OK, here goes the first chapter. I hope you like it just as much as I do ...
Anyway, please review! Also, I'm writing in a kind of ... strange way.
A dash (-) = someone speaking with thoughts. (The reason for me not using italics instead is that I'm having kind of trouble with my computer for the moment. I'm working on it!)
Quotes (" ") = someone speaking aloud.
Well, I think that's all you need to know for the moment. So here it comes!
Chapter 1: A world without end
The rumbling, sighing sound of the waves, slowly making their way backwards and forwards, travelled easily up through the still air to the cliff on which Eragon was standing. In front of him was only the ocean, glittering in the last of the evening light. Behind and around him were high mountains, here and there deeply cut by valleys or brooks. Below him lay the city which had, since a few years back, been his home. The city which had been built on his command. The city which he had built here instead of in Alagaësia only because of Angela's prophecy. The herbalist had told him that he would leave alagaësia and never come back, and so he had.
Eragon shook his head and tried to put Angela's prophecy out of his mind, because all it did was make him distressed and worried. Instead, he raised his eyes to watch the sun sink and vanish where the sky and the earth met. It was still a shock to him, even after fifty years on this island, to know that the world was not flat after all, but round - like a globe. If only Arya could see what he was seeing! If only she could know what he knew! But no, he thought to himself. Do not think of Arya!
Although it had gone fifty years now since Eragon had left Alagaësia, the thoughts of Angela's prophecy and of Arya still kept returning to him, troubling him and making him confused and distressed. They were two ways between which he'd had to choose, two possibilities that had seemed just as tempting. And although he'd chosen one of them, he kept wondering what would have happened if he'd chosen the other.
Before, when the task of surviving here in a desolate land, of building up a new city and raising the dragons had been so urgent, he hadn't had much time to think about anything else. But now, when the city was finished and the order was growing well, he'd got more and more time for himself, to think - and wonder.
Was Nasuada doing well as queen of the Empire? Who would be succeeding her? How were Arya and Orik doing? What had happened to Roran and the other villagers of Carvahall? He could go on for ever, and there would just appear even more questions to which he had no answer.
- Oh, please, Eragon! Stop thinking of that, or I'll lose all the joy flying gives me.
Grateful for the interruption, Eragon turned his mind towards Saphira. The blue dragon was gliding out over the sea, borne by a warm current of air. As their minds melted together again, her happiness to be out there over that vast, endless ocean overrode Eragon's gloomy thoughts.
- Well, I see what you mean, he said, laughing briefly at her accusing tone. Anyway, couldn't we fly together or something? As you see, I'm in desperate need of anything that can distract me from those thoughts!
- Of course we could, said Saphira. I'll be back in a while.
Through the connection that always existed between their minds, Eragon could feel her enthusiasm. They hadn't had many opportunities to fly together these last weeks. Or at least, none of them had suggested it.
A little later, Eragon was sitting on Saphira's back, staring down at the water they passed over, listening to the distant crashing of the waves coming from the beach. Closing his eyes, he let his mind flow into Saphira's body, so that he saw everything with her vision. As always, the details got slightly distorted, but Eragon was used to it by this time and hardly gave it a thought. Instead, he let the wonderful view of the sea and the island behind them, the sensation of the cool air rushing past them and the sounds of wind, dragon wings beating and waves wash away all his gloomy and miserable thoughts.
As one being only, Eragon and Saphira turned and soared up towards the swiftly darkening sky, uttering a loud roar of triumph and mere joy. Then, once they were level with the highest mountains of the island, they stopped, hovering in the air to watch a flock of birds rising up from one of the trees in the distance.
The trees, plants and animals living on this island differed from the ones back in Alagaësia in many ways, even though some of them were the same. But yet, there was something here that reminded Eragon so strongly of Du Weldenvarden, and of the Spine at the same time. The elves who had followed him were really happy about this, of course, but Eragon was once again reminded of Arya. And of the life he had been living before he found Saphira's egg.
The island was quite large and shaped like a triangle, with the point facing east and the base, where most of the forest was, turned in the direction from which they had come. Although they had struggled hard, neither Eragon, nor any of the other elves had managed to find a good name for it. For some reason, none of the names they tried felt quite right. So for the moment, they simply called the island Vroengard, because that was where the Riders had been living before Galbatorix became king of the Empire.
Eragon and Saphira wheeled round in the air, looking in every direction and seeing nothing but sea. This was something they'd done before, but the existence of so much water and so little land always amazed them just as much. This is really a world without end, Eragon thought. A world that we have to explore. Maybe there were other people somewhere out there? Maybe other dragons? And even Riders?
- If there are, maybe they'll join us and the order will grow faster, Saphira commented.
- Yes, said Eragon. But thee order is growing fast enough. You're just impatient. I've told you so before.
- Well, maybe I am, Saphira admitted. But if there really are other dragons somewhere out there, I want to talk to them. I want to learn more, Eragon, and so do you. Don't deny it!
- I'm not, he said. Why are we having this discussion anyway, when we both know what the other is going to say?
- Because I like discussing with someone, came the answer. And if you really do know everything I'm going to say, you wouldn't have asked that.
Eragon laughed and then dropped the matter. He knew Saphira had won.
This was a kind of game that Eragon and Saphira had developed over the years. One of them would mention something, after which the other tried to deny it or start a discussion about it, like Saphira had done. Eragon considered it to be quite good practice. Because he'd been present at the conferences of several kings and other rulers, and he knew that they spent a lot of their time arguing with each other. If he really was going to rule this country, he'd better act like any ruler in Alagaësia.
Saphira on the other hand, did it only because, like she'd said, she enjoyed discussions. But Eragon supposed this joy was mostly caused by the fact that she won most of the discussions between them. It seemed almost natural for her, where as he had to struggle to find every argument.
It was near midnight when Eragon and Saphira finally returned to the island, landing just outside their house. But still, even though it was so late, the air felt pleasantly mild, and Eragon would have wanted to stay up much longer than this. But, as he had found out by now, he could never know what was going to happen tomorrow. He must sleep when he could. So, with a small sigh, he closed the door and went to bed.
His waking dreams that night were full of impressions of Arya and her dragon, Fírnen. They were so close, and yet so far away! And, like so many times before, Eragon awoke with a painful longing in his heart.