A/N: IMPORTANT!! This is set 5 years after Eragon pretending that Eldest never happened. Galbatorix is dead.
Stranger
Eragon walked slowly down the streets of Carvahall. It had been five years since he had walked this road. Here, nothing had changed. As for him, he had changed a lot.
He had been so ignorant of everything, but Brom had fixed that. He no longer meandered along with a slouched back. He walked with a certain confidence that could only be achieved with experience, his head held high. He strode with a physique similar to that of a panther, swiftly, gracefully, silently, just waiting to leap into action. His no longer allowed his mind to wander, he was always aware of his surroundings.
He was garbed in a coarse brown cloak, a hood obscuring his features. He always had to cover his face. He would be too easily recognized. Especially here.
Other people on the road regarded him warily. They chose to keep their distance. Strangers were uncommon in these parts and were always treated with caution.
Not as much of a stranger as they think, Eragon thought with a wry smile. He looked down at his hands. Have I really changed that much?
I think you know the answer to that little one. Eragon ignored her and walked into Morn's tavern. If you wanted to hear the rumors there was no better place to go than a bar. A few ales would always loosen someone's tongue.
People looked at him warily as he sat down, a few even edged away. Eragon didn't let it bother him, he was used to it. Even regular humans could sense the power in him, though they wouldn't know what it was.
You also look pretty creepy wearing that cloak, Saphira remarked
That makes me feel better.
Eragon flicked a coin at the bartender, receiving a pitcher of ale in return. He took a sip and tuned into the conversations around him. Most of it was fairly useless. After a few minutes, Albriech and Baldor's conversation caught his attention. They had mentioned Galbatorix.
"Did you hear what the traders were saying when they came into town," Albriech said in a hushed voice, trying to make sure they weren't overheard. "They were saying that Galbatorix was killed by another rider.
"Yeah, I heard alright. But who's to say he's not as bad as the king." Baldor ran a hand through his hair.
"Nah. From what I've heard he is a helper of the people. They say he has the strength of a hundred men and the wisdom of the elves. His dragon is supposed to be magnificent, with sapphire scales that shine like the ocean and sparkle in the sunlight.
Eragon was surprised. He hadn't realized that tales of his endeavor had already spread that far. Now, it was time to find out whether or not this town was in favour of the Varden taking control. They had been years ago, but five years can change a persons opinions. In addition, he couldn't help but wonder if they realized it was him
"What name does this rider go by," he asked in a voice that was not his own.
"They say that he goes by the name Eragon Shadeslayer," Albriech replied warily.
"Strong name." Eragon took a sip of his ale. They knew his name, but did they realize the connection.
"Hmm," Albriech sighed, "We used to have a boy here by the same name. Eragon was a good kid."
"What happened?" he asked, curious to hear how they would describe his disappearance. "Did he pass on?"
"No." Albriech scratched his head. "Actually, we don't really know. He ran away five years ago, disappeared with the town storyteller. We don't know where he went; we don't even know for sure why he left. He ran away right after his uncle died, he didn't even wait for the funeral."
"His cousin was overcome with grief. He lost his family and his home. He is better now, but he still blames himself. He thinks that if he had been there he could have changed things."
Guilt overwhelmed Eragon and he looked at the floor. He had never meant to hurt Roran, but some things couldn't be helped.
"That must have been hard," he muttered, unable to look at Albriech as he spoke.
They nodded. "Who are you anyway?" Baldor questioned curiously.
"Just a traveler passing through." Eragon smirked, his white teeth glinting in the darkness of his hood. Baldor and Albriech chose not to inquire further. Secrecy was common in these times.
"Where are you from?"
"A place not different from here," he sighed. "A small town, with family, friends, a home. But that's all gone now." Eragon almost smacked himself over the head. Could he have been more obvious?
He muttered a quick goodbye and hurried away with his shoulders hunched and his head bowed.
Before he made it out the door, he collided with someone and stumbled back, his hood falling down. Pulling it back up, he muttered a quick sorry and helped the person to his feet.
Eragon looked at the person's face and cursed. Of all the people to run into, it just had to be Roran.
Roran frowned. "Do I know you?"
Eragon thought every curse he knew, berating himself for his foolishness. How could he have let his guard down? He hadn't disguised his voice. And worse yet, Roran had seen his face.
"Not that I know of," Eragon grunted, lowering his head and trying to walk around him.
No luck, Roran blocked his path. "I know you. I've seen your face before." He searched his brain for answers. Where had he seen him before? Eragon's face entered his mind. It was different but the same.
"Look, I don't know what you're talk-" He never got a chance to finish. In one swift movement Roran pulled down Eragon's hood, revealing his face.
A gasp ran through the bar and silence ensued. Everyone there still remembered him. "How could they forget? He had, after all, left under fairly disturbing circumstances.
Eragon pulled his hood back up but the damage was already done. He attempted to walk away, but Roran grabbed his arm in an iron grip.
"How could did you leave? What the hell were you thinking?" He yelled, wrenching the hood back down. "How could you just disappear?"
Eragon remained silent. What could he say?
"ANSWER ME!" Roran punched him in the jaw. He could have easily avoided it, but he let it hit him anyway. He deserved it after all. He let Garrow die, and left without a trace. "Five years Eragon. Five bloody years. I didn't even know if you were alive. I imagined the worst. I assumed that if you had been alive you would have found some way of contacting me. Guess I was wrong."
"How could you?" he glared so fiercely Eragon had to tear his eyes away. He was a coward. He couldn't even look him in the eye. "Brothers in all but blood. Your words Eragon, not mine. If we were so close, why would you leave without telling me why?"
Still, Eragon remained silent, his eyes glued to the ground.
"EXPLAIN! Tell me what was so important that you would leave my father unburied. All I got was a note saying to watch out. Watch out for what? No, you didn't tell me that either. You just disappeared with that bloody storyteller."
Eragon's eyes snapped up to meet Roran's gaze. He yanked his arm away. "You think I wanted to leave? Do you think I would have run if I had had another choice? I was stuck. There was nothing else I could have done. Do you think I left with a clear conscience knowing that Garrow was unburied? All these years the guilt has plagued me."
"Then enlighten me. Tell me what was so important you had to disappear without a trace?" Roran fumed, sarcasm lacing his words.
"If I hadn't left, none of you would have lived to see the new moon. Galbatorix would have had it torn apart to find Saphira and me."
"Why the hell would Galbatorix want you? And who is Saphira?"
Eragon ignored him. "Ironic isn't it," he mused, regaining his self control. "You hear all these rumors about Eragon Shadeslayer, yet none of you work it out. Not one of you believed that it could have been me. Not one of you thought that I could have achieved such feats."
Roran raised his eyebrows. "Prove it."
"Is it that hard to believe? Remember the months before I left. How every day I would disappear into the forest for hours on end. Weren't you ever curious about where I was, or what I was doing? I was raising Saphira. It wasn't easy keeping her a secret."
Roran stared at him stonily. "Prove it."
"Brisingr." A ball of flame appeared in Eragon's hand. There was a thud outside the bar. And a shrill scream pierced the air.
Eragon walked outside, placing a hand on Saphira's side. Everyone followed him out stopping dead in their steps when they saw her.
Everyone was silent. Roran nodded before walking forward to stand in front of Saphira. "Amazing," he whispered awestruck. "Can I touch it?"
"Why don't you ask her?" Eragon smirked.
"But she's just an animal."
Just an animal. What is wrong with you silly creatures?
"Who was that?"
That would be me. Saphira nudged his shoulder. It is an honor to meet Eragon's nest-mate.
"Nice to meet you, too," Roran laid a hand on her snout, regaining his composure. "Where did she come from?" he turned his attention to Eragon.
"Remember that blue stone I found? Saphira hatched from it. I never told you or Garrow because I was worried you would make me give her away. The creatures that killed Garrow. They were after the egg. They would have found out that she had hatched eventually. I couldn't stay. They would have burned this town to the ground to try and find me. The minute that retch told them I had the stone, my life here was forfeit."
Memories hit Roran instantly. Small things that had seemed insignificant at the time suddenly held new meaning. The frequent disappearances, the missing meat, the stone and even that noise in the middle of the night.
"I must leave soon. In fact, I probably shouldn't have come here in the first place. Nasuada said it was a bad idea. But seeming as everyone already knows it's me, I have some unfinished business to attend to."
He turned his head to the butchers shop and Sloan, who stood outside its door. Their eyes met, and overwhelming rage consumed him. "Risa." He watched with satisfaction as Sloan rose into the air screaming.
Throwing aside his cloak, he allowed Sloan to fall to the ground at his feet.
"Get up and face me like a man," Eragon hissed, disgust evident on his face.
Sloan didn't move. He could only cower before Eragon, too scared to move.
"I said stand." Eragon's whisper was more terrifying than anything Sloan could have imagined.
"Fine." He grabbed Sloan's throat and lifted him off the ground with one arm, his other reaching for Zar'roc.
"Why did you do it? Did you think you could get away with it?"
"Sorry?"
"Sorry. Is that all you have to say? Garrow is dead because of you."
Sloan whimpered, trying to pry Eragon's hand from his throat.
"Not so tough now are you." Eragon was seeing red. His grasp on Sloan's neck tightened. He could kill this man with a simple flick of his wrist.
STOP. You're going to kill him. Saphira's firm voice broke Eragon from his trance. Eragon dropped Sloan, horrified at what he had almost done.
"Are you going to kill me?" Sloan sobbed pathetically from the ground.
"No." Eragon shook his head. "I've seen too much bloodshed. They talk of the glory of war, but it is slaughter. I've ended many lives, but it was necessary. But you, you're not worth it. I don't want another life on my conscience."
"But…" Eragon swiftly lifted Sloan from the ground and slammed his fist into his nose. "Now that I will not lose a wink of sleep over." He smiled pleasantly and allowed the dead wait to fall from his grasp.
Turning back to Roran he grinned. "It was nice to see you cousin, but now I must take my leave. I'm sorry if I caused you any problems."
"No, its fine. It's nice to know you're alive. Come for a visit if you are ever passing by."
"Maybe."
A/N: Thank you for reading this ff. I wrote it a couple of years ago and had to do some major correcting before I posted it. please R&R 3
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