A/N: As an intelligent person might no doubt surmise, I am not CP and therefore do not own the Inheritance Cycle nor any of the characters or places which pertain to Paolini's universe. Garrow is an OC, and the first chapter is entirely from his POV. Second chapter will be out (hopefully) within a few days, and will be from Eragon's POV. This will be an ExA story, eventually, with Garrow being a main character. Reviews and contructive criticism are greatly appreciated.
WARNING: DO NOT READ THIS IF YOU HAVE NOT READ INHERITANCE BOOK FOUR, AS IT CONTAINS SPOILERS.
Story summary/blurb: Forty years after the defeat of Galbatorix, Garrow Roransson is chosen to take up the mantle of the Riders. Leaving behind his home and his family, Garrow travels to Ellesmera for the first stage of his training. Meanwhile, in the Riders lands just to the east of the Alagaesian border, Eragon Shadeslayer becomes troubled by rumours of an unnamed shadow threatening to bring and end to this golden age of peace and prosperity. Taking it upon himself to temporarily return to Alagaesia and deal with this threat, Eragon and Saphira set out to investigate the cause of these unknown disturbances with help from the apprentice Riders under their tutelage.
Croaking; creaking, the old carriage trundled its way along the eastbound road. Garrow Roransson, sitting opposite his father, examined the land outside the window, anxiously wringing his hands as he left his old life behind. The driver, Nolfavrell, was whistling a merry tune as they rode further and further away from the great city of Ceunon, towards the outskirts of the vast forests of Du Weldenvarden.
Garrow strongly resembled the men on his father's side of the family, with a mat of curly brown hair, inquisitive brown eyes and a solid build. He was half a head taller than his father, and just as broad of shoulder. Wearing travelling clothes of fine make as befitted his status as the son of an earl, he was the image of his uncle Eragon before he had left Carvahall in his youth, or so his parents told him.
Garrow remembered sombrely the morning; how he had been forced to say farewell to his mother, Katrina, and his beloved sisters. He was the youngest of four children, and the only son of his family. Despite his eighteen summers and the fact that he was a man grown, Garrow had been unable to prevent tears at their farewell. Where he was going, he knew, he was unlikely to ever see them again. His ageing mother, nearing the end of her sixth decade of life, had hugged him tightly after loading his pack on the top of the carriage. You'll do us proud, she had whispered fiercely, there's nothing to fear. Remember who you are and what we taught you and you'll do us proud. His sisters, who had each made the journey to Ceunon with their husbands in order to farewell him, had embraced him one after the other and wished him the best of luck while his father and Nolfavrell had patiently waited. Eventually, they could delay no longer.
"It's time, son. We can't keep her waiting for us. Just because she is likely to be late is no reason for us to be tardy ourselves."
So, tears still stinging down his face, Garrow had stepped into the rickety old carriage and away from his life as the heir to the earldom of Palancar Valley. Now, just a few hours later, Garrow had barely spoken a word and, as his father stretched his neck and ran a hand through his grey and receding hair, a snort and a soft growl filled the silence. Absentmindedly, Garrow reached out a hand to stroke the golden scaled dragon hatchling sleeping on his right hand side. Barely a few weeks old, and no bigger than a small dog, it was this dragon hatchling which had so drastically changed his life.
Yet Garrow felt no anger nor dislike towards this creature, who would be a permanent part of his life from the moment he hatched until the day he died. The bond that had been forged by the magic of the Rider's pact with the dragons had forever linked their fates, and Garrow had the overwhelming urge to do whatever was necessary to protect this helpless infant.
Not helpless for long at this rate, he thought as he remembered how small the hatchling had been when he had first touched it. In only two short weeks the dragon had grown half again as large as its original size. Looking at the young dragon now, with the sunlight entering from the window of the carriage giving his scales a resplendent, shimmering quality, Garrow felt a growing sense of excitement. He was going to become the stuff of legend; see the fabled forests of the elves, ride a ferocious dragon into battle to bring about peace and prosperity throughout the land. He would visit the Rider's fiefdoms in the eastern lands beyond Alagaesia, ruled over by his legendary uncle, Eragon Shadeslayer, and rumoured to be the most beautiful and plentiful lands in the entirety of the world. No more were the dreams he had of adventure and magic whilst living in dreary Carvahall simply dreams; he would live the life he had yearned for since he had been old enough to swing a sword.
Spurred by a sudden desire to know more about where he was going, Garrow looked towards his father.
"The woman we are going to meet. Did you know her well?" He asked.
"Arya?" replied Roran after a moment, "I suppose you might say I knew her better than most of the Varden, the rebel group which opposed the tyrant Galbatorix. Not well enough to call her a friend, certainly, but we fought together on many occasions during the war and there is a certain kinship that develops from such experiences."
"What is she like?"
"She lived for many years among humans as an ambassador for her race, so do not take what I have to say of her as the norm for all elves, but I will tell you what little I can." Roran's eyes took on a glazed look, and Garrow knew his father was no longer truly in the carriage with him, but reliving the memories of his time spent fighting against the oppressive rule of the mad King Galbatorix. "It has been a little over forty years since last I spoke to her, you understand, so I cannot be sure that she hasn't changed, but when I knew her she was a fierce warrior. Ruthless and beautiful, she looked not much older than you do now, perhaps in her early twenties, but don't let that deceive you. She was over a century old even then."
"A hundred! Surely that's impossible. How could she possibly look like you describe and be over a hundred years old?" Garrow's father gave him a stern look in reprimand for his shocked outburst. "Sorry father; please continue."
"Elves, like dragons, are a race with magic running through their blood. They are immortal unless physically killed, whether by a blade, magic or some incurable malady of the flesh..." Roran paused, seeming unsure of whether to continue, and then spoke. "Dragon Riders, like elves and like their dragons, are also immortal."
Garrow sat in a stunned silence. He was immortal now? Never to die, to live on through the ages, his friends and allies, those he loved, all ageing and dying around him, seemed a very sad existence.
Roran cleared his throat, clearly feeling awkward with the sudden silence of the carriage. "In any case, if you have questions you should direct them at your teachers, as I'm quite sure I know almost as little as you do about what being a Rider entails."
Garrow nodded in acknowledgement, and asked his father to continue answering his original question.
"Of course, Arya, what to say... She had an aloof personality; seemed to have few friends even among the other elves. In fact I'd go so far as to say that the only person she appeared to have a genuine affection for was your uncle, Eragon. I imagine that being the only member of her race living among humans for more than seven decades made her that way. Her reputation as a warrior during the rebellion was second only to Eragon himself. She earned the title Shadeslayer at the Siege of Feinster, securing our victory over the city, and it was her whom slew the black dragon Shruikan during the final battle at Uru'Baen, which is of course now Ilirea once more.
"After the war, she took the remaining dragon egg from the dead King's vault in order to ferry it between the races as she had done previously for the dragon Saphira's egg, but it hatched for her. Her mother, the elvish Queen, died during the last battle, and Arya became Queen in her place, which has been a contentious decision among the other monarchs in Alagaesia, who felt that it was inappropriate for a Dragon Rider to also be the ruler of a nation, as Galbatorix had been. It has caused no little amount of tension, regardless of the fact that all elves are as long-living as Dragon Riders, but I feel that Nasuada and Orik, the dwarf King, trust Arya enough not to abuse her power as a Rider in order to further the elves cause..." Roran trailed off while Garrow retreated into his own thoughts.
Not long later, Nolfavrell slowed their journey to a halt and declared that they had arrived at the assigned meeting place. Garrow stepped down from the carriage and looked towards the sun, trying to judge the hour. What he saw troubled him. They had arrived at least an hour later than midday, the chosen time, yet there was no sign of the elvish Queen, who would be Garrow's first tutor, until his as yet unnamed dragon was old enough to make the flight to the lands beyond Alagaesia, where Eragon and the other four Riders that had been chosen since the defeat of Galbatorix made their home.
Garrow stretched his cramped muscles and tried not to worry as his father exited the carriage gingerly. He personally would have preferred to ride in the saddle himself rather than spend hours in a wooden box, but his father had a strange aversion to riding on horseback, despite the fact that most of his spare time went towards breeding the bloodline of horses which were his pride and glory, descendant from a stallion which he often told Garrow of, who had been ridden across Alagaesia by his uncle during his many adventures. Garrow heard his father cursing Arya for being late behind him.
"Damn elves, no sense of timing. World moves so slowly to them, she probably won't show up 'til next week..."
Garrow heard Nolfavrell laugh loudly and tease his father about his impatience, but paid little attention as he sensed the dragon in the carriage wake up. A moment later, the dragon sent a feeling of hunger towards him and was at his side, nudging his leg with it's snout.
"Yes, yes, alright. Be patient; you only ate an hour ago." Garrow absently took a few strips of meat he had wrapped up in his pocket and dropped them to the ground for the insistent dragon. He felt a hand on his shoulder, and turned to meet Roran's eyes.
"You ok, son?"
"Just a little nervous", Garrow replied, looking at the ground and shifting his feet.
"Do you remember the elvish greeting I taught you?"
"Yes, father."
"Right." Roran glanced towards Nolfavrell, and then raised his other hand so that he was grasping Garrow by both shoulders. "Listen closely, son. I know you won't want me to embarrass you in front of your new teachers, so I'll say my piece and my goodbye now, before they arrive. You have it in you to be everything that the Riders of old were. You are compassionate, clever, and a good man. Nobody can ask for more in their child, and know this; I am proud of you. You and your dragon will make the world a better place for everyone. Remember the values you were taught at home, and never let anyone make you do something which goes against your conscience. You will do well." There was a shine in his eyes, and Garrow knew his father was holding back tears.
"Will I see you again?" he asked, voice full of emotion.
"Just under a year from now, the great competitions which Eragon created before he left are being held in Hedarth. If my health permits the journey, I will accompany Queen Nasuada as a part of her retinue, and I have no doubt that the Riders will all be present, seeing as Hedarth is so close to their lands, on the borders of Alagaesia. We may well see each other then." Upon saying this Roran pulled Garrow into a fierce bear hug, to which Garrow responded in kind.
They spent the next two hours joking and laughing as Nolfavrell regaled them with stories of his journies as a young man to the Beor Mountains and Surda, while the golden scaled dragon hummed lightly as it lay in Garrow's lap. All three of the men continuously glanced towards the sky and the line imposing pine trees which marked the edge of Du Weldenvarden, searching for any sign of the elven Queen. Garrow became increasingly nervous as he wondered whether the elf would show up at all.
Then, half an hour later, the golden dragon lifted his head and stared skywards, while a dull thud began to resonate in the air, growing louder each second. Nolfavrell, looking eastward, muttered under his breath.
"Finally."
Garrow himself sat, mouth agape, totally speechless, as a massive emerald green dragon landed twenty feet away from them.
He's...he's a monster. He's huge. Will my dragon grow that large? Garrow thought as he watched the huge head of the dragon turn towards them, letting loose a growl which sounded like the roar of the Igualda Falls near Carvahall, and examining them with eyes of vast intelligence.
It was only after seeing the movement of her dismounting in the corner of his eye that Garrow noticed the Rider. His father's description of her did little justice. He had called her beautiful, but that did nothing to prepare Garrow for the vision before him. Tall, with raven black hair, she did indeed look to be a woman in her early twenties, though her emerald eyes belied this fact, filled as they were with the wisdom of nearly a century and a half of experience. There was an exotic quality to her angled face and pointed ears, as well as her garb. She was the first woman Garrow had ever seen wearing pants. The black leather fitted snugly to her form, leaving little to the imagination. Garrow felt himself flushing as the elf caught him staring at her. As he averted his eyes, Garrow noticed the sword strapped to her right hip. It was slim and long, with a hand-and-a-half handle which would suit a grip of one or both hands, and had an emerald jewel encased in its pommel.
With feline grace, Arya strode towards them. Despite the size and obvious ferocity of the great dragon, Garrow could not help but feel that Arya was by far the more dangerous of the pair.
He crows like a rooster, thought Garrow, but she stalks like a true hunter.
She stood before them, cocking an eyebrow at him, and Garrow belatedly found his manners, remembering the elvish greeting he had been taught. Twisting an arm over his sternum in a gesture of respect, he spoke.
"Atra esterni ono thelduin."
The corner of Arya's lips quirked upwards in a small show of amusement before she replied.
"Mor'ranr lifa unin hjarta onr. You must be Garrow." She turned and was greeted by Roran and Nolfavrell in similar fashion. Then she spoke to Garrow's father. "Stronghammer. It has been longer than I thought, or so your years tell me. How is your wife?"
"Katrina is well, thank you. The years have been far kinder to you than they have been to me. You look hardly a day older than you were."
She regarded him quizzically. "What did you expect?"
Roran seemed to find her response to be some sort of joke, for he laughed heartily.
"Forgive; most human women enjoy being told that they look youthful. I was only trying to be polite."
"Ah. Have you grown eloquent, Roran Stronghammer? I seem to remember you were never one for pleasantries." She favoured him with a wan smile, and they spent a few minutes catching up while Garrow and Nolfavrell waited silently. After sniffing at Arya's left hand, the palm of which held the silvery shimmer of the gedwey ignasia, similarly to Garrows right hand, the golden dragon had moved towards his elder and began playfully butting the forelegs of the emerald scaled behemoth.
Eventually, Arya glanced at the position of the sun in the sky and declared, "We had best take our leave. We have tarried too long already." She gave a nod of farewell to Roran and inclined her head politely to Nolfavrell, then moved towards the dragons.
Nolfavrell grasped Garrow's forearm and pulled him into a rough embrace, wishing him well. Turning towards his father, Garrow suddenly felt the poignancy of this goodbye. Roran embraced him son one final time, and bid him farewell.
"Good luck, lad. I'll no doubt see you in a year's time, eh?" Roran clapped him on the back and moved the old carriage. All too soon, it was once again trundling its way down the road towards Ceunon, and Garrow felt incredibly alone.
Steeling himself after a moment, Garrow turned and made his way towards where Arya and the dragons awaited him. The green dragon looked at him with its golden eyes, full of wisdom and experience, and Garrow suddenly felt the touch of a vast consciousness on his mind.
Greeting, hatchling-Rider-Garrow, I am Firnen, the dragon spoke, his mental voice of the deepest timbre Garrow had ever heard.
I am honoured to meet you, Great One, Garrow replied.
The dragon regarded him for a moment, and then gave a hum of approval. Garrow felt a growing sense of apprehension; what if he wasn't good enough, what if he failed in his training and brought shame to his family? As if sensing his uneasiness, Arya gave him and encouraging look.
"Are you ready, Garrow, son of Roran?" she asked.
Garrow looked west, towards where his father's carriage had gone over a small hill and out of sight.
Am I ready? He thought as he picked up his dragon hatchling and stared into its golden eyes. It cocked its head at him, and he felt the touch of its mind.
Our fate... A distinctly male voice spoke into his mind, and Garrow's eyes widened in surprise. It was the first time the dragon had spoken. Garrow felt his nervously beating heart slow, and squared his shoulders, meeting Arya's eyes.
"Yes", he said, "We are ready."
An odd flash of something crossed her eyes... recognition? After regarding him for a long moment, she replied.
"You know, Garrow... I really think you are."
A/N: Hope you enjoyed the first chapter, even though nothing really important happened, but i thought it important to introduce Garrow properly. The dragon (or the author) will choose to name himself at some stage, but probably not next chapter, as Garrow is not likely to be in it.
Feel free to drop a review, seeing as this is my first time writing fanfiction.