It all began when the elves came. Ismira knew what it meant- she had witnessed it plenty of times before- but she never expected to ever take part in it.
It was a silly notion, of course, for every year, the elves came from New Vroengard with dragon eggs to see if any of the children of Alagaësia would be matched and become Riders. And every year, she watched as the children she had known all her life went and touched the eggs, some leaving with hatched dragons, and others with hanging heads and sagging shoulders. So, when she turned fourteen and reached the proper age, she felt a sense of excitement and trepidation all at once, for the idea of becoming a Dragon Rider was tantalising, while the equal idea of not becoming one made her feel nervous.
In the days before the elves were set to arrive, Ismira got little sleep; she began to worry that she wouldn't be chosen by a dragon. She also despaired at the thought of leaving her family behind in Carvahall to travel all the way to New Vroengard, which was weeks away by journey. It was a daunting prospect, and it left her worried and distressed.
"Ismira, lovely, calm yourself," her mother whispered to her one evening as they sat by the fire while she had her hair brushed and braided for the ceremony the next day.
"What if I don't get chosen by a dragon?"
"Then there will be plenty of dragons who will never know what having such a wonderful young woman for a Rider is like," her mother replied. "There's no need to worry, darling; even if you are not chosen, that doesn't mean there's anything wrong with you."
She sighed softly. "Are you sure?"
"I'm positive."
With another sigh, she simply nodded and hoped that her mother was right.
The next morning, the entire population of Carvahall, as well as Therinsford, all gathered in the square in Carvahall to witness the official ceremony that had been named Choosing Day. Ismira, dressed in her finest dress of elven velvet, with her long, auburn hair intricately braided, walked forward with all of the other eligible children to begin the ceremony.
She couldn't help but watch the elves, as she did every year, as she walked forward in the square. No matter how many times she saw them, she still marveled at their inhuman beauty; even when they weren't in motion, there was a grace and fluidity about them that was mesmerising and heartbreaking, all at once. There was one particular elven boy who always accompanied the others that always caught Ismira's eye. He had long, midnight-black hair that went to his shoulders and framed his fiercely angular face. His eyes were slanted and shaped like perfectly rounded almonds, and were the color of the midnight sky; a deep, mysterious, tantalising shade of blue that she could get lost in if he would let her. This year, he adorned himself with a deep blue tunic that still paled in comparison to his eyes, with black leggings and black leather boots with intricate silver designs upon them
It happened to be because she was staring at said elf that Ismira tripped over the hem of her skirt and nearly plowed into the boy in front of her. Catching herself and regaining her balance, her face was flaming with embarrassment. She prayed to every god she could name that the elf did not see her stupidity, and decided to keep her eyes ahead of her from then on.
As they reached the center of the square, Ismira beheld a familiar sight; a long, wooden table with little dips in them lined with velvet. Within the dips rested a plethora of beautifully colored dragon eggs. They came in all manner of sizes, and they had the most beautiful colors, that one found it hard to avert their eyes. Ismira was awed by their beauty, as she always had been. They were like perfectly smoothed and polished gemstones, glinting softly in the sunlight with their dazzling colors.
A moment later, the ceremony began. The elves went into their annual explanation of the tradition, and the summary of what was going to happen to the lucky few that were partnered with a dragon. Ismira listened with rapt attention, despite the fact that she'd heard it all before, because she wanted to make it known that were she picked, she would be an attentive student.
"Gathered here before you are the children of your villages. And displayed before them are the key to some of their futures," the elf man who was speaking said in his soft voice. "On this day, their fate shall be decided. Each child will approach the eggs displayed here, and go up to each of them. What happens after is the forming of the bond. If the dragon within the egg that the child touches feels that they have met their partner, then the bond is formed. Today, some of you will leave as Dragon Riders; some of you, however, will not. If you are not chosen by a dragon, however, then do not be discouraged; it does not mean that anything is wrong with you. It simply means that the dragons here did not feel a connection to you. This is perfectly normal; sometimes, it takes years, or even decades, for a dragon to choose an elf or human to bond with. This is a natural occurrence.
"However, if you are chosen today, then what proceeds afterward will change your lives irrevocably. Once you are chosen by and bonded with a dragon, everything will change. We will talk more about that later. For now, however, we must begin."
Ismira held her breath as the ceremony officially began. Everyone began walking up to the table, one at a time, and examining the eggs displayed before them. She watched as people she knew walked back to their families with dejected looks upon their faces, and her heart broke for them. It also caused her to be more nervous, which was definitely not helping her. Her stomach was already fluttering and rolling; and as she went up to the table (and as the last person, as well), her palms were moist and her heartbeat was like that of a bird's. She also felt rather nauseous, and she fought the distinct urge to vomit as she approached the table.
However, once she reached the table, everything fell away, for her eyes fell upon a large orange egg. She walked over to it, completely fixated on it. She saw nothing else as she got closer, and she felt a distinct pull, as if she were attached to an invisible hook, and the egg was pulling the string. And as she stood in front of it, she was overcome with an overwhelming sense of awe. The egg stood just over a foot tall, and was a dazzling shade of orange, like a blazing sunset. It had very thin white marble swirls on its surface, and it shone in the morning light.
Ismira slowly reached for it, extending her arm so that her palm lay flat against the smooth surface of the gem-colored shell. She gasped once her hand made contact, for there was a slight pulsing beneath the surface of the shell. The pulsing got faster the longer she held her hand against it, and she simply stared at it, transfixed. She watched as the egg started moving beneath her hand, and small, hair-thin cracks began appearing across its surface. Still, she held her hand against it as the egg rocked violently back and forth, until it burst open, and a small screeching sound came from the newly opened mouth of a small orange dragon that clawed its way out.
Ismira gasped as she beheld her dragon, in all of its glory. It was beautiful, with gleaming orange scales the color of a blazing sunset. Its small body was slightly slimy, coated in its fluids from the egg it was trapped in, but the moisture on its scales just made it gleam even brighter in the sunlight.
It crawled onto her hand, and stared up at her with its big, round orange eyes. It blinked a few times, and flicked its tongue out, tasting the air. She smiled at it, and tears began to fall as she gently stroked its head with her fingers. It cooed at her softly, and touched its head to her palm. Unprepared for what followed, Ismira panicked slightly at what happened next.
As soon as the dragon's nose touched the palm of her hand, a white-hot burning sensation spread through it; she felt as if she had been stabbed in the hand with a burning fire poker. She gasped and pulled her hand away, her tears streaming a little more for the pain. But when she opened her eyes and examined her palm, she noticed the silvery mark of the Rider: the gedwëy ignasia. She looked in wonder at her dragon, who seemed to be smiling at her.
When she turned around, there was a great roar from the gathered crowd; even those who went before her and were not chosen whooped and hollered in celebration at the sight of her bond with her dragon. The elves smiled graciously at her, including the one with the midnight eyes, which made her blaze with pride. She smiled at her dragon, and displayed her palm for all to see, earning more cheers. Her mother and father ran up to her and embraced her, laughing.
"I promised everything would be okay, didn't I?" Her mother whispered.
"You did," she said with a laugh and a nod.
After everyone finished embracing her, she looked into the crowd and beamed. But then, she only had eyes for her dragon. It was beautiful; with such bright scales, it shone fiercely in the sunlight. She gently stroked its head again, and held it close to her. It nuzzled against her, making a humming noise in its little chest.
The elderly elf who had done the speaking for the ceremony approached her and bowed, greeting her with the odd gesture that the elves used in greeting. Having met with elves before, Ismira executed the gesture perfectly, twisting her free hand over her sternum and touching her finger to her lips. They exchanged the proper greeting, and he bowed to her once more.
"I am very honored to be in the presence of a new Rider," he said in his musical voice.
"The honor is all mine," she replied. "This is quite an extraordinary experience."
He nodded. "That it is. It seems that you are the only new Rider to come from the area this year, as well. That is quite interesting. But tell me; are you familiar with the procedure for new Riders?"
"Slightly' I am not well acquainted with the process. I know that we'll be going to New Vroengard eventually."
She noticed that she had already started using 'we' instead of 'I'. She smiled at her dragon, which sniffed her.
He nodded. "You will be. We will take a week or so to rest from our travels, and to prepare you to leave, and then we will begin our journey to New Vroengard. Once there, your training as a Rider will officially begin. You will not be able to do much right away, as you need time for your dragon to grow to an appropriate size, but once it is mature enough, we will begin your more intensive training."
She nodded, and bowed. The elf bowed to her before letting her go off with her family. She walked over to her mother and father, who were beaming.
"Can you believe it, Roran?" Her mother asked her father. "Our Ismira, a Dragon Rider."
He shook his head, and scratched his beard. "I'll have to let Eragon know. I'm sure he'll be interested to find out what's happened over here."
Ismira nodded. "Uncle Eragon will be so pleased to find out that I'm a Rider."
He smiled at her, and ruffled her hair before kissing the top of her head. "I always knew we came from good blood. Look how we all turned out; Eragon became a Rider and basically saved the world; I saved Carvahall-" (He threw a pointed look at her mother, who laughed), "and now my daughter is a Rider. We've had all the luck, it seems."
She laughed. "Apparently so; but it will do you no good to be arrogant about it. That's how fools lose their luck, you know."
He gave a light hearted chuckle, and her mother laughed. She smiled.
"So, what are you naming it?"
She looked down at her dragon, which was curled up in her arms, sleeping. She smiled at it. "I'm not sure; I don't even know if it's a boy or a girl. But these things take time; I just can't give it a random name. It has to mean something and be special. I'll have to get a feel for its personality."
She smiled at it, and held it tighter against her chest.
"Don't worry," she whispered to her dragon. "I'll give you a good name, I promise." And if she didn't know better, she would say that it smiled at her in its sleep.
The rest of the day, and well into the evening, was spent celebrating. There was music and dancing, and a feast, followed by the annual stories from her father, other villagers, and even a few of the elves, who witnessed the transformation of Alagaesia firsthand. That was always her favorite part of the Choosing Day; the stories that always followed the feast. After all of the dancing and food, everyone was ready to settle in, and so there was always a large crowd gathered in the square around a roaring fire, all of them eager to hear the stories.
Ismira listened to every detail with stars in her eyes, her little dragon nestled against her. It seemed to be listening as well; it looked at the storytellers intently, just like Ismira. Together, the listened as the elves and villagers wove tales of the Dragon Riders in the far east, and how they had been working day in and day out in New Vroengard to re-establish the order of the Riders and restore things to the way they were.
Her favorite stories were the ones about her Uncle Eragon and his mighty dragon Saphira, and how they became the heroes of Alagaësia while being the only dragon and Rider in decades. She felt her excitement at the thought of going to New Vroengard building as they spoke more and more about the magnificent metropolis that her Uncle had built for the new Riders. From the lush, detailed descriptions that the elves gave about the city, Ismira gathered that it was a match even for the great elven capital of Ellesmera. She had been there before, and the idea that any place could be even more magnificent than the elven city; it was the most wondrous place she had ever seen in her life.
The celebration and storytelling went long into the night, long after the midnight hour. Eventually, however, she began to feel sluggish and tired from all of the food, as well as the day's excitement, and she and her parents headed home for the evening.
"Vaenir told us that he will speak with you more in the morning," her father said as he opened the front door.
"Is that the elf that spoke with me earlier?"
He nodded. "That's the one. So make sure you get some sleep; I want you to be alert for this."
She nodded. "I just need to feed this little guy first."
He shook his head, smiling, as he began to ascend the stairs. "That thing already eats as much as I do, and it's barely even a day old."
She chuckled to herself as she went to the kitchen and looked for some dried meat. She found some cured and cut strips, and gathered a few in a small sack to take with her to her bedroom. Once in there, she changed into her nightdress, and began to make a bed for her dragon. Once she had it made, however, she decided that she would rather keep it beside her, so when she climbed into bed, she set its little curled body next to hers on her pillow.
And she was content.
The next morning, she arose early from pure excitement. She looked over at her dragon, only to find that it was no longer on her pillow, but on the floor, inspecting her things. She watched as it sniffed around, its little tail swishing back and forth as it made its way across the room.
She went over and scooped it up, cradling it to her and stroking its head.
"Good morning, little one," she chirped. "It seems that you're a curious little fellow, aren't you?" She laughed as it licked her hand, its rough tongue tickling her. "What a sweet thing, as well." She smiled at it. "I wonder, though; are you a boy, or a girl? It would really help me to find a proper name for you. And then it would feel a little more official; don't you think so?"
It simply sniffed her, then proceeded to lick her hand again, causing her to laugh. With a smile, she set it down on her bed, and went to go get dressed. She decided on one of her better tunics; it was a deep green velvet, with swirling patterns in gold thread. She put on a pair of sturdy black leggings, and her favorite worn leather boots, which were a charcoal black and slightly worn from use and age. She strapped her belt on, along with her dagger, and plaited her hair into a long braid to keep it out of her face. On her way out the door, she scooped her dragon up and took it with her, then made her way to the kitchen.
She grabbed a small wedge of cheese and some bread from the morning before, downing it with a bit of water. She went through the rest of the house to see if her mother and father were awake, and found her father in the barn, already starting the day's work in the fields.
"Good morning, father," she called as she approached him, her dragon riding contentedly on her shoulder.
"Good morning, darling," he replied.
She walked over to where he stood feeding the pigs. She petted a few of their heads, and fed some of the piglets with what was left of her bread. They squeaked and squealed happily, and she smiled. She turned to her father, smiling.
"I think I'd better head off to the square," she told him. "I don't want to be late to meet Vaenir. Did he say when he wanted to meet?"
He shook his head as he wiped the sweat off his brow. The summer heart was just starting to come in, making the sun stay high in the sky from the early morning through the whole day, and shortening the nights.
"He didn't say, but I do suggest heading over into town. Just in case; you don't want to be late your first day on the job."
She smiled and pecked him on the cheek before making her way down the road into town. Her dragon turned its head this way and that, inspecting everything. She liked its curiosity; it reminded her of herself.
Once she got into town, she made her way to the inn, where the elves would be staying for their duration in Carvahall. She entered the building, the warm smells of woodsmoke and ale filling her nose as she opened the door. She went to the bar and waved down Baldor, who had taken up the post of running Carvahall's inn and tavern.
"Good morning, Baldor," she said as she sat at the bar.
"Morning, Little Stronghammer," he said. He glanced at the dragon on her shoulder, and broke into a smile. "Well, well, well; it looks as if I'm one of the first of the commonfolk to get a personal glimpse of the new Rider and her dragon." He grinned. "Who would've thought? Roran's own daughter, a Dragon Rider. But then again, your family seems to have a knack for having interesting things happen to them."
She laughed. "That is true. And I would love to chat, but I'm here on business. Do you know where I can find Vaenir? I was asked to meet with him this morning."
"No need to look for me; I am right here," the elf said from behind her.
Ismira stood and turned to face him. He was wearing long, light gray robes, his silver-streaked black hair framing his long, angular face.
She bowed and began the proper greeting. Once that process was finished, she smiled graciously at him. "Good morning."
He inclined his head. "Good morning indeed. Come, child; let us go forth and talk."
She nodded and followed him out the door with a wave to Baldor. They made their way down the road in silence, seeming to go in the direction of her house, but instead going to the fields that were near it. Vaenir looked around him, taking in the scenery, while a light breeze lifted his hair slightly.
Her dragon sniffed the air, and leaned towards the breeze, humming softly. She smiled and stroked its head, enjoying the warm breeze herself.
"I must first extend my congratulations to you," Vaenir said after a moment, breaking the silence. "To become a Dragon Rider is the greatest of honors, and only the few who are capable are ever chosen."
"It's an honor to even consider the thought that I've been chosen," she said. "All of my life, I've heard these incredible stories about the Riders and what they've done, and even the mere thought of being a part of that was exciting in itself. I just never thought that particular dream would come true for me."
He turned to face her, a kind smile on his face. "Well, child, this dream has come true because you are worthy. Your dragon chose you because it knows that you are strong enough to do what is necessary. Because your dragon sensed something within you that spoke to it."
She looked at her dragon and smiled. "Well, you spoke to me, too. See? This was meant to be."
It blinked at her before nuzzling her gedwëy ignasia, causing her to shiver.
"Now, there are a few things that you must know about your dragon, the first being that when it matures a little more, it will be able to mentally communicate with you. Do not be alarmed when the time comes for your dragon to make its presence known within your mind. This is a natural occurrence, and will be how you communicate with your dragon."
"That's amazing," she whispered.
He nodded. "It is an extraordinary thing, the bond between a dragon and Rider. There will be many things about the bond that you will discover through your years with your dragon. For now, however, I would like you to try and open the channel of communication between you."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean that you need to try to open your mind and allow your dragon access. Once you begin to communicate, things will become easier. For one thing, you may learn its gender and select an appropriate name to both of your liking. For another, it will help you prepare for using your mind to communicate."
"So, how do I open my mind?" She asked. "It's a slightly confusing concept."
"All you have to do is reach with your mind; try to find your dragon. Go on; close your eyes and concentrate. Feel for the presence of your dragon's consciousness, and when you find it, open yourself to it."
Many failed attempts later, Ismira sighed in frustration. "This is rather difficult," she admitted."
He nodded. "Perhaps your dragon is not quite ready yet," he said. "That is alright; in time, you will be able to open up to each others' minds. It will all happen in time; I just wanted you to attempt it."
She nodded. They spent the rest of the morning and well into the afternoon talking of the many things that were to come. They spoke of the journey they would make to New Vroengard within the coming week; they spoke of some of the training that she would undergo as a new Rider once they arrived; and they spoke of some of the politics of Alagaesia. It was an engaging morning, and by the time she set off for home, Ismira decided that she had never felt more excited at the prospect of anything else in her entire life. The more she thought of her journey to New Vroengard, the more excited she became; the idea of training with her beautiful dragon and being around other Riders (especially her uncle) was more exciting than she could bear.
And so it was with a light heart and a spring in her step that she made her way back home, her dragon still perched atop her shoulder, looking around at everything with avid interest. Once she reached the house, she went off into the forest just beyond the fields, right at the base of the Spine. She went in through the trees, and went to a small clearing that she had been going to ever since she was small. Whenever she felt as if she needed some time to think, she would come to this clearing and just relax and clear her head for a while. She thought it rather appropriate that she shared it with her dragon.
"I've been coming here for a long time," she told the dragon as she gently set it on the ground. It began to sniff around and inspect the area. "I like to come here by myself and think sometimes. Every now and then, if I need a moment to myself, I come here. No one really knows about it; except for you, of course. But I want to share everything with you; you are my dragon, now, after all, and that means we're partners. And partners don't generally keep anything from eachother. I thought this would be a good place to start."
She went and sat at the base of a large tree, shaded from the sun. She watched her dragon as it walked around exploring, and smiled.
"You know, I never thought I would ever become a Rider," she said. "I just never gave it a thought; I mean, the idea that me, of all people, would ever be chosen... it was too much to try and grasp. But now that I have you... well, I already couldn't picture anything different. I'm just glad that you chose me."
This went on well into the afternoon; Ismira sitting with her dragon, just talking to it. She told it stories about her childhood, and all the wonderful things she had heard about the Riders. She expressed her excitement at the journey that lay ahead of them, and told it all about how she was looking forward to meeting her uncle and his famed dragon in person. She told it all the stories that she had heard about him and his dragon Saphira from her father. By the time she felt the need to return home, it was almost evening, and a slight chill crept into the air, filled with the leftover cold from spring.
She placed her dragon on her shoulder and made her way into the house, where she went to the kitchen to find something to feed it. She ended up giving it more strips of dried meat, as well as some leftover venison from the night before. The dragon ate it hungrily, and she smiled at its eagerness as it nudged her palm, silently asking for more. With a laugh, she obliged, giving it a little more jerky before heading into the parlor.
"There you are, darling," her mother said from her seat by the fire. She looked up from the sewing in her lap and smiled. "Where have you been all day? Surely your meeting with Vaenir didn't last all day."
She shook her head as she sat in the chair next to her mother's, her dragon curling up in her lap. "It didn't; but I've been out and about ever since. I wanted to show my dragon a few places that I like to go. I kind of got caught up telling stories."
She laughed. "Is that so?"
Ismira nodded, and pet her dragon's head. It hummed in appreciation. "Well, I have a very good listener on my hands," she said with a chuckle.
Her mother smiled. A moment later, she set her sewing back in its basket, and turned to face Ismira, worrying her lower lip.
"Is there something wrong? You look a bit troubled."
"I'm just... Well, I think I should be honest; I hate the thought of you leaving us. Your father and I are in ruins over it, you know."
"Oh."
She gave her a soft look. "I know that the thought excites you, and you have every right to be excited. But we... we don't want to lose you. You're our only idea of you being gone is a bit of a frightening one. We love you, and we want what's best for you. And we know that this is something that you have to do. But that doesn't mean we won't miss you when you're gone. And no matter how old you get, or how famous and magical you become, you'll still be our little girl."
She smiled. "I know that." She glanced at her dragon, who blinked at her with its bright orange eyes. "It doesn't make it any less painful for me, either. I mean, I'm really excited to go to New Vroengard with Uncle Eragon and the other Riders, but at the same time... I don't want to leave. I've never been outside of Alagaesia, and I've never been away from you or father before. It's definitely frightening on my end, as well."
She reached across and took Ismira's hand in her own, squeezing it softly. "Well, just know that we support you, in everything you do. And I admire how brave you're being about this."
She scoffed slightly. "Brave. We'll have to see about that; when the time comes to leave at the end of the week, I wonder how brave I'll be then."
"Don't think that way; you'll be just as strong as you've always been. Now go on to bed and get some rest; it's been a long day."
With a peck on her mother's cheek, Ismira departed and ascended the stairs to her bedroom, where she slipped into her nightdress, and then under her blankets. her dragon curled up against her chest, its small body giving off a spot of warmth. Nestled in together, Ismira began whispering in the dark about her thoughts, the way she imagined she would have if she ever had a sister. And, much to her surprise, the dragon stayed awake with her, seeming to listen to her every word. It was a comforting experience, being able to confide her innermost thoughts to someone else.
Eventually, she fell asleep, tired from talking so much, but filled with content, nonetheless. She fell asleep with a smile on her face, her little dragon curled against her heart.
The days passed, and almost a week after her dragon hatched, the most extraordinary thing happened; their minds touched. It was the most curious sensation; as she went about her room, getting dressed, she felt as if something had brushed her consciousness. It was unlike anything she had ever felt before; it was like a light, brushing touch, but in her mind. She simply gave her dragon a look, and it looked back at her, almost expectantly.
"That was you, wasn't it?" She walked forward in wonder, and reached out her hand. It nuzzled against it, but then promptly looked back at her. "I know; you need a name," she said with a laugh. "I promise that I'll find you one. Just let me think on it."
It seemed satisfied with her answer, so she finished dressing. Once she finished, she set it on her shoulder and went downstairs, where she met her mother and father for breakfast. As they sat down to eat, she set her dragon on the floor, where it crawled about, sniffing everything and generally checking out the area.
"Ismira, there's something we need to talk about," her father said as they filled their plates with warm bread and eggs.
"Alright," she said in a slightly wary voice. He had sounded as if this were something serious.
"Ismira, your mother and I aren't handling you becoming a Rider very well," he said after a long drink of warm ale.
She glanced at her dragon before looking back and forth between her parents. "What do you mean?"
"I mean that we're a little... skeptical about this whole thing," he said. "It's not that we doubt this is legitimate," he said at the look of alarm on her face, "it's just that we're overwhelmed with the idea of you going off to new Vroengard and becoming an actual Dragon Rider. The thought of you having to do anything even remotely close to what Eragon had to do... it's a bit frightening, as your mother and father, to have to contemplate something like that."
She looked at her plate, and sighed deeply. "It's not like I'll have to kill a king and liberate an empire," she said. "I will be training, and then I will be doing missions and important work for The Empire and Surda, but it won't be anything that I won't be able to handle."
"We just don't want to see anything happen to you," her mother said softly. "You're our only child; we would hate to see you be killed in battle, or captured, or anything of that nature."
She swallowed at the 'only child' was not, for a fact, an only child. When she was five years old, her mother had given birth to a baby boy, whom they named Garrow, after her father's father. He was a perfectly normal and healthy child, but when he was two years old, he fell ill and died suddenly. He had been in poor health, but everyone thought that was due to the harsh winter they had that year; everyone was getting minor illnesses, and no one seemed to go a moment without hearing someone else cough or sneeze. They had assumed it was much the same with him, but before they could speculate about much else, he died suddenly.
It was the worst winter of her life; never had she remembered seeing such sadness than she did during that time. Her mother stayed in her room for days at a time, and her father spent more time in the tavern than she could ever remember. It had been a harsh year for them; her mother still cried and stayed in her room on his birthday every year. So, no; she was not an only child. She hadn't been ever since Garrow was born, even if he wasn't there anymore.
"I know that you're worried about me,"she said, meeting their eyes, "but I know that Uncle Eragon will keep me safe. I mean, New Vroengard is filled with elves and magicians. And then there's Uncle Eragon and Saphira themselves; and I heard that the Elf Queen is an acquaintance of theirs, so if they ever needed her, she would come to their aide. She is a Rider, after all."
"We just don't want to see you get hurt," her mother said.
"I've hunted in the Spine; I've been to the great elf city of Ellesmera; and I am the daughter of Roran Stronghammer, the strongest warrior that Alagaësia has ever seen," she said, standing. "I will be perfectly fine."
They simply looked at her, their mouths agape, in stunned silence. She met their eyes individually, and finally sat back down. She calmly began to eat her food, before it got cold, waiting for them to say something.
Finally, her father broke the silence. "You're right." He sighed. "if anyone can do this, it is you."
She looked up at him, before standing and going around the table to throw her arms about his neck.
"Thank you for believing in me," she whispered.
"Of course," he said. "Always."
A few days later, they prepared to depart. And as they began getting everything prepared in the hours before they left, Ismira felt a knot in her stomach develop and grow. With every step she took through her room to gather her things; with every glance out the window at the fields that she helped her father plant and harvest every year; with each nudge of her dragon's nose against her Gedwëy ignasia, she felt the knot grow and tighten within her. She had been excited about her journey before- and she still was- but it was hitting her at that moment just what she was about to do.
To keep herself distracted from her nerves, she conjured a list of possible names for her dragon in her head.
"What about Starfire?" she asked as she packed her clothing into a sack.
It looked at her with distaste, so she tried another.
"Well, do you like Aurora?"
It gave her a pointed look. She rattled off name after name, until she realized something; all of the names she was suggesting were female.
"Oh my goodness; you're a boy, aren't you? I feel so foolish!"
He seemed pleased that she had finally figured it out. She smiled at him and patted his head.
"You're a boy; no wonder you didn't like any of those names," she said with a chuckle. "I am simply a fool, aren't I?"
She went back to packing, and started thinking of male names. She came up with plenty; but none of them seemed to fit whenever she said them out loud. Finally, she rattled off another one, which lead to a great discovery.
"What about... Naërving?" she asked.
His eyes widened slightly, and he looked pleased.
"You like that one, then? Naërving... it suits you." She gave him a radiant smile. "We've done it, then!"
With a flourish, she scooped him up and carried him downstairs, where she burst through into the sitting room where her mother and father were.
"I've done it!" she cried. "I've named my dragon!"
"Is that so?" her father asked. "Let us hear it, then."
"Mother; father; I present to you, the greatest dragon in all of Alagaësia, Naërving, the Valiant."
"The Valiant, eh?" Her father said with a chuckle. "How interesting."
She smiled. "I just had to tell you about it."
"Well, I'm glad that you've finally found him a name," her mother said.
"As are we," she replied with a smile. "I would love to discuss this more, but I have to finish packing."
With a spin,she and and Naërving made their way back into her room, where she hurriedly finished packing her clothing away. When she finished, they made their way back downstairs, where they found her mother and father waiting for her.
"Are you ready, then?" her father asked.
She nodded, and glanced at Naërving.
"We're ready."
A/N: I know this chapter was suuuuuuper long, but I promise that the other ones will be shorter. But please don't let the length put you off; keep reading! New chapters will come, I promise. And they will be decent lengths lol.