I have never known what to say to introduce a piece of writing, but here goes:
This is my first ever Fanfic I have written, and so I am very excited to share it with everyone! It is based off of the Inheritance Cycle, taking place after the last book. There are several things that are different about the world in this tale, but for the most part I try to stick with the foundation Paolini has given us. I have not yet decided on the final name for this, so be aware it might change soon. I will try to update at least once every week, hopefully more.
On another note, please excuse any typos, for I am typing this out on my phone. Please comment on what you think of the story so far, how to improve it, any mistakes, suggestions, or any questions you have!
I hope you enjoy it!
Disclaimer: Credit goes to Christopher Paolini, creator of the Inheritance Cycle. I do not claim ownership of the world he has created. The story I tell here about Æthenglyth is my own invention, and it is not purported or believed to be part of Christopher Paolini's story canon. This story is for entertainment only and is not part of the official story line.
Seven years is less than a decade. Only 142.857 out of a millennium. Short enough to pass on the blink of an eye. It is indescribably strange to think that only seven years ago, I was naught but a poor farmer girl, not even fully elfin, looked down upon by others my age. Now, as a dragon rider, I am almost nobility, always addressed as Shur'tugal, sometimes Æthenglyth-Elda, and regarded by many as the New Hope. Seven years is all that it has taken to change that..Seven years and that one fateful day…
"When shall we be going to town, mother? All the other farmers have already brought their crops in for the Autumn Harvest Market.." My younger self wines and tugs on the tunic of my mother, who smiles down at me, perhaps proud that I am accounting for our business.
"Ætheni.. You know that this year is different. This year the Royal Guard are coming to Sílthrim with the selected egg. We must arrive later in the evening as to not be caught in the flow of travelers all going the same place we are." I am satisfied with this answer, and go back to studying my calligraphy teachings. Little did I know that later that day, this would both save my life, and put it in jeopardy for eternity.
The next few hours are a bore, as all that is occurring is the packing of our crops and belongings, and the loading of then onto the horses that would bring us to the city. So when the time came for us to start our journey, I was more than eager to mount my horse. Our ride started out uneventful, the intelligent horses sensing where we were traveling, and avoiding any obstacles without needing guidance. As we continued our journey, I start sensing my parents becoming more and more agitated. I note this, but say nothing, knowing that they prefer to be left alone in such situations. I also begin theorizing reasons for their discomfort. Perhaps it is the lack of other travelers? The sun, marking the hours we are rapidly losing? I squint into the mentioned celestial body, who's first rays are beginning to reach the clump of trees in the distance which I know to be the outer dwellings of Sílthrim. I frown, looking closer at the trees, where something has just caught my attention. I realize what it means, and almost fall off my mount. The reason for my parents' worrying has suddenly become all too apparent.
Surrounding the city, with their swirling black bodies and the massive terror that accompanies them, are the Ra-zac. They seem to be blocking off the city, filtering the people through the gates, and to their awaiting death. I start thinking quickly, the nine year old mind that my father had always praised going into overtime. They had obviously already scented us, so their was no way we could turn around. Their dark steeds were faster even than our elfin mounts, so there was no hope for us running away-
My thoughts are abruptly interrupted by a band of elves breaking out of the city. Not just any band of elves, but the Royal elves, marked by their steeds, which are covered by light armor embellished with the dwarven crests of the clans they had been gifts from. And on the back of the middle horse sits the Dragon-Bearer. This millennium it is a male elf by the name of Zäkiriam. He sits, proud and tall, on the back of the horse, the precious teal dragon egg cradled in his lap. The elves around him create a turtle formation and force their way out of the Ra-zak's ranks. I frown, not noticing my horse suddenly changing direction, then am jolted out of my analysis by the bolt of purple light that roars past me, strait towards the spot where I used to stand and where my father now stood.
Time stands still as I turn my head to watch the streak of magic slam into my father, knocking him off his horse and into the ground, where he is promptly trampled. I don't stop to think about who had cast it, or why. I rush towards my father, or what is left of him. I hear screaming in the distance, and a horse's galloping footsteps coming closer and closer, but it all seems muted. I slide of my horse, onto the ground, dropping to my knees, reaching for my father, but I do not even get that far. A strong hand grabs onto the back of my tunic, pulling my up off the ground and onto a horse. I pry at their hands, trying in vain to pull them off, screaming in a very undignified manner for them to let me go. Nevertheless, the mysterious rider's grip is relentless. Once I give up my tormenting, I realize we are now a long way away from the city, which is now a battlefield. The rider and I have reached the edges of the woods now, and now they pull up abruptly, then turn to talk to me. By this point I am numb, all the fight in me drained out, so I listen. The rider, who I realize is male, has a low, rough voice, unusual for an elf. I think for a moment he is going to lecture me about the dangers of going after my father's body, but he doesn't. He just sits their for a moment, looking at me. It was almost as if his eyes are seeing right through mine, into my soul, testing me to see if I am worthy of his trust. I assume I must be, for after a moment he speaks.
" You are nothing but a child, so I pity you. The burden I have been forced to bestow upon you is not one that rests lightly on the soul. But I see a fire in you. Perhaps it was ignited by your father's downfall. You must keep this fire burning. You must feed it kindling, blow on it, and never let it die out. If it does, then your father's dearth will have been for nothing. But it will not. I am convinced of this. You are strong, and you will thrive. Take this now, and let my horse lead to through the woods. He will lead you to the Varden. Trust them, and no one else, for they are all the family you have left."
With that note, he slid swiftly off of the horse, slipping a bundle into my lap. "Gánga fram, Hlaupa!" He speaks firmly to the horse. And as I ride off into the Forest, the only thing I see behind me is the explosion, an inferno mushroom cloud that spreads out overt the city, destroying my last hopes of ever leading a normal life again, and leaving nothing but me, the horse, the egg, and the memories of a family I once had.
I apologise for a short chapter mostly taken up by a flashback. I am still getting the logistics of the story figured out, so please bear with me! It will be worth it! I will try to update very soon by I have a lot if schoolwork to do as well at the moment so please be patient!