Brom looked around the village with watchful eyes. Children ran across the streets, laughing and screaming. Women sat on porches gossiping happily with others, stopping occasionally to scold a child. Most of the men were congregated near Morn's tavern, reveling in the sheer happiness of the day.
Today was a day of happiness, and sadness at the same time. More than one hundred years ago today, Dragon Riders rules Alageasia, keeping the peace and distributing calmness throughout the lands. Over one hundred years ago today, the Dragon Riders fell and Galbatorix became king.
This, to people who remembered the Riders, was not a day of fun and frolicking. This was a day of sorrow and bitterness. For on this day so many years ago Brom lost his own dragon, Saphira. At this thought, Brom fought back the tears that yearned to fall freely down in cheeks, wrinkled by age.
The King had turned the fall of the Riders into a festival of sorts. He made it look honorable. The people accepted this, and today, widely called The Rise of The King, celebrated it with dancing, drinking and games for the children.
Such ignorance! Have the people no idea as to the bloodshed, and horror that went down this day so many years ago, Thought Brom to himself as he wandered back to his own home.
Later that evening a feeling of the oddest sorts struck Brom. He watched the people he had come to know so well laugh and dance, so carefree. The very air screamed of happiness. Yet Brom felt like this was the last time he would ever see these people together like this. Like this was the last Rise of The King festival he would see. The people of Carvahall would gather together once more, but never would it be for something as frivolous as this. Time of hardship and sorrow would band them together, if it didn't tear them apart first.
As Brom watched the villagers laugh and smile, so free, it reminded him painfully of his life so many years ago, playing with his young dragon, reveling in the freeness of the land. No Usurpers ruling the lands, erasing the past.
He grunted harshly and shook his head, as if to clear it. Now was not the time to dwell on things long since forgotten. Raising his head to look at the darkening sky, where the first starts were just begging to show, Brom let a tear slide down his wrinkled cheek, and into his beard. The last tear he would ever shed on behalf of the king and his wretched Forsworn. He quickly wiped the moisture away, lest anyone see.
Forcing himself to join in on some of the festive, Brom soon retired back to his own home, for the feeling that this was the last time the people would come together like this had struck him so strongly, he could not concentrate anymore. It filled his mind with despair and a longing to run far, far away, as if it could save these people from the troubles he knew would be coming. He sighed gruffly and after cleaning himself up somewhat, retired to bed, the sinking feeling weighing heavy on his head.