A/N: This is my first ever Eragon Fanfic, usually I would accept flames arms wide open but at the moment my confidence is really low and I can't believe I'm actually posting this.
It's a Fanfic I made up in my mind while reading The Diary of Eva Depuebla, I know most people haven't heard of it but it's about history, about Catherine of Aragon and Henry VIII. This idea was nagging me in the back of my mind so I just wrote it down.
I don't know the date in which Eragon was set so I just made it in the late 1900's and on some random day, if anyone does know the actual date somehow then tell me :D.
Disclaimer: CP owns it.
This is just an
introduction chapter, very, very simple.
xxx
17th
June 1989 Who would be so foolish to lose something so
precious? I speak of course of the diary in which I now write in.
Well it is mine now; I have torn out the pages that the previous
owner has written in. I have found this discarded nearby the Menoa
Tree and I adopted it.
I now sit upon my bed, my legs
crossed; I am not used to sitting this way though it somehow amuses
me. It is dusk and my eyes are weary. Mother has told me to 'take
it easy' though I do not know why she would say such a thing.
On a different note; I think I
shall show Eragon the wonders of the Menoa Tree; he is currently
training with Oromis though I cannot say more on the subject. Whilst
on the topic of Eragon, I fear that his eyes are set upon me. I have
no wish to break his heart though I know that it shall be sooner or
later. Our friendship cannot survive if he does not get the message.
I do not want it to come down to
me telling him of Fäolin, no, it shan't
come to that, Eragon is intelligent.
This subject is upsetting and is
making me tire. I shall rest now, I will take Eragon to the Menoa
Tree, he tires me also. 18 He just does not get the message. Who do I speak of?
Eragon of course! I am leaning against the door leading inside my
room. I am fuming although I keep in my rage. I know that this is
unhealthy but I have no wish to shout at Eragon.
It is nice to be
called beautiful, after the flower which Fäolin had sung me but the
way he stares at
me in what seems to be admiration and affection together is too much. He does not take the hint of the story of Linnëa that I told him.
Maybe he does though he still pursues me, I cannot write anymore at the moment, I am needed.xxx
I know that it's short but it's only an introduction. I think that this story will go up to the end of my made up fourth book.
I can't take flames at the moment because, as I've said, My confidence is super low right now.
