A/N: This story, I imagine, would take place when the boys are in their early teens/mid-pre-teens. Ergo, Eragon would be about twelve or thirteen, while Roran would be fourteen or fifteen. That being said, this is an idea that's been spinning around in my head for two days or so now, and I figured I should give it a chance. As usual, all rights go to the author and his publishers. Enjoy, my dears.
Traveling to Therinsford was a rare occasion. It was perhaps a day or so away, depending on the weather, and the shopkeepers' wares tended to be more expensive, even if they were higher quality. Roran had tried in the past to explain the concept of varying qualities to his father more than once, but Garrow, had paid him little attention. "We have everything we need right here in the village. We don't need to travel all the way to Therinsford for no other reason than to satisfy your boredom. If you're that bored, Roran, perhaps you could try to keep up with your chores." (Roran often went silent at this, for Garrow had a point.)
Still, once and a great while there were things that they just didn't have in Carvahall, that Therinsford did. This included the occasional farm tool that Horst lacked a tool or the knowledge to make, or a cobbler for new shoes or a tailor for clothing. (The latter two items were only bought once a year, and often times Eragon simply got Roran's hand-me-downs, which were cheaper to have fixed than it would be to buy two sets brand new.)
Today was one of those rare occasions where a trip was necessary. Not only had Garrow run several holes into his old work boots, but they were taking what little surplus they had from the harvest (along with a few of the neighbors' harvests) to be sold at the mill for when the traders came through town. And so the little family had piled themselves into their cart and set off for Therinsford.
And now, seeing as Garrow would be bargaining for some time, Roran and Eragon had wondered off. There was little point in them standing around. Roran had been given a few coins for a snack or two, but neither boy was very interested in the food stands on the side of the road. Spotting a tavern, Roran tugged on Eragon's sleeve and pointed. "Come on," he said. "Let's see if there's anything worth spending our money on in there."
"It'll probably all be expensive," Eragon grumbled. "Or it'll be beer, and nobody sells beer to kids, Roran."
"Oh come on, what's your problem, eh? Not enough adventure for you in a little town like this?" Roran laughed, and Eragon rolled his eyes. As a child, Eragon had dreamed of a life of wild adventures and crazy schemes, and had dragged Roran through many a game of "Riders and Dragons" Now, however, Eragon was far too old for such silliness, and Roran took great pleasure in reminding him of a time when he wasn't.
"I'm just tired, is all," Eragon argued. "We've been traveling all day. I want to find some place to lay my head for the night before we have to go home tomorrow."
"Well, at the very least, there might be space in the barn out back for us. Or maybe they'll have an actual inn." Roran turned to face his cousin as he mounted the tavern's front steps and pushed open the door with his back.
Eragon allowed him a small smile, "Now wouldn't that be something..." he muttered dryly.
The tavern room was small and dark, with most of the smoke from the fireplace spilling out into the room instead of up the chimney. Behind him, Roran heard Eragon cough loudly. He resisted the urge to do so himself. The bar was on the right side of the room, the fireplace in the right-hand back corner. Multiple table littered the center of the room, and most were filled with townsfolk and local fur traders. The bartender was sitting on a stool behind the counter, counting coins as he dumped them, one at a time, into a lock box. The jingle of the money mixed with the chatter of the room, adding to the confusion.
The biggest difference between this tavern and every other one the boys had been to (well, they hadn't been to many, only Morn's, one on the other side of Therinsford, and this one) was the make-shift stage on the back wall, in-between the fireplace and a set of spiraling stairs. On the stage, a man was sitting a top a stool, strumming a lute and making up the words to his song as he went along. The tune was that of a familiar lullaby, but it was clear the man didn't know it. Roran snorted to himself at the sight. To Eragon he said, "Go find us a table, will you? I'll see about lunch." Eragon nodded and shuffled away.
The bartender stared at Roran blankly as he approached, unimpressed and entirely unhelpful. "What do you want?" he asked with a sigh, setting aside his money.
"Food," Roran stated as he settled onto a bar stool. "I have a few coins, what can it get me?" The man continued to stare at him. After a few moments, he sighed.
"You came in with a friend. I'll assume he wants something too?"
"Yes, if you don't mind. What are you making today?"
"Depends. How many coins do you have?"
Roran produced the small allowance Garrow had given him, and set it on the table. The bartender studied it for a second before sighing. "I'll have my girl bring you a couple of bowls of soup, but that's it. Understood?"
Roran smiled politely. Inwardly, he wanted to slap the man on the head. He was a farmer's boy, not an idiot, and he certainly didn't need attitude from the likes of this man. Outwardly, however, he slid the money over and stood up. "That'll be perfect. We'll be..." Roran paused, searching for Eragon in the room behind him. He found the boy sitting at a tiny table, head in the palm of his hand, eyes trained on the entertainment. "...there."
The bartender rolled his eyes. "I'm not blind, boy," he snapped as he raked Roran's money away. "Off with ya. Food'll be out in a few minutes." Roran nodded and once again resisted the urge to hit the man.
Roran made his way over to Eragon, dragging a chair from another table behind him as he went. Setting up the chair, Roran sat down beside his cousin. Eragon didn't acknowledge him. After a couple of seconds of silence, Roran followed the other boy's gaze.
In the time it had taken Roran to order their food, the man with the lute had disappeared from the stage, and had been replaced with a pretty girl in her mid-twenties. She was a busty girl, in a dress that highlighted every asset she had. Her hair, with was black, was pulled into a loose bun, with some falling out to frame her pretty, round face. Her cheeks were splattered with freckles, and her wrists had a couple of cheaply made bracelets dangling from them. Roran grinned. Eragon was transfixed, completely hypnotized by the singer. Roran poked his cousin.
"Like her, do you?" he teased as Eragon jumped and turned to him. The smaller boy blushed.
"What? I-I don't know what you're talking about.." he spluttered, looking anywhere but Roran's face.
"Really? Because I'm pretty sure you do. Most people don't go around fawning over women like that. Not unless they're interested. Are you interested, Eragon?" Roran joked through a grin. His cousin's face turned a brighter shade of pink.
"No!" he cried. "I-I just like her singing voice! That's all!" Eragon gestured helplessly. "It—it's a very nice singing voice!"
"Uh-huh. So you just like her voice? You didn't even notice that flattering little number she has on? Because I sure did. It doesn't seem to have a vert high collar, does it? How is she ever going to find a husband dressed like that?" Roran knew perfectly well that that was a performance outfit and that the singer likely had many suitors, but he simply wanted to see how Eragon would react. He wasn't disappointed.
"I'd say she'll find a husband just fine dressed like that. It suits her perfectly." Roran burst out laughing.
"So you were looking! Ha! I knew it!" Roran leaned back in his chair, clapping as he laughed. "That's brilliant!" Roran stopped suddenly as a thought popped into his mind. "Seriously though, you might not want to be so obvious with the staring. What if her father's in the room? Or her brother? You don't want to insult them—or her."
Eragon dropped his eyes to his lap and shrugged. "She's very attractive." he admitted quietly. "I don't mean to offend anyone."
"I'm not saying you are. Just be more...subtle with your...observations...You were quiet open about it."
Eragon was about to respond when a girl came bouncing to to the table, a tray in her hands. "Two orders for soup, yes?" she asked cheerfully, and Roran nodded.
"That would be us," he agreed. The girl smiled at him as she set the two bowls on the table. Lowering the tray to that it was in front of her, and bent down a little. '
"Isn't my sister wonderful?" she asked excitedly. She nodded toward the stage, where the girl had begun another, more upbeat melody. "It's her first day. What do you think? I'm asking everyone's opinions so she feels encouraged. She's very shy, you know." She added the last part in a conspiratorial whisper.
"Eragon here thinks she's great, don't you, cousin?" Roran said immediately. "We were just discussing how beautiful her voice is."
The waitress lit up at that, "Really?!" she cried. Eragon sunk in his chair. "Oh that's just fabulous! Wait 'til I tell her!" She's going to be absolutely delighted!" The waitress jumped slightly in her excitement, emitting a tiny squeal that attracted attention from the neighboring tables. She ignored it.
Eragon, for his part, was sitting very low in his chair, bright pink and playing with his food. Roran smirked at him. "You alright, there, Eragon? You look a little flushed." Eragon glowered at him and sank lower in his seat. The waitress watched the exchange for a second more, then straightened her apron and cleared her throat, gathering herself.
"I have to go," she said. She gestured to the the bar, where her boss was taking a chapter out of Eragon's book with the look he was giving her. Roran smiled and waved to her a little, and then she was off, bouncing away toward the kitchens.
The boys finished their meal in silence, what with Eragon still too mad at Roran to reply to a word he said. The soup was sub-par to say the least: it was watery, tasteless, and not worth the money Roran had spent. Still, he mused as he dumped his spoon into his empty bowl, it was better than nothing, which was what they would have had otherwise. He sat back and waited for Eragon to finish.
Roran didn't have to wait long. Soon, Eragon stood up rather abruptly, and began stalking toward the door. "Let's get out of here," he called to Roran, who didn't require any further invitation.
Outside, the streets of Therinsford were nearly empty, as the sun was beginning to set and people were finishing with their errands in town. The air was cold, and Eragon was shivering just minutes after they left the tavern. Roran hadn't realized how warm the building was until it was behind them, and they were alone outside. He put an arm around his cousin's shoulders in a silent peace offering as they walked toward Garrow's last known location. Eragon leaned into him, signing their peace treaty.
Garrow had found a much better inn on the other side of the town. (This one Roran and Eragon had been to before, and the familiarity of it was a welcome change in exchange for the cold glare of the other bartender.) He didn't ask them about their day when they found him; he simply herded them toward the inn, grumbling about the cold. Roran was okay with this, as exhaustion was hitting him as his food settled, and all he wanted was the bed Eragon had talked about earlier.
He didn't get a bed. There was only one room, and Garrow claimed the bed while he and Eragon were forced to share the carpet in front of the fire. Still, the fire was warm, and Eragon didn't snore too badly, so Roran didn't care as much as he might have. He was just glad that Garrow had finished his errands so they could go home tomorrow. He had a bed there, and with that thought in mind, Roran drifted off to sleep.
They entered Carvahall the next morning in high spirits, chatting and laughing amoungst the three of them as their horse trudged slowly up the village's main road. Several villagers called out to them, and Roran and Eragon waved eagerly at each of them with friendly smiles. As they grew closer to home, they passed the old storyteller, Brom.
"Afternoon, Garrow. Boys. Headed home, are you?" he asked as they passed.
"Yes sir, we got just about everything! Right, Father?" Roran turned to his father, who merely grunted in response. Brom raised an eyebrow.
"I trust you lads didn't get into too much trouble in Therinsford?" the old man asked, taking a drag from his pipe. Roran grinned wider and glanced at Eragon. Reading his cousin's face, Eragon turned a bright shade of pink.
"Well..." Roran said teasingly. "Eragon did see a rather pretty singer at the tavern we ate at. Didn't you, Eragon?" The boy slumped in the cart and avoided eye-contact with Roran. Brom simply raised his eyebrow higher.
A/N:I honestly couldn't resist adding that last scene. It amused me too much.