoke for the suddenly mute dwarf. "He's a little slow".
"I am not slow, Orin!" Durin scowled. "You're the slow one". He reddened. "I mean, um, it is an honor to meet you Rider Eragon, I'm Durin, son of Qurin, at your service." He bowed.
"No need to be embarrassed, Lad" Eragon smiled. "I know that meeting your partner can be a little overwhelming. I fainted when I met Saphira!" He chortled.
"I- really?" Durin asked.
"Yup! Scared me half to death she did, but then again I wouldn't have it any other way." He looked back at the giant blue dragon behind him with a small smile. She reached her head over and bumped his forehead with her nose.
'Nor would I, little one' A gentle voice rang through Durin's head.
"What was that? Do dragons talk?"
"When they're bigger, yes. They talk in feelings mostly when they're as small as yours." A large hand settled on his shoulder. "Well, let's get you settled then! Looks like we're staying here for a while until you two are ready to travel."
Durin looked at his little dragon with a smile. "I think we're going to be good friends."
Happy Love Content The dragonet curled its tail a little tighter around Durin's shoulders.
This idea came to me somehow while I was lying awake in my bed the other night. Why was Erebor big enough to house a dragon the size of Smaug? Why was the Arkenstone so important that it pretty much declared the right to rule? What if the Arkenstone was an Eldunarí? What if Durin was a dragon rider and it was his dragon's Eldunarí?
This is likely just going to be a drabble series that I will add onto whenever I get the inspiration. Don't expect a full out epic. I just like my little head canon. Also, dwarven history is going to get really really flubbed in this one, so if you're diehard lore-must-be-absolutely-correct then you might not like it. Any dwarves that you don't recognize are probably OCs (like Orin, Durin doesn't have a cousin so far as I know).
Drop a review if you want. I'd love to see what others think of this idea :)
(1) Quote from The Hobbit.