Anew
Prologue
A massive column of dwarves stood in trampled rectangle of hard packed dirt outside the city mountain of Tronjheim. It was the middle of spring, so the air was pleasantly cool. The air was full of the smell of limestone and dirt. The dwarf king Orik stood in front of a pedestal made of blood red jasper. Upon the pedestal sat a beautifully carved wooden box with a large latch on its front. The box seemed to let off a slight white glow.
In a gravelly, magically enhanced voice, Orik intoned, "Welcome, all of you. You all know why you have been called here today. It is time for one of you to accept a fate that has been coveted by thousands for eons. I thank the stars that my own luck is worse than yours."
He chuckled, and pulled a small silver key and unlocked the latch with an almost imperceptible click. He opened the box and pulled out a large white dragon egg, nearly two feet long, and held it while two of his attendants removed the box. He then set it on a pillow on top of the pedestal. The dwarves in the waiting column fidgeted, and their demeanor became one of slight trepidation.
"Now all of you hurry up and for a line so that we may begin." The waiting dwarves formed a massive line, perfectly straight.
At Orik's command the first dwarf began to move hesitantly toward the egg. He touched the egg and seemed relieved when it did nothing.
This process continued for awhile until it seemed that no one would be able to make the egg hatch.
Then, a young dwarf, Daeron, who looked like he would be sick with nerves, approached the egg.
He hesitantly placed a hand upon the egg, and a thin, dark crack appeared on the surface.
The assembled dwarves formed a fifty foot circle around him, and waited, the egg wobbling and spinning.
Just the, the egg stopped. A long thin crack appeared on the surface, and a segment of the egg jutted out.
Daeron held out his arms in astonishment as an onyx black dragon toppled out.
The assembled dwarves knelt then, even Orik, who then intoned, "All hail, Daeron, first rider of the dwarves!"
***
A band of twenty urgals, five of them Kull, stood on the steep slope of Utgard. A lone human stood in front of them, with a carved wooden chest held under the crook of his arm. The air was frigid, but the hairy Urgals stood without any garments other than knotted loincloths. The crumbling turrets of the Edoc'sil stood high above them above them. A storm was brewing to the east, it's thunderheads glowing golden in the late evening sun.
"Let us begin, Stronghammer.", a young Kull said.
Roran remembered that his name was Yarbog, whom he remembered wrestling in the Surda. At around seven and a half feet tall, he was considered short among his people, although he dwarfed most humans. "Yes, we will begin soon. Just as soon as Nar Garzhvog arrives.", Roran said in an impatient voice.
At that moment, a slight tremble ran through the earth.
"And here he comes now." It was another ten minutes before the group saw Nar Garzhvog come out above the treeline.
"Why have you not began, Stronghammer?" Garzhvog said, mashing the words in his mouth.
"We were waiting for you, of course."
With that, Roran set the box on the ground and pulled out a small silver key from around a chain on his neck. He then proceeded to unlock the box. Nar Garzhvog stooped down and opened the casket.
Inside was an egg the color of the noonday sun, which sparkled and glittered in the light of the fading sun.
Most of the Urgal's looked as if they were going to be sick. Some of them shuffled their feet while others turned away outright.
"Quit your sniveling!" barked Roran to the cowering Urgals.
Just then, a young Kull came up to Roran and looked him straight in the eyes.
"I would like to be the first to go"
The unexpected volunteer stood facing the egg, no sign of fear or trepidation in his eyes.
"And who might you be?" asked Roran, who couldn't help feeling small under the Urgal's long shadow.
"My name is Ul'ron"
"Well then, RUl'ron, just slap a hand on this egg and see what happens."
He did just that, and Rorans arm caved under the enormous force of the blow.
The egg tumbled to the ground, and something that looked like a crumbled umbrella toppled out.
The congregation was speechless, for on the ground by Ul'ron's feet, was a snow white dragon.
Founding
It had been nearly 2 months since Eragon and his band of elves, along with the Eldunari, the eggs, and Saphira, had set out from Hedarth, the dwarvish trading outpost, into the unbroken plain. They had passed the same expanse of green for a long time, and Eragon was beginning to feel bored. He and Saphira had flown every day to see if they could find a suitable place to settle and reform the Riders. So far, they had no such luck.
Shadeslayer!
Eragon jolted up from bed as the mental shout roused him from his waking dreams.
Yes? Eragon thought with a hint of annoyance.
We have spotted something on the eastern horizon that I think you should see. The speaker was Blödgharm.
Eragon rose gracefully from his bed and ran outside, then took the spyglass from Blödgharm's outstretched hand. The elf never took his eyes off of the gigantic mass of land that loomed before them, shrouded in mist.
"We would have contacted you earlier, Argetlam, but the mist is enchanted and none of our spells were able to pierce it," Blöhdgarm purred to Eragon.
As fear surged through Eragon, a giant swarm of shapes detached itself from the mountainside, and began to fly towards the Talita.
Saphira contacted him, and with a hint of alarm in her voice said "Eragon! I cannot sense them with my mind!"
Eragon pointed the shapes out to Blödgharm, and the blue elf turned to them, his eyes unfocusing. His face became strained, and then his eyes snapped open and he gasped.
"They are dragons!" He said both with his mind and his tongue.