Prologue:
The tears never stopped, not until he saw "Stenr abr Shur'tugal". Since leaving Du Weldenvarden, he was mostly below deck, thinking about the people he had just lost, the victory which he had never completed celebrating, and of course, Arya.
Eragon and his ship had been wandering the sea for five weeks. Not a hint ofland, there was. Eragon was sleeping when the ship hit land, and he woke up, with a bruise on his head and Saphira's roar ringing in his ears. What happened, Saphira? Are you all right? , asked Eragon, reaching for the hilt of Brisingr. Land, little one, land! Elated, Eragon bounded up the stairs, onto the deck, said, "Oh" lamely, and almost fell down again.
The land was beautiful, ample space for hundreds of dragons and their riders. Lush green plains, and great mountains, the size of the Beors, some even larger. The mountains are huge! And he could already see bucks peeking protectively form out of the bushes. He scanned the Island to find it teeming with game. No problem for food. He could sense Saphira's satisfied hum through their link. Saphira, I think this might be the fruit of our wanderings, ask the Eldunarí! Do they agree?
Yes, they do. I already asked them. And the elves too.
Good. Let's go see our new home, the place which will be sung of, as the place where the Dragon riders were revived.
With a huge amount of excitement, which he sense from Saphira too, and a tiny bit of trepidation, too, they set out.