Really a one shot here. I final book in the series and this was my true and honest reaction. I may continue it but it's really raw and I'm afraid people are going to think that my character and Eragon will fall in love... really not why I write stories Okay!

Beyond

There are people who see books as portals into another world. I find that to be one hundred percent true. Just ask the reading rainbow. Never heard of it? Google it.

This is the kind of age I come from. The age of technology becoming simplified or "updated" on everything and anything; which once you think about it, it's not really simple at all. Everything that seems simple to me tends to be complicated to others and vice versa. Is this simply because I am part of the new generation, or is there just something wrong with my own head?

Of course I eventually came to the conclusion that, although scientific standards may disagree, the second conclusion was absolutely wrong. Instantly after the former revelation, which I will be informing you of the details that brought me to them shortly, I knew that the first assumption was also wrong.

Doctors believe I have Asperger's Syndrome. Maybe I do. Many people with Asperger's claim that they have another world they go to, as if they're on the wrong planet. I get that feeling many times too. This feeling I believe was because I was a Christian and my true home was to be with God and to be able to praise him for all eternity. The idea is still possible and I would truly enjoy that rapture. However, I was on the earth and by human standards I wasn't going anywhere soon.

I was twenty one years of age when it happened. Most "normal" people have graduated from college, getting a job, and hopefully being able to set up plans to settle down. I had gone through two years of college at a very difficult school and had a rug pulled from under my feet. Not literally of course. I wasn't even closed to prepared, for the workload. So I had to move back home and battle with depression. Eventually, at least two months later, I got up enough nerve to set a plan to meet with a therapist, go see a doctor about my health, and work on getting my driver's license. That is of course a very long story that I don't even want to begin to write.

It was the first week of the New Year when I was finishing the series of an exciting medieval fantasy book the night where everything in my life turned upside down. It was called "The Inheritance Cycle" and included four books; Eragon, Eldest, Brisingr, and Inheritance written by Christopher Paolini. The story was about Dragon Riders. The main character, Eragon, matures over the series. For more information do find the nearest library at once or none of the following will be marvelous or terrifying at all.

Besides the series being wonderfully written, my medication tended to cause me to be emotional, especially around a certain time of the month. So while I read the last few chapters I was riveted to the point that I was gripping the book and shaking. I was unsure of why exactly I was shaking except for the fact that everything was ending the way I didn't want it to.

There was a point when I realized that Eragon would absolutely have to leave Alagaësia without Arya. There was no going back. I experienced a deep wrenching sorrow in my gut. A torrent of tears flushed from my eyes. My emotions were so completely connected with Eragon that it was like I was experiencing the anguish myself. There were a few more lines that I tried to read but couldn't quite comprehend.

I wept for nearly fifteen minutes. The tears were far from silent and I could not stop the sobs wrecking through my chest. After the first few minutes I slumped into my bed headfirst with the underside of my forearms under my eyes so the sheets wouldn't get wet from my tears. I was already in my nightgown and figured that I would simply cry myself out and fall to sleep.

After my sobs subsided it was clear that falling asleep was impossible. Quite suddenly my hands were no longer cushioned by my sheets but were being rubbed against the finest polished wood I had ever seen in my life. There were no boards like I would have expected. It was all one single piece of wood. My hair had fallen in front of my face as I looked up to see the outline of the head of a boat. It was then that I noticed the gentle swaying sensation of a capsule on water.

Surely I was dreaming. The boat was just like the ship in the book I had just finished reading. Yet I hadn't taken the medicine that I had to put me to sleep. I always knew when I hadn't taken it. It took me a moment to recognize that what I was experiencing was either really happening or some abstract vision from God. For the second experience, I would have been expecting more loud trumpets and bright lights and an angel. For the moment though the ship was quiet, almost silent on the river.

A moan and a sniffle came from the left of the prow outlined in the dark and a saw a flash of hair. Fear and excitement burst in me at once making my pulse pound. If it was who I thought it was I would have some story to tell. Yet, from all I read about him in the books he may think I'm a spy and throw me off the ship right then and there in order to keep his cargo safe. I was frozen there, knowing he would see me soon enough.

My mind started to race. When he saw me what would I say?

Too late, he saw me and put his hand on his sword. I squealed and put my hands up. A breeze shifted around my night gown and immediately put my arms down again and shivered.

"What is your name and how did you get on this ship?" Eragon asked.

I was shocked at the deepness of his voice. When I read I always imagined his voice to be mellow. A thought crossed my mind that he had been crying too. "Anameg," I blurted out for a name. That is of course not my real name. If I told him my real name I was afraid he'd think I was lying. It was a name I had fashioned over a year ago from my own name Megan Ann. I knew last names were nothing more than a title in the world I seemed to be in.

He seemed to accept my reply but I noticed his hand was still close to his sword. "And how did you get on this ship?"

The moonlight fell across his face as if a shadow passed over it and I could see the tears he had missed still on his face. I felt close to tears again. "I really don't know how I got here," I replied.

Eragon looked confused after a moment of considering weather I was telling the truth. "Where are you from then?"

Suddenly just like finding the wood boat under my hands I understood the finality of my situation. He was real and I was on a boat on a world where home did not exist.

Everything I knew was suddenly gone, just like it had been for Eragon. I burst into tears and cried out in agony at the hopelessness of my situation. All the things I would miss. My family flashed before my eyes as I doubled over and sobbed harder than before. The pain of the realization was real, like a sword through my stomach.

Warm, firm, hands cupped my upper arms and I saw Eragon within a foot from me. My muscles crumpled but he easily kept me standing. "Calm yourself," he said. "I won't harm you."

I wanted to hug him and know that he was another living being and I wasn't alone. With my nightgown on I knew that it wouldn't be appropriate. I took some deep breaths and tried to put my family aside for a moment. "Do you," I cleared my throat, "Do you have any clothes I could wear?"

Eragon seemed to look down at my garments for the first time. I thought I saw him flush even though I knew my body wasn't exactly enticing it was still more than intimate. "Of course, I'll get you some clothes and a place to change." He then promptly he let go of me and I followed him to the entrance of the hold.

When we got near he leaned over at that moment I scuffed my bare foot across the wood floor and lost my balance. I didn't regain it until I nearly knocked Eragon off his feet. The cold metal of his sword hilt reached through my night gown and I jumped back. "I am so sorry," I said drawing out the word "so".

Eragon gave me a half smile. "It's okay. You seem unsteady," he pointed out. "Next time you try to fall reach for my arm or shoulder instead of my waist." The next smile was a real one.

I looked at him for a moment and the smile melted from his face and turned into the slight concern I had seen when he wanted me to calm down. I opened my mouth to speak. "It is good to have someone to talk to when you're alone in the world," I managed.

Concern left his face. "Yes," he agreed, "But I am not alone."

A large thud came from the side of the boat and I heard for the first time the true sound of a dragon roar.

I grinned. "Saphira," I called in a breathy whisper. My thoughts then were far from my family. This was a fantasy come to life. I would not tarnish this visit, real or simply in my head, with sorrowful thoughts of my family. I went over several considerations in my head of how, if I even did exist in my world, and found that I'd forgotten all about getting clothes.

I found myself blushing because Eragon had said my name many times before I responded. "Sorry," I found myself saying again. "I got lost in my thoughts." A small expression of acceptance crossed over his face and he led me down inside.

The fabric of the clothing was unlike any I had ever worn before. It was sturdy but light and surprisingly felt-like. When I first picked up a shirt I was sure it would rip as I put it over my head. It did nothing close to ripping. I realized that the tunic seemed to actually form up around me in all the right places. For instance my breasts, rather embarrassingly large, were pulled up and apart. I looked down at having felt the movement and realized that strips of cloth were being added by magic.

Not only did I realize that the clothes were being changed around my body but also that my body was changing on its own. My large breasts became smaller and my waist curved but flat. I cried out in surprise as Eragon knocked on the door. "What is it doing to me?" I called out.

Eragon called through the door, "If you put on the blue jerkin then it may have modified your gait."

I walked to the door and opened it. The room was small compared to the rest of the hold and there was only enough room for a small table and two chairs. "Is it permanent?"

Eragon lifted a shoulder. "I should have warned you. Some elves end up putting spells on their clothing in order to keep them healthy. I didn't think it would make much difference." He looked at me finally noticing why I had been surprised at the change.

I had always wanted to be able to lose weight. I thought for a moment. Well if it truly is a spell then it'll probably wear off eventually.

My mind then drastically changed gears. What on earth was I going to eat? How long would I be here? The rest of my life… The religion I believed in wasn't on this world. Panic was evident on my face because Eragon had me sit down and calm myself again.

He asked a few questions gently but I hadn't been listening. "What?"

"You didn't tell me where you were from," Eragon repeated. "I was wondering if there was a village nearby. Where I'm from no one has ever been here before."

I blinked dumbly at him and took a breath. "I'm not from here," I replied hesitating because I wanted to tell him the truth. He noticed my hesitation easily and leaned back in the chair he was sitting in. "I don't think you would believe me if I told you where I'm from."

Eragon nodded. "I agree you're from somewhere no one I know of has been," he said. "I knew many knowledgeable people. Which you may know about since you seemed to recognize Saphira."

"I'm not here to hurt anyone," I said earnestly. "I swear! I couldn't lift a sword or bow let alone kill anyone with it. Even if I eventually learned to I would be too afraid." I had to follow up with the last sentence because I had actually raised swords harmless and not as well as hit a bull's-eye with a bow and arrow once. My mom is a big fan of The Lord of the Rings. So often our vacations would be to Renaissance Fairs with knights in shining armor and target practice. As ironic as the situation I knew that I did not have the guts to put a force into any kind of blow to hurt someone on purpose.

Eragon seemed to believe me. "So then Anameg," he said. "What do you know about me?"

Refusing to look him in the eyes I answered, "Everything."

"Start talking…."

I swallowed. He wasn't directly threatening me but I was still quite terrified. I started to tell him everything I could remember from the books I loved so dearly. He stayed silent except for the several times I said a name wrong.

"I must admit I have never met anyone like you Anameg," Eragon stated when I was finished. "The source of the eggs wasn't directly reported to anyone but the Eldunari."

I sighed. "There is no point in lying to you Eragon," I said, "Or in keeping secrets. Truly at this point I may never return to where I came from. The simplest way to explain it is that I am from a different world than here. In my world there is a man who wrote a book about you. In my world you're not real and well that's where things get complicated."

A line on Eragon's forehead thickened in thought. "As absurd as it sounds I believe you," he said. "Are your clothes suitable?"

I felt my blood rush to my cheeks as I looked down at my modified torso and pants. "Very suitable," I replied. "This is a very flattering shade of blue."

Eragon nodded and smiled. "It brings out your eyes," he agreed and I was sure my face was boiling.

My anxiety of being somewhere foreign and having been flattered by a character I almost knew better than myself made me jittery. I couldn't keep still so I jiggled around my knees and clacked the boots I had on, on the floor. Besides my anxiety I had no idea what to do or say. So we sat there saying nothing for several minutes until Eragon spoke again.

"Since you know so much I may consider letting you stay until we can find a way to get you back to where you belong," he said. "From no intention of being boastful I may be the only person who could really help you back home anyway."

I nodded. "Maybe you can practice teaching me," I said with a smile knowing that he would be leading the new riders when they came into being. He gave me a smile back. "Could….could I see just one egg?" I asked. "In my world there are no dragons at all… never in existence."

Eragon raised his eyebrows in mild surprise. "I suppose it won't hurt," he said and stood up and opened the door for me to go out into the hold. On one side there was a large chest that seemed to be whispering mysteriously while on the other side there was an arrangement of different sized caskets or boxes. One box was as tall as I was. Most of the others were much smaller.

There was a time in my life when I was very interested in calligraphy. I was never good at it but I found that dipping a piece of metal or glass into ink and writing on paper was so cool. It had been my first trip to the ocean the summer before my first semester in college when I had purchased a nicely boxed kit for holding calligraphy utensils. The size of the box was a few inches in width and depth while nearly a foot long. It was the only thing I knew to compare to the box Eragon had picked up to show me. It was by far the smallest box in the lot but I was no less excited.

When Eragon started to undo the latch on the box I started to get excited. However, when he pulled the lid back I was a bit disappointed. I had been imagining what sort of wonderful fascinating colors the egg would be. Instead the egg was gray and speckled with darker gray spots. It wasn't exactly a magnificent color. I cleared my throat hoping my disappointment wasn't too apparent.

"Do you know if this egg is attached to a rider?" I asked. Looking at Eragon was still a bit of a shock. I wasn't used to someone with his face shape and pointy ears so I missed any expression of negativity to my reaction.

"Yes, it actually is," he said giving me a small smile. "They were all supposed to be left with a friend but this one was overlooked somehow. I'm going to have to figure out a way to return it to the others."

"I'll bet it'll hatch for a dwarf," I replied not wanting to mention Arya. "It looks like a rock and is small enough for a dwarf."

Eragon laughed. My heart skipped a beat. "Yes I suppose you're right," he said. "This would be the perfect dragon for a new dwarf Rider."

Hearing his laughter made me feel a bit dizzy for some reason. Admitting to an earnest infatuation with Eragon would only be normal. After all I wept for him at the end of the book. I cared about his pain even though he wasn't real. Now that he was real… There aren't really words to describe that kind of feeling.

"Would you like to hold it?" Eragon asked.

My mouth dropped open in surprise. Of course I would have liked to hold it. Yet if this were some freakish fantasy and for some reason the egg decided to hatch for me I wouldn't know what to do with myself. Then again who was I to be a dragon Rider? I wasn't even from a world with dragons. The nagging suspicion that the egg would hatch in my hand made me hesitate. I was as dull as the color of the egg. Surely that would mean that the dragon was much more magnificent than I could imagine. My mind started to race again. I couldn't be a dragon Rider. It was one hundred percent impossible.

"Yes," I decided. Eragon raised an eyebrow and took the egg from the box and put it in my hands. For a moment I held the egg as if it were a bomb about to go off. I thought something might start moving inside of it but after several seconds nothing happened and I relaxed.

"Are you alright Anameg?" Eragon asked.

Swallowing I handed the egg back to him. "This is just a lot to take in," I responded. "I don't really know what to expect from this."

"I understand," Eragon insisted. "You're afraid. It takes a dragon to run the fear of the world out of you."

A gasp of sudden emotion escaped from me. "You have no idea how I wish that could happen," I blurted. Eragon shrugged and put the box back where he got it from.

"Although Saphira is my greatest asset to countering fear I am sure dragons are not the only things that make people brave," Eragon pointed out. Emotion ached in my chest and I turned away frustrated that I seemed to cry every five minutes. "I think you should rest," he added. "I'll set up a camp on shore so you can lie down."

I sniffed. "You really don't need to go through all that trouble," I protested. "I don't want you to stop just for me."

Eragon sighed. "I told you that no one has been out this far beyond Alagaësia," he explained. "I never planned on drifting on this river forever. Here is as good a place to stop as any."

Seeing that there was no real way to dissuade him I nodded and let him lead me back up to the deck. The next few hours we bedded the ship near the bank and set up camp. Doing things with my hands seemed to suit me more than I ever thought it did. I became more focused on what needed to be done than thinking so much about what I should be doing.

Tying up a medieval tent wasn't as hard as I thought it was but Eragon had to teach me how to properly tie a rope. I apologized for seeming so clueless and tried to explain how tents were put together from what I could remember. He seemed thoroughly interested in the poles that could be stretched into long bendable supports and then taken apart in sections for storage.

"I thought your world didn't have magic," Eragon pointed out.

I doubled over in laughter. "That's not magic," I explained. "Maybe I can figure a way to show you how it works without magic someday. It's an invention really. In my world people come up with ideas for making items used better or more efficient."

Eragon shook his head not entirely understanding. I sighed and continued. "If you wanted to farm out here you'd have to work the land with a plow and a work horse right?" He nodded. "In my world they've created an engine with wheels that pushes a plow all by itself. You only need a person to sit in a box on top to make sure it goes the right way."

I spent the next several hours talking to him about the differences between his world and mine. Before I knew it I was telling him about my family and we were sharing pieces of dried apple. Eventually Eragon started telling me about stories of his family and Carvahall that had never been told before.

We were two lonely people sharing in each other's company in a world beyond the both of us.