Disclaimer: I do not own the Inheritance Cycle!

Author's Note: This is a plot-bunny really and will probably not get to be more than one or two chapters, as I only thought of this so far. Still, I couldn't help but write it. I have to say though, that this was largely inspired by the many Soul Bond fanfics in the Harry Potter fandom and it just made perfect sense here. This might have been done before, parts anyways, so I apologise if it has been. So now without further ado, here is the said chapter!

Chapter 1: The Awakening

Greta hummed an old tune to herself as she stirred a simmering cauldron of stew. Meet was hard to come by thanks to the war, so all she had to use was vegetables and broth. Still, her charge did not mind the simple soup as she got ravenously hungry at all times. Any food was good enough for her although she preferred meet.

Greta shuddered slightly, at the mental image of a five-year-old with the eyes of a grown woman stuffing her face with chicken legs. However, that could not be undone. It had come about quite by accident when Eragon Shadeslayer, a Dragon Rider, had blessed the girl when she was a babe.

He had used the Ancient Language, a language supposedly used for wielding magic, but had not been quite so adept at casting spells as he thought he was. Greta herself had beseeched the Rider to bless the orphan child whose parents were killed in the Battle of Farthen Dur, and the crowd of onlookers had taken up her call.

So Eragon had cast a spell using his magic on the child and his azure dragon had somehow used Dragon Magic to form an enchanting star tattoo on her forehead. However, the Rider had been young and did not word the spell properly – or so he said – causing the girl to grow rapidly and eat more than normal.

Her eyes were a stunning violet and she spoke with the voice of a woman, and was as smart as one too. She could feel people's pain and the magic forced her to do whatever she could to stop it. Finally, the Rider was able to heal her but only partially because Elva – in her anger at all the pain she experienced from the curse – stopped him from taking all of the spell away.

Now she had part of it, the important part, but was no longer forced to act when she felt pain. She could use this gift now to her own betterment and had severed her ties with the Varden much to Nasuada's horror, and Angela's anger. Elva had run away for three days and was gone until she stumbled back reluctantly to Greta for food. So here she was, cooking for her young charge again like time's past.

At last, the stew was done so she put out the fire and poured some in a wooden bowl. Setting the bowl in front of the window in the small room they lived in to cool, Greta let out a sigh. Stretching her weary limbs, she smoothed down the wrinkles of her dress and strode over to Elva's 'room'. It wasn't a room, really. Rather it was a thick curtain that surrounded her bed giving her some privacy.

This room was one of the many now-vacant ones left over in the City of Feinster that the Varden had just captured. Seemingly exhausted, Elva had collapsed on her old bed first thing and closed the curtain. Taking a deep breath, Greta crossed the floor space to the bed and pulled back the curtain gingerly. Thunder rumbled suddenly and a flash of lighting illuminated a most shocking sight.

X~X~X~X~X~X

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Angela awoke with a start and stared into the darkness, bleary eyed and a tad bit disoriented. Cursing, she clambered out of bed and slipped a dark cloak over her sleeping gown. Fumbling with two flint stones, she hastily lit a candle and held it high as she was able hobbling over to the front door.

She was always cranky when woken early and now it was far worse being well past midnight. Still, no one would dare wake her unless something was very, very wrong and they needed her help. Reluctantly, she realised that there was only one problem case in the world that could have gotten that bad – Elva.

The witch child had gone from bad to worse ever since Eragon 'blessed' her and it was a miracle she survived the attack of the Laughing Dead. Then she ran away only to come shuffling back for more food.

Dratted girl, Angela fumed. Just how am I supposed to take care of you if you shun everyone around you who can possibly provide you with assistance?

Grumbling at the annoying prat, Angela finally reached the door and creaked it open peering through the crack into the night.

"Who goes there?" She croaked.

"It's me, Greta," A shaking female voice answered.

Perfect, Angela groaned Just what I needed. Another problem.

"Are you alone?" The herbalist demanded.

"Yes," Greta replied timidly.

"Then get in here, woman," Angela barked, feeling extra frustrated at being awoken at this late hour for a brat. "What's wrong?"

She waited impatiently, while Greta stumbled into the room. It was only when Angela held the candle closer that she noticed, to her alarm, that the caretaker's eyes were bloodshot and wild. Her skin was deathly pale and she looked like she had just seen a ghost or worse.

"What happened?" Angela asked.

"It's Elva," Greta babbled. "She...she's grown! I gave her food, but she was sleeping. She was thrashing wildly and her eyes were open yet unseeing while she slept. She was calling for Eragon incoherently. She needs help."

When everything registered fully, Angela cracked a smile.

Has my little girl had her first wet dream? She thought gleefully, almost letting out a cackle.

Sadly, she could not frighten Greta. The poor woman was too distraught as it was. Angela had to take a deep breath to calm herself and turned to the fearful and worried caretaker.

"Take me to her," She said.

This was going to be fun!

Nodding worriedly, Greta hobbled out of the room and stumbled through the maze of back alleys followed closely by Angela. The two women wound their way through Feinster. A wolf howled in the distance sending chills down Angela's spine, but she shook it off and focused on Elva. Finally, they arrived at Elva and Greta's home. The caretaker opened the door swiftly and hurried over to Elva's bed, drawing back the curtain.

Angela braced herself but she could not stifle the gasp that lurched out of her on its own accord when she saw Elva. She did not believe it at first, but the witch-child had indeed grown. She sat wearily on her bed, hugging her knees to her chest and panting for breath. Sweat rolled off her and her eyes looked tired. But that was not the scary thing, the shock was that she now looked like a young and beautiful woman.

Dark brown hair cascaded down her back, contrasting sharply with her pale white skin. The star symbol on her forehead shone with an ethereal glow and the clothes she wore looked much too small for her. Startled and caught completely by surprise, Angela took a step back wondering what the devil would happen next. The uneasy silence was broken by Elva's voice which actually suited her new form.

"Hello, Angela," She said weakly, with a faint smile. "I've grown haven't I?"

"Yes, indeed," Angela said thickly, her eyes wide as saucers. "How did it happen?"

"I do not know all the details," Elva said. "But after Eragon 'healed' me and you cast that spell I began to feel strange. I felt hot and cold at the same time, starving yet full. I was tired and week yet bursting with energy. I was angry and sad and happy all at once. Driven mad by these emotions, I ran wherever my legs would take me not caring whether I went. The next three days passed in a blur until I finally stopped on a rugged cliff overlooking the sea."

"What happened then?" Angela breathed, hushed by Elva's serene voice.

"I saw the oddest vision of a cripple elf lord on a crippled dragon," Elva replied. "He was dressed in robes of white and his dragon was a shining gold. The elf lord told me they were dead and had a message for Eragon. He told Eragon not to feel guilty for their deaths but to push on and persevere in his quest to defeat the Mad King. Then he told me..."

Elva's voice hitched and she shuddered visibly as if utterly afraid.

"What?" Angela asked, feeling unusually excited. "What did he say?"

A glance out of the corner of her eye told her that Greta too was enthralled by the strange tale.

"He said that I was Bonded, Angela," Elva whispered in a strained voice.

"Bonded?" Angela snapped, realisation crashing down upon her.

"Yes," Elva spat. "He said I now share a Soul Bond to a Dragon Rider – Eragon Shadeslayer."

A/N: Dun-dun-dun! *cue dramatic music* So how was that? For now it's just a one-shot, drabble, plot-bunny, thing as I don't really have anything else planned. But I might get struck by a brilliant flash of inspiration and write more chapters in the near future. Also, more updates all depend on your reviews. Is this idea any good? And how about the writing? Are the characters too OOC?

Just to clear some stuff up, this is strictly ElvaXEragon. Arya might die but she'll probably just go back to the elves after the war since she is really, really old and told him countless times to get a girl his own age. Plus, I thought a love-hate relationship would be kind of cute and interesting between Elva and Eragon. Not to mention that both their names start with an "E" if that means anything, and that a Soul Bond – if it would happen at all – would be most likely to happen here.

Any thoughts?

P.S. I don't remember what Elva looked like so I improvised after seeing a fan-drawn picture of her and Nasuada. Do correct me if I'm wrong though.