I do not own anything related to the Inheritance Trilogy by Christopher Paolini. I am just using his characters, plot, setting and all that for my amusement :) This is a short chapter, I know. When things get moving hopefully they will be longer. I hope you enjoy!

-Khori

Chapter One: Stretched Thin

Eragon, said Saphira, breaking into the conversation he was currently having with Roran in his tent, someone is here to see you.

Eragon frowned tiredly, swiveling his head in the direction of the tent flap. He relaxed when he saw that it was only Orik, looking just as rumpled as when Eragon last saw him, which seemed a lot longer ago than it really was. You could have told me who it was, he said to Saphira, who rumbled with subdued laughter.

Earlier you proved that you don't need to see someone to know who they are. But if you insist, I will tell you next time.

"Orik," said Eragon, rising from where he sat with Roran on the edge of the bed. Orik wavered where he stood, a flask of mead clutched loosely in his hand. Eragon steadied his friend by placing one hand easily on the dwarf's short shoulder. "Can I help you with anything?"

"One favor at a time," Roran spoke up uneasily. "You just promised to help me."

Saphira stuck her head in the tent, her sinewy neck snaking around Eragon and Orik as she peered at Roran. We have many duties that we are bound to. But you are Eragon's family, and you are bound by blood. Do not be concerned, we will rescue Katrina.

"As soon as Eragon's strings are done being pulled by his different puppet masters," muttered Roran, but he shook his head in apology and turned away before Saphira could begin to glower. Eragon ignored his cousin, his attention on Orik.

"Hrothgar is ready for the journey," Orik choked. "When the sun rises, you and Saphira will come with us to Farthen Dûr. We have many other bodies to carry besides his own." He hiccuped mournfully, and Eragon nodded, kneeling to be face to face with Orik.

"I swore to never leave any dwarf wrongly buried," said Eragon. "And I will keep that oath."

Orik raised his free hand and clasped it around the forearm that Eragon had rested on his shoulder, looking gratefully into his eyes. "Aye. Thank you, Eragon. I know you will avenge Hrothgar, and do everything right by him."

Eragon smiled and shook Orik's shoulder gently. "Yes, my friend. Now go and sleep. Your head will hurt in the morning."

Orik scoffed on his way out of the tent, passing by Saphira with a sloppy wave. "Hurt? I can hurt no more than I already do."

Silence descended upon them and Roran stood. "I know we were in the middle of planning, but I see that you will be waylaid, if you must travel all the way to– Where is Farthen Dûr, anyway?" he frowned.

"It is in the Beors," answered Eragon. Roran frowned and looked away.

"I will stay with the rest of Carvahall tonight. I will go with you and Saphira to bury Hrothgar, and from there we will head directly to Dras-Leona." He nodded to Eragon and Saphira as he too left. Sighing, Eragon returned to his bed and sat down heavily, his head in his hands. He heard the rustling of the tent flap and knew that Saphira was pushing her way farther inside.

You are stretched thin, little one, she murmured sympathetically.

"We," Eragon corrected. "You are with me in all I do, Saphira." He raised his head and smiled at her. She ducked her chin, sapphire eyes glittering in the dim light of the tent. "We must bury the dwarves, rescue Katrina, and then get leave from Nasuada to return to our training with Oromis and Glaedr. We are stretched thin indeed."

It is all toward a greater end, said Saphira. And as the days go by, we will finish some things and be free for others.

"If something else doesn't appear, demanding our attention."

Saphira growled in assent of his bitter remark. It is hard because there is only us. We are the only dragon and Rider against Galbatorix that can do anything, and so everything that needs to be done by a Rider and his dragon falls on us. We need a reprieve.

"We need companions," Eragon agreed. "We have comrads and friends all around us, but you are right, Saphira. I only hope that the last egg does not hatch and give Galbatorix yet another advantage over us."

Saphira said nothing, and Eragon felt a slight guilt settle over his other numerous and roiling emotions. She wanted another dragon with her desperately, and he should not make it harder for her. He opened his mouth to say something, but she interrupted him before he could.

You should sleep as well, Eragon. There is much to do, and you promised to right the wrong that Elva has suffered if we won the battle.

"And we did," said Eragon, but there was no sense of triumph in his words. The victory had come with prices that Eragon had never thought would need to be paid. Saphira retracted her head and Eragon was alone in the tent. Twisting his body, he laid down on his bed and forced his eyes closed, tempted to rest his hands on them to be sure that his eyelids did not fly open and keep him up. He was weary, but at the same time energized.

The light from the fires outside cast Saphira's shadow on his tent wall. He could see her sides moving as she breathed, hear the air whistling lowly in and out of the great bellows of her lungs. With that to help lull him and her presence so near that he could feel her warmth through the canvas walls of the tent, Eragon was able to drift off to a restorative sleep.