Author's Note: This is my first attempt at a fan fiction although I am no stranger to writing. I wanted to do something that no one else has done yet, and I thought it would be unique to but the crew (Rage, Hollow, Evanz, Fluke, and co.) in the world of the Inheritance Cycle. I do hope that I can do justice to both Christopher Paolini and the crew. Please comment any suggestions and point out any blatant errors, I do my own proof reading and miss things at times. Other than that, please enjoy.
Chapter 1: Bunnies, Babies, and Dragons
A man sits before a roaring fire that fights off the cold of Alagaësia's winter, contentedly smoking a pipe while staring at the circle of young faces before him. They are his five grandchildren, ages six to thirteen with one set of blonde haired, blue eyed twins. The other three aredark haired, taking more after their father than their mother. It was remarkable really, just how much each of them were like their namesake.
"Tell us a story grandfather," pipes up one of the children, a smile bright on his young face. An explosion of blonde hair sticks out at all angles from his head, his blue eyes are shining with anticipation.
The man blows out a puff of smoke, flooding the room with the sweet smell of tobacco, and smiles at him. Of his five grandchildren Fluke has always seemed to like his stories the best, even wanting to act out parts with the other children.
"What would you like to hear, Fluke?" the man asks, brushing a hand through his own gray tangle of hair and leaning back into the cushions of his wooden armchair.
"But it's my turn to pick this time grandfather." A dark haired grandchild whines before turning his head towards the smallest of the group, "You tell him Evanz."
The man sighs and sits back in his chair to wait out the coming argument. Once they got going, there really was no stopping them and normally it was better just to let them work it out, even though Rage would undoubtedly end up sulking in the corner again.
Evanz turns to look at his brother, Rage, a mop of brown hair falling in front of his eyes as he does so. "Actually, I believe it is Pocket's turn to choose." His speech and mannerisms are surprising in a boy his age, closer to those of his oldest brother than that of an average six year old.
Silence falls for a moment, save for the sound of quiet singing. Pocket, completely oblivious to the conversation, croons softly to the white ball of fluff in her lap. Any of the other children will jump up at the mention of their name, but not Pocket, who so often gets lost in her own little world.
Rage pouts and crosses his arms, turning towards his oldest brother, "Pocket isn't even listening. Hollow, you remember, right? It's my turn."
Hollow leans against the wall next to the fireplace, staring into the flames as they devour the wood. He takes his sweet time answering, thoughtfully sipping from a cup of tea. Rage squirms as Hollow savors his tea. One can tell by the glint in Hollow's eye that he is secretly enjoying making Rage wait. Finally, he says, "Ah, good tea." Rage fidgets so much with anticipation at the answer that he could well be having a seizure. "Rage, stop being a baby and let Pocket choose."
"And here it comes." Evanz mutters as he stares at the faces of his oldest two brothers.
"You stop being a baby! It's my turn, my turn, mine!" Rage leaps to his feet and attempts to shout into Hollow's face. A feat made quite difficult by the fact that Rage barely comes up to Hollow's shoulders.
Hollow's face remains cool and unchanged as he casually takes another sip of his tea. Fluke stares at the two of them delightedly, amused by the spectacle going on in front of him. Evanz wears a look of disgust on his face at Rage's behavior and mutters under his breath about his immaturity.
"Stop fighting! I want to hear a story!" a loud commanding voice pierces the air, silencing the room.
Everyone's attention snaps back over to Pocket. She has ceased singing, and is staring murderously at her brothers. Her hands clutch at the white thing on her lap, a small bunny with a twitchy pink nose. Immediately, everyone sits and faces their grandfather once more. He smiles at his granddaughter, glad for the peace that she has brought upon the room.
"We have decided that it is your turn to choose Pocket." The grandfather says, staring at her small round face with the little blonde braided pigtails.
Rage jumps in, "Actually it was my turn, but I decided that you could choose, Pocket."
The others glare at him, but say nothing. Pocket doesn't seem to notice as her twin, Fluke, has scooted back over next to her and is now petting the bunny too.
"Pocket." The grandfather says, and she glances up at him, "What would you like to hear?"
"Dragons." She says without hesitation. The room is quiet again, the children look at their grandfather, their faces bright and hopeful. Nobody moves except for Rage, who squawks and jumps away from the fire when a log falls and sparks fly up.
Hollow finally breaks the silence. "But… it's forbidden," he says a little uncertainly.
"Nonsense Hollow," their grandfather says, "The only stories that cannot be told are the ones that no longer have people around to tell them. I think you'll find that my tale is quite full of myths and legends. The very sort of tale that all of you will love."
Everyone in the room smiles, even the mostly emotionless Hollow, and Fluke practically starts jumping up and down with excitement. Rage nearly jumps on top of Evanz when a moth flys by his face while Hollow looks on and laughs. Pocket has gone back to petting her bunny, but she stares attentively at her grandfather.
He smiles a little sadly at them, thinking of the people that his grandchildren embodied so well; so many of whom only had their names as a reminder that they once existed at all. Far too few of them could still sit in this house and listen to the tale that was theirs. "If only I could tell them that what they are hearing is true, that they were named after real people, good people. They could know the truth, the whole truth, of those last years before the end. Know that once the world wasn't always so dark and the king so cruel. Instead, they will all think it is a story, a grand thing their grandfather made up." he muses as he sends Hollow fetch him some spiced wine. "But I suppose it will have to be enough." And they all settle in for another one of their grandfather's amazing stories.