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.

18th June 1989

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.