Disclaimer: Any character, places, and stories from the Inheritance Cycle never belong to me. Ever.
The Beginning
"Uncle,"
He had just found the ant colony he used to observe in his spare time before a lilting, almost familiar voice snapped Eragon from his reverie. He opened his eyes to find none other than Ismira Kristinasdaughter, his niece, stood before him. Her coppery brown locks disheveled as many riders have after riding their dragons with utmost speed, or some acrobatic tricks.
He looked up to meet her eyes that reminded him too much of her father. The same swirling brown eyes looked down at him.
"Ismira. What brings you here? Don't you have some apprentices to teach?" He asked. It's still new to him, addressing his little niece like that. It seems like time has passed away too soon.
Too soon. Too much time has passed since his departure from Alagaësia. And never once he had been able to return back. To his home. Surely, the time he spent living here were much longer than the time he spent back in Alagaësia, but that land is where he were born, where he fought, and where his heart left behind. And nothing, absolutely nothing can change that.
And unfortunately, the prophecy from a certain witch named Angela, about him never to return to Alagaësia had been true all these years. Each time he tried to get back, duty called. Some skirmish. Some fights. Even some minuscule war with the Ra'zacs who flew from the east and the people from the east who tried to break into Alagaësia and claiming its fertile land, always gets in his way back to home. Demanding his full attention. No excuses.
He never returned. Not witnessing as Nasuada stepped back from her throne as her health worsened. Not witnessing as generation after generation changed. Not even to witness as Carvahall's lord, Roran Stronghammer, being lied down beside his true love for eternity.
He would, oh how he wanted to. But, he can't.
"I do have some teachings to do Uncle, but Blödhgarm has something of highly importance-or so he says, to be reported to you. Since he cannot touch your meditating mind, he sent me for you," Ismira elaborate her intention.
"Ra'zacs?" The lead rider's brow furrowed.
"Well," she imitated her uncle's expression, "Blödhgarm didn't really say anything about whatever it is he wanted to tell you, but I think it's not them, for if it is, he should've rung the tower."
The tower. They had built it during the intense period of the Ra'zacs attack.
Eragon get up to his feet. Running his hand over his black trouser brushing the dirt off, he nodded. "Fine, I'll see him," He hesitated for a second, then added, "Thanks niece, for bringing the news."
The said niece's eyes blazed, "It's Ismira, Uncle." Eragon always knew how it bothered her, to be reminded of her 'youth'.
Her 'uncle' chuckled, "Well, you are the one who called me uncle in the first place," he shrugged, "It makes me feels old, you know."
The corner of Ismira's lips curled upward at this, "Well, it's true. You're more than a hundred years old Uncle!" She said mockingly.
He runs his hands through his still youthful face, "Really? Do I look like a cranky old man?"
She contemplated this for a while, "Um, no. But you still have more years as your age than Galbatorix ever reign!"
And with that, his ever polite niece runs off to the woods. Not long after that, a pearly white dragon as big as Saphira was during the war flew above the canopy of the forest, with a high pitched voice calling to him, "See you soon, Uncle! And Blodhgarm is in the scrying chamber!", which undeniably belonged to none other than the rider sat upon it.
Shaking his head at her antique, he started his little journey to the furred elf who since even before their departure he considered as friend.
The drizzle has just started to fall to the hard ground when Eragon reached his destination, the scrying chamber. It was one of the buildings in this place that was not made of sung trees. It was made of stone, marbles specifically, with reliefs which showed the history of the dragon riders and Alagaesia. Yes, Alagesia, the clan's original home. They put the reliefs here, in the scrying chamber, to remind them of their home. Their families. Places and people they could contact here, or saw, at least. The reliefs started at the left door wings, then went circling the room, and finished at the right door wings – showing the finding of this new place. Just before it finished, reliefs of the Great War against the black king, Galbatorix, etched. Showing the red and blue dragons fight against the giant black one, him against the tyrant, three children at the corner and an elf with raven hair throwing Dauthdaert to the black dragon's skull. And then, a green dragon, with a crowned rider sat upon his back before the reliefs showing the end of their story.
There is one hidden event that didn't show on these walls. The one that the lead rider remembers as clear as the water from the mountain's peaks, as the stars when the sky was clear. The one that always brought a single tear to his eye. And this day, is the exact a hundred years since that.
"Eragon," A voice so soft and familiar he never thought he would hear anymore stopped his heart's beating. He looked away from the reliefs to where the voice came from. And his breath catches. His lungs, heavy. And all of a sudden, his vision shrinks until he could only see his world. Her.
The swirling pool of each green shades Eragon ever knew about captivating him. He couldn't move. He couldn't look away. Her high cheekbones. Her flowing, black tresses. Her red lips which could make his heart turned upside down when it's curved in a smile, and when she laughed.. Well, he knows he would give her his life if that's the only way to hear her laugh. And everything else, about her, no matter how unimportant for her and everyone else, is important to him. She is his life, his world.
"Arya,"
It took him so much effort to say her name after all this time, this separation. Even after these years, his feeling has never changed. Deep down, he knew it wouldn't change, it couldn't. The separation would have took its toll on him if not for Saphira who always there for him. As the same circumstances happened to Saphira, he would be there for her.
The elven queen started the elven greetings, and he tried so hard to reply the kind gesture. His mind and heart were still at a racing pace.
She smiled.
And it's enough to immobilize him.
All his control of his mind and body, after all the meditation he made, were lost. He, The Kingkiller, is weak in front of her.
"It's been a long time, Eragon." She smiled again. "I believe you enjoy your peaceful time with the riders, but what am I going to tell you might end it."
Eragon's brow creased as he heard her, "What is wrong? Is it the Ra'zacs? Galbatorix's loyal pets? Surdan a-"
"It's not them, Eragon. We still have no idea about what it is as well, but something has happened," she cuts.
"So, what is it?"
"Something, as well as several young humans has just appeared in the middle of our forest. They were still unconscious until this time even though they had no injuries, and no spell could wake them up."
"But, how? Surely Du Weldenvarden always being warded by various spell, except.."
"Yes. And that worries me."
Eragon's mind raced, searching for a solution.
Little One, I think it's time for us to go home,
We? How about the other? We can't just leave them Saph,
Yes we can, Eragon. They are much more capable of maintaining this land without us. We've trained them for years! And besides, we have stayed here for far too long… Don't you want to see your friends again?
Of course I do! But, the prophecies..
They're just words Eragon! I can't believe it that you actually believe them!
I didn't Saph! But, all this time, those words just keep becoming true! I can't even visit Roran's burial, why should I go home now?
Because the Ra'zacs were attacking us that time! But now, there's no obstacle in front of us. The riders and dragons have settled here, slowly flourishing to their former glory. Our jobs here are done, Little One..
Eragon's throat choked. The thought of going back, of being home once again, racked his nerve. He misses his home. He misses his friends. So very much.
And now, a new possible threat has emerged. Threatening to take away his loved ones, his home.
He should go back.
He should.
But, he didn't know if he could.
"We will go to Alagaesia," his lips muttered.
We'll go home, his heart said.
Just saying those words makes him feels as if a burden has been lifted up from his heart.
Yes, Little One, we're going home.
A/N
Soo, hey guys! It's me trying to make a much more serious version of my other fanfic and.. I really want to know your responses about this guys, should I keep this one up or finish the other first? This version is just roaming my head, constantly. Please, help!
See ya :)
*7 dec 2016 - a slight error, fixed!
*24 jan 2017 - a huge mistake, fixed!
