Bells of Aiedail
The familiar sound of waves hitting over the shore echoed along the beach. For the residents of this place, its not unusual anymore to see the glimmering white figure standing on it. He is known by many names throughout the century, Lead Rider, Shadeslayer, Argetlam, Kingkiller, hero of Alagaesia.
At first impression, any observer would first assume that this person is born an elf. Long silver hair fall at his back like a mantle of steel and violet irises that can stare into the very soul of anyone is an attest to that. His ears are also slanted like most elves and there is no sign anymore of the naive and vengeance absorbed boy who long ago left Carvahall with nothing more than the skills of a mediocre hunter when he set out to kill the Ra'zac. Nor is there any sign of the lovestruck hybrid-human who shared his true name who fell in love on the current Elven Queen. Now stood a Rider that would have made a fitting successor for Vrael, had the ancient Rider been still alive.
The cry of the gulls echoed again and the white robed man smirked as the familiar smells of the sea enveloped him. Once he had wondered why the Elves loved the sea so much, but now he understood. There's just something about it that makes you admire it. Other than the sea gives off its own unique song which had no comparison anywhere else. The representation it gives off to the world and him as a hole is what he admired about it. The aura of freedom, openness, unbent, unconquered and unchained, just like the riders and the dragons of New Vroengard.
A very familiar roar echoed in the distance and the white robed figure smiled as he turned his attention from the wide expanse of the sea to the sapphire figure gleaming on the clouds coming closer towards his direction. He only closed his eyes, letting the familiar feeling of his partner in heart and mind's being enveloped his. His old master once taught him that a dragon rider's strength does not come from how much magic or skill he learned, rather it came on how strong is his or her bond with their dragon. For no matter how powerful you are, one can never stand alone. For a Dragon Rider, it takes two souls to truly deserve that title. For the settlers and Riders of New Vroengard, that lesson is the first and foremost that he drilled unto his students.
"Little one!" the joy of her dragon at seeing him again made him smile as she gracefully landed on the beach beside him despite her large bulk. Once more he can't help but admire the beauty of his dragon, her blue scales shone in the afternoon sun and he had never seen anyone or anything as majestic as she is.
The dragon only made an equivalent of a smug smirk as she leant down to touch his brow with her snout. "I am flattered Little one,"
"Of course you are," he replied with a satisfied tone. He knew more than anyone that dragons loved praises, especially female dragons.
"I couldn't find you when I woke up little one," she chided sitting down beside him staring into the massive waters. "How I missed the days that I could hear you stumble through the front door every time,"
"That time is long passed Saphira. I was naive and weak back then. I don't know how you put up with me back then,"
"Oh little one. Don't forget your past. You are my rider and I had loved the person you were before, and the person you came to be,"
"Something that came with age I guess," shrugged the white figure. "If I've ever got a chance to go back in time, I won't hesitate to bonk my younger self to beat the impatience out of him. How I never infuriated Ebrithil back then remained a mystery for me until today. If I had a student like me, I won't had hesitated on throwing him from the nearest cliff to emphasize my point," he said, his violet eyes shining both with a little mirth and sadness as he remembered studying under the ancient rider on the Crags of Tel'Nir. If he only knew how soon his mentor will be taken away from him by the mad king, he wouldn't have been so arrogant on some aspects of his studies.
"You could be a little infuriating at times I agree," chuckled the sapphire dragon showing him a memory of his younger self forcing a pebble to float using magic, his face containing a frustrated expression.
"Do I really look as funny as that?" he asked after the image receded.
"No, its funnier," what could only be an equivalent to a giggle came from his partner in heart and mind beside him.
Rolling his eyes at her playfulness, the white robed figure was just ready to prepare on throwing her an image of her first time trying to fly when a large echoing sound of metal hitting metal reverberated on the air. Once..twice it repeated itself making him sigh knowing that his time here dilly-dallying is now done. The massive dragon also seemed to sigh knowing that their times of peace and quiet is now done as she stood up heaving her quite large bulk from the ground where she is lying on her belly.
"Are you calling me fat?" despite his long years, he can't help but snort at the reproachful voice of his dragon. At times its getting hard to hide his thoughts from her with how open their minds are with one another.
"No, but you had to admit that you had certainly grown in...bulk Saphira," he pointed out as he gracefully mounted her, sitting bare-backed on the empty space between her spikes.
"But that's the definition of fat!" she protested making him laugh as she eased to the sky with great flaps of her wings. "That's it! Keep laughing oh so mighty Dragon Rider. Don't forget who's doing the flying," and just like that, she immediately plummeted to the ground in a daredevil action of flying acrobatics that would have made any sane dragon rider screaming their lungs out in fear.
Wearing a saddle, its very dangerous. However without a saddle, its plain suicide. For him though, he just laughed loudly as the dragon twirled and twisted into open air, her joy of having such freedom floating within his mind. Despite himself, he can't help but admit that if freedom does have something to compare it with. It can only be compared to a dragon's pleasure of flying unhindered through the skies.
Letting the joy of his partner in heart and mind fill him, he let his thoughts travel through the memory lane. It has been a century, a century ever since he took the decision to leave Alagaesia as the witch, Angela's prophecy said he would. Even without the prophecy, he knew deep inside his heart that he would had still made the same decision. The Queen of the Elves' actions of choosing not to leave with him at least taught him that. Duty always transcends personal comfort or issue.
It took them a long time, but in the end he and his companions found finally a home for the dragons and a place to raise the new Order of the Dragon Riders. Many songs already are sung about it; Aiedail, the envy of the land. In all aspects it almost looked like a carbon copy of Vroengard Island, the old home of the Dragon Riders before the Fall only it isn't filled with death, poison and darkness but life, hope and light. Its very name is a testament to how beautiful the sunrise is when you are at the island. Rising mountains with polar caps surround the island and lush forests dotted the land. Thankfully Snagli are also found here in abundance much to the delight of Saphira and the rest of the Dragons later. Snake bacon after all tasted good even in human standards.
He and the Elves who travelled with him of course at first are met with the problem of rebuilding. Most of them agreed that buildings like the trees on Ellesmera tha Elves preferred would not be an ideal design. Wood after all would not last against Dragon-fire or Dragon-scales rubbing on them every day. In the end it was Umaroth (the representative of the Eldunari) who suggested that they design the island's buildings with the same design as the old homes of the Dragon Riders.
The decision was met with agreement though the Elves had been a little sour at first, unhappy that their houses would be a combination of rock and grown wood. However they admit that logically speaking, it is a logical after all had another growth spurt and with her new size they would be hard at work singing a tree house big enough for her.
Thus the white towers and buildings of Vroengard rose like fingers inside the island. White marble shone like glass on the morning sun and for any new rider who would be newly sent from Alagaesia, the city would meet them either like the shining beacon as the people of Alagaesia describe it on their tales and legends or glimmering like stars at the night with the flameless lanterns that the buildings are filled with.
It had been long work, but with the help of the Eldunari, he managed to take the lion's share from the hands of the Elves and managed to finish the beauty and majesty of the Order's new home. The work that is supposed to take a century he managed to finish merely in three decades and monumentalized forevermore the home of their Order in a way that would have made the Dwarves jealous.
Once a bard sings it with such lyrics on a tavern:
"The world is young, the mountains tall
in Elder days after the Fall.
The sun shone bright on the well
the after days when Galbatorix fell.
Bells are heard on that place,
sounding strong and right.
The beacon of our daily ways,
a truly magnificent sight.
White its towers, white its walls.
Forever the horn of the morning calls.
The early star it shines in light,
standing tall, gleaming in white.
No words can describe such majesty
for it would only be a traversity.
Glory earned, and glory shown,
the home of the Riders that ever glown.
Songs met the standing day,
when dragons fly to meet their prey.
The city of five gates, and five fountains,
hidden far across the sea, beyond the mountains.
The world was young, the mountains tall,
glad is the song after the fall.
When Riders flew across the sky,
bringing back the Olden days when Order is lifted high.
The familiar roars of welcome brought the Lead Rider out of his musings as he passed the familiar carved white pillars of the Dragon gates, the sole entry to Aiedail and one which the dragons both wild and bonded insisted on designing on their own using their talons and claws.
Two gusts of wind made him look at his sides and smiled at the presence of Autorarch and Menarch, the wild dragon twins that served as the eternal guards of Aiedail's main door flying beside him, their grey scales shining on the morning light. Ever since the two had been big enough to fly, they had taken the responsibility of guarding the Dragon gates even without his' prompting.
Inclining their heads to him in respect, the two stayed for a few minutes flying beside his Saphira before angling to the sides as they turned to their posts back at the pillars. He can't help but imagine how far their Order have gone in the past Century and after even.
They had grown so much that even in the distance he could see the City of Light with its five gates and five walls. Small figures moved around out of the small houses and some from the towers with dragons trailing after them, greeting the morning that is now slowly rising from the mountains. Aiedail is no way small, and everyone had a wide space for themselves, both Dragon Riders and those who lived with them. Mostly family members like spouses and children of the Riders who had elected to stay on Aiedail with their loved ones. They're usually the ones in charge of the maintenance of the city while the Riders come and go to fulfill their duties at Alagaesia.
Until now the lead Rider can't believe how far they've gone. He himself had studied long and hard under the tutelage of the Eldunari and they have taught him many things. Wisdom they imparted and wisdom he received. In fact he knew that if not for them, he would be not who he is today. A proper replacement for Vrael, the former leader of their Order. Elf, he may not naturally be born, but elf-like his features are now with his white hair and tall slim structure. On his right hand sat strength while at his left lived wisdom. Everyone at Aiedail loved and respected him. Dragons and two-legs all the same. Even the wild dragons deferred to him.
Roars sounded all over the city like every morning, the only indication that the wild dragons living on the Encircling Mountains are now awake and like Aiedail and its inhabitants greeting the early morning.
He can't help but let off a little smirk though at the irony he suddenly found. At the human and dwarven cities and farms, they usually would have a rooster's crow to wake them at the morning's coming. However here at Aiedail, they have dragons' roars as proper substitutes.
His Saphira also joined the camphony of sounds as she let off her own roar on the air that echoed all over the hills. Despite himself he smiled at his dragon's enthusiastic attitude. The worry and brood that she had harbored long ago believing that she was the last of her kind all but gone now as she glittered like gemstones under the light of the morning star, her name giving justice to her color and beauty.
Bypassing the white walls of the city, it did not take long for the leader of the Riders to reach their destination, which is the wide opening at the middle of Aiedail where at least a large group have finally gathered laughing, talking and cooking the breakfast. Beside the large group of people are five dragons snoozing off while dozens of hatchlings run around trying to get at least the attention of at least one of the elderly. It is a tradition that he made at the island that people share their meals with one another at least once a day if they feel like it. Here at Aiedail, everyone is equal no matter what their race is. With his sharp hearing, he could hear an Urgal debating with a dwarf sculpture designs (which would not be possible before the Fall of Galbatorix), a human woman trying to explain to a lovestruck young male elf about the reason why humans eat meat. A dozen more conversations was registered by his ears each ranging from something petty to important ones discussed by the Elders of the Order present here at the moment. The citizens of Aiedail though are not only neighbors, but one big family. All conversation stopped though as they registered his and Saphira's coming.
With great gusts of wind, the Sapphire dragon gracefully landed on the clearing and everyone bowed in respect to the two of them. Even the dragons who had been snoozing despite all the chatter woke up and gave acknowledging nods to the leader of their Order.
The moment of formality though is broken when suddenly small blurs burst forth from the crowd in a color of silver and white that immediately attached to his legs with small screams of "Ebrithil!" or "Eragon-Elda!". As usual a small smile attached on his face as the four immediately yammered like small ducks to him as they bombarded him with questions in Elvish. The crowd seeing that their leader's attention has been pulled away slowly began to go back on talking to one another.
"Come now children. You must let your adopted father go and it is time for you to eat all your breakfast," the chiding voice of Blodhgarm spoke making the four elflings pout before their eyes registered Saphira who is just making herself comfortable making them squeal before they ran towards her in a cloud of dust and noise.
"Eragon-Elda," greeted Blodhgarm with a slight inclination of his head in respect making Eragon mock-scowl at his old friend.
"How many times must I tell you not to call me with titles Blodhgarm?" asked Eragon as the furry elf grinned showing his fangs as usual.
"As many times than I can remember Eragon-Elda,"
"How come you're watching over them?" asked Eragon looking at the four elflings trying to hang on like a swing while hanging on Saphira's spikes. "I thought it is Yaela's turn this morning?"
"She informed me that one of the plants in your garden had died and she needed to plant a new one," shrugged Blohdgarm making Eragon sigh, the urge to grip his head starting as usual at his oldest friend's actions. "She's with Laetri inside your tower Eragon,"
"I know," he nodded. "Thank you for informing me old friend. Please reserve a seat for three of us and do keep an eye out for those four troublemakers," said the lead rider sparing a glance at the four elflings whose lives he is charged of.
"Or four in their case," laughed the furry elf as he looked at the sight of the four trying to coax a bemused looking Saphira to breathe fire for them. "Don't worry Eragon-Elda, I will,"
Inclining his head at his one of oldest' companions. Eragon willed the magic around him to flash himself outside the tallest tower of Aiedail and the place he now called home. Following the familiar path, the intricate golden doors opened automatically as he approached, the magic in them recognizing his presence as he stepped inside.
The large garden inside shaped in a square formation greeted him and the familiar sound of his oldest friend's humming is registered by his ears alongside a smaller more tender hum that he also knew belonged to the one destined for him. Removing his leather made slippers from his feet, the leader of the Dragon Riders stepped inside his garden, following the sounds of music to its source bypassing the beautiful plants and flowers on its wake.
This garden contained many memories. He created this when his heart longed for Arya when they settled here before. It served as his outlet for the pain on leaving his homeland when his heart is young and before he perceived the wisdom and consequences of his decision. Once he lived on this tower and gardens alone. But now it housed seven of them other than his Saphira. The four half-elven children whose father died on the war with Galbatorix and mother died on childbirth for giving life to the four beautiful beings, Quadruplets the first of their kind after a long long time since the Fall. Finrod and Felagund, the two boys are named and two girls are Luthien and Tinuviel. They are brought here by one of his student Dwarven Riders since their people looked on them in disdain and some of the more religious humans believing them to be abominations. Since then Eragon had been their guardian and the ones responsible for their well-being. Even now the Elves sing of the four Elven children that the lead rider adopted.
Four children sat in a lake
where the sun lives and trees wake.
Laughter mingled through the ebbs of time,
question the Lead Rider's decision to claim such lost dime.
Finrod and Felgaund, brothers dear
gold is their crowns, fleeting as a deer.
Luthien and Tinuviel, silver-tongued beauties
slender as willows, tall as trees.
On his guidance, their joy is full,
on bright Aiedail where Order rule.
"Eragon," the gentle voice of his oldest friend brought Eragon out of his musings as he recognized the familiar face of Yaela standing there as beautiful as ever despite the dirt of the ground marring her smooth hands and a small smudge on the tip of her nose.
Like usual she is wearing a simple gown of white thin material that bared her shoulders and arms for all the world to see. Her blonde and silver hair shone under the artificial light of the garden. Like all elves she is beautiful, stunningly more in fact than most of her kin. Her figure is more elegant, more graceful and lush, thought not extravagant. Her skin is so smooth that one could see it so every time light reflected on her. In one word, she is utterly stunning. However what entranced Eragon the most was her eyes. Colored neon, it looked positively exotic.
Ever since he had left Alagaesia, she had been his companion other than cold furry Blodhgram. The taciturn elf might be a good advisor, but he sure as hell isn't good with words. Yaela thought, Yaela has been with him ever since they boarded the Talitha. She had witnessed his anguish on leaving his home, on leaving the woman he loved. She had sung for him, her beautiful voice soothing his troubled soul burdened by the mantle of duty being the new leader of an Ancient Order. She had held him when he started to despair after lack of success on searching a new home for months. Every time he needed to talk, she'd been present to listen, a constant companion for him to pour his fears and troubles at. When Aiedail was found and completed, it was Yaela who put up his confidence when he took the oath of Asuryan, the same oath that Vrael and his predecessors before him took when they took the mantle of being the leader of the Order. It was her who stood at his side every time he became insecure on his position, waiting patiently for him at his quarters to offer words of comfort or touch. It was her that healed him and sang to him every time he returned from his day full of teaching new Dragon Riders and training under the scrutiny of the Eldunari as they forged him to become a worthy successor of Vrael.
All in all Eragon didn't believe he would be where he is currently today if not for her.
There was a time when he didn't even notice her, being so infatuated with the Elven princess. He never noticed her beauty, her kindness and how much she care. In fact before they left Alagaesia, Eragon never held a conversation with her even once. It was her presence that made her forget the pain of leaving his old home and establishing a new one here. In simplified words, she is beautiful inside out and Eragon despite the wisdom and knowledge that made him composed as Vrael himself daily cursed his stupidity at missing such a kind soul being so blinded by his feelings to someone whom his feelings would never be returned.
But Yaela, she'd been there every step along the way for the past hundred years. She had been his servant and the one taking care of his tower alone as he did his duties. Even Saphira had taken a liking to her.
In the end, he grew to care for her. He loved her plain and simple. Loved every part of her, every nook and cranny that defined her. She is his best friend, and one whose beauty he would not see lost from the world. He didn't need to listen to Saphira's comment that she loved him. He knew that already. Her simple gestures of affection, her barely concealed blushes every time they would take a stroll on the moonlight exchanging stories, or her obvious nervousness that made her shy on his presence (in his opinion she looked positively cute when blushing pink and red).
"Yaela," Eragon greeted in response stepping towards her taking a moment to throw an amused glance at her hands covered in dirt. "You're missing breakfast, everybody's looking for you,"
"Begging your pardon Eragon, but I am quite busy here," reasoned Yaela fidgeting under his stare as usual. He is a head taller than her and it always amused him how he could look down on her shorter frame though Yaela is tall for an elf.
"And what could be more important to you than spending time with me?" asked Eragon good-naturedly letting his hands graze her own, the magic instantly under his command cleansing the impurity on her hands. Such beautiful and soft hands deserved nothing but the best. "You know I don't want to start the day without you at my side,"
She turned a delicate shade of pink as usual and the tips of her ears on her silver-blonde hair turned scarlet. It took all of his concentration not to laugh.
"Eragon, please a flower has died. I don't want this memory of your love pertaining our Queen be marred in some way," she spoke monotonely as she wont to be when talking about his previous interest for Arya. "I have to fix this,"
"You don't have to fix anything Yaela," spoke Eragon hiding his sigh. And there's her problem. Despite her beauty, despite her care, despite everything that is between them for the past century, she is afraid. Afraid of opening fully to him, afraid that her affections to him will be known and blatantly disregarded.
Eragon knew it was partially his fault. When he described Arya to her at the Talitha many years ago that it almost feel like a memory now. He described her too much like a goddess that a mortal would never reach. He did not know then that Yaela would take his words to heart, and now he is reaping the consequences as he dealt with the beautiful elf's insecurity. Oh how the shadow of the Elven Queen haunted him still despite her not being here anymore.
However it ends now. Every day its the same for him and her. She would be his closest friend, almost being present wherever he go. It's obvious though that she's doing her best to rein herself in and try not to show the feelings that she had for the Lead Rider though Eragon caught her open her mouth every now and then as if to say something extremely important before gaining a thoughtful look that transforms immediately to an insecure one and closing it. Everyone at Aiedail of course knew about her affections and Eragon no matter how much they love and respected him had been the butt end of jokes for a century. There was even a betting pool about when the two of them would pull their heads out of their asses and finally admit it to one another.
"I should," answered the elf silver-blonde haired elf stubbornly with a small pout that looked adorable on her. "What a pathetic excuse am I of a house-keeper and an elf not even able to manage a simple garden,"
Despite himself, Eragon just laughed openly making the shine of the light through the door shine a little brighter as his power and mood went in tune with his surroundings. Taking one of Yaela's hands causing the beautiful elf to turn three different shades of color in her thunderous blush, Eragon just gently caressed the silky smooth skin with his hands.
"This place is a memory for me Yaela. A monument for the love I once held for Arya. However that is all it will ever be, a monument," he took a glance at the now shriveled morning glory that Yaela failed to save despite her efforts letting off a small sigh. A century older and having the courage, wisdom and strength of lead rider and he is nervous as a young boy still in the presence of a beautiful female. "Come Yaela, let's go. You know I hate to start breakfast without you there at my side. Everything is just less beautiful without your face in my presence or your singing,"
The lead Rider of Aiedail had to bite his lip as the pretty elf looked like she is about to faint from his words. Her blush is so massive now that Eragon wondered how she could stand upright still.
"I..I...need to..go find...Laetri. I'll be..back...Eragon-elda," she bowed almost swaying on her legs as she leaned on the trees along the way calling in her musical voice Laetri's name.
Eragon just chuckled to himself. Yaela had never used honorifics on him for the past decade. It was always "Eragon", and it signifies how close they are with one another. To hear her use honorifics just confirmed her state of mind of confusion. He did not blame her of course. He has never been this forward on her ever.
"Eragon! You're back," another familiar voice sounded and Eragon nearly lost his footing as a blue blur tackled him with a hug, following the sound of a small pur. He only smiled as he caressed the beautiful shimmering locks of Laetri, the last person living on this tower with him, Yaela and the ones he is charged with.
Laetri is the daughter of Dellanir, the former Elven Queen before Evandar. Apparently after Dellanir disappeared when she went to the old Vroengard, she had taken her daughter with her. Laetri is found by the Creed members, another Order that safeguarded Alagaesia comprised of humans only, establishing themselves as allies of the new Order and had been Eragon's eyes and ears all over the land. They usually work in the dark and deal with the unsavory problems that would Ruin the Riders' reputations. For the past fifty years, they earned the Lead Rider's trust.
Laetri was found under the sewers of Belatona trapped within a block of ice that floated from the sea that stunted her growth. The elf in her teenage years have no recollection of her memory other than a failed experiment that caused an explosion before she blacked out. The Creed have entrusted her care with Eragon and the young elf ever since did not leave Aiedail preferring to live with Eragon and his adopted family rather than go back and rejoin a people she had forgotten. Ever since Laetri had adored Yaela and harbored deep fascination at Eragon. Her beauty is so great that despite her tender age the residents at Aiedail sing their praises to her.
Silver-blue haired Laetri, among immortals the dove
Queen among them in beauty, the glorious lady.
All the blessed in bright Aiedail revere such light on your face
Honored even as the Kingkiller, the Lead Rider.
"Laetri, you are helping Yaela right again yes?" asked the lead rider making the beauty who had buried her head on his chest nod happily as she began to rant then about the plants that Yaela and her had replaced. Eragon only looked at Yaela who had a content look on her face and something akin to fondness as she stared at the two of them. It surprised Eragon why she isn't supporting a jealous look ever since Laetri entered their lives.
For in one word that can be described, Laetri is beauty personified despite not coming to her maturity. Yaela might be a star on the night glimmering in the darkness, but Laetri, Laetri is the moon that gives light on the Earth. Her silver blue hair shone every time light bounced on it and her personality is a lot less like Laetri, only less reserved and more bubbly as expected of her teenage years. Her eyes are also the deepest blue unlike Laetri's grey ones which hid longing. In every aspect, if beauty had a name. It would be her. Yaela though never hated Laetri. In fact she cared fo her a lot and that puzzled the lead rider.
She is the only one after all other than him who knew the prophecy issue pertaining the future of Laetri that binds with his. Even Laetri doesn't know.
"Calm yourself Laetri," spoke Eragon raising a hand and immediately stopped the rant that the young elf is doing as she covered her mouth before her lips morphed into a huge grin as Yaela stood beside her placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. Unlike him and Yaela, Laetri is short though, still not able to reach her final growth spurt and her head reached only to his chest. "We're going to eat with the others. Are you two ready?"
At the two nods, Eragon just placed his hands on their arms before willing the magic to carry them to the rest of the inhabitants at the massive park who immediately greeted them. Laetri was immediately tackled by the Quadruplets though leaving Yaela and Eragon standing amusedly as the five rolled on the ground. Looking at his best friend smiling a soft smile on her face, Eragon gulped plucking his courage as he moved a strand of her hair away from her face. Before whispering nine words to her in the Ancient Language.
"You are more precious to me than you know Yaela," and throwing a blind eye at the surprised look and reddening face of his beautiful companion. The lead rider walked towards his dragon who looked amused and dare he say, proud for his leap of faith.
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AN: Hello. Hope ya like this chapter. This is my first Inheritance fic and my 3rd story on this .net. Im tired on reading Eragon X Arya. that's why I made this. Hoped ya like it. Forgive me if there's little mistakes on my grammar or spellings. Im using a tablet and this thing doesn't have an auto-check like Microsoft Word.
This story is different from other Inheritance fics I promise and not one where bad guys rise with super powers that would need Eragon to return. I hoped you guys will like it.
PS: Inspired by the Brightest Star.