A young hero's journey

by EvenGultvedt

I have never been happy with the ending of The Inheritance cycle, and I have never seen any fan fictions written in the style I wanted. The most interesting part, for me, wasn't how the love of Eragon and Arya evolved, though I will write about them too. The most interesting part was how Eragon and Safira evolved as a pair. As Dragon and Rider. They went from the most humble beginn

1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1 - The eggs

When the yearly package of dragon eggs came, from the hatchery at the Dragon Rider Academy in the East, Eamon ran, ran as fast as he had ever ran before, to Carvahall. His highest wish ever was to leave his stinking hut by the lake. His father had died last year, of the cold, and his mother the year before. —Maybe, maybe I can leave this godforsaken place, and become a Rider. To train under Eragon and Safira would be the greatest thing in the world. But he had to come there before the eggs left again. The eggs would not be there for long. After some hours of running, he finally saw the smoke of Carvahall in the distance. He slowed down, the sun was still high in the sky and he had much time to rest before the egg-selections. The egg-selections were for every race, every man, elf, dwarf, were-cat and urgal. They had to be old enough to decide for themselves and then they could hold a dragon egg. If the egg hatched during the stay, the dragon were given to the right rider, and the rider would join on the trip around Älagaesia, and then back to the East, to the Academy.

When Eamon had rested and eaten with the villagers, he sat off to the choosing. The lines were already beginning to form. Everyone stood on one line, being given one egg to hold, and when a minute had passed, they sent it on to the one on their left. Eamon went to the end of the line and waited to hold an egg. They were beautiful, in all colors, white, black, red, green, yellow, pink, and everyone had their own unique pattern. When the turn came to Eamon to hold one, he didn't feel anything special towards it, a little brown egg. The next one also felt like that, and the next, and the next. Almost every single one felt quite dull, except for the fact for their amazing beauty. When he saw the end of eggs coming towards him, he felt hollow inside, and almost didn't look at the egg he had been handed. But he did, and it felt like nothing he had ever felt before. Both fire and ice, churning together in a maelstrom of feelings. The egg itself was the lightest shade of white he had ever seen, purer than the midsummer skies, and the lines on the egg only a slight shade darker. He knew this was the one, but he also knew he had to pass it on.