Elysium

Elysium was the dwelling area of happy souls after death as concieved by the ancient Greeks and Romans. This paradise was imagined as either a concrete region or a state of existance.

Book One:

Enchantment

en-chant'-ment, v., – bewitch; beguile; charm

Chapter 1:

Back To Carvahall

"Nowhere, nowhere to be found,

Searching for it everywhere.

It's absence leaves me astound.

I wish I could get it back.

Not there in the tree house, not here in my room,

The playground hasn't seen it for days.

It will all be over, my happiness and bloom.

I wish I could get it back.

The flexibilities of life; gone forever.

If the lever of my burden doesn't return,

The fun, the joy gone forever.

I wish I could get it back.

For people's affection, it was a key.

It made me the center of attention.

All these favors lost, you see?

I wish I could get it back.

It's going, it's going. Oh, please! Oh, please!

Can anyone stop it from leaving me?

And then for a moment I cease and see.

It's gone, it's gone. My childhood is gone."

-- "It's Gone", Anonymous

Eragon started over the hill and gasped at what he saw. His former home, his former life. It was shattered, a shadow of what it used to be. The houses were burnt, and everything was grey and lifeless. He stared out over it with sadness in his eyes.

Saphira padded up beside him and glanced at his somber expression. Then she, too, looked out over the fallen town. This was Galbatorix's work.

Aye, responded Eragon, I only wish he were still alive, that I may exact my revenge once again. I have no home now. There was sadness and anger in his voice; it was clear he wanted more revenge. But now that the corrupt King Galbatorix was dead, his cousin, Roran and his wife Katrina, safe, and his older brother, Murtagh, reformed once again, the bonds of Galbatorix's evil free from his mind, now that they were together... Who was there to enact revenge on?

Murtagh and Thorn, his own dragon, slowly approached him, nodded, then looked out over the destruction. "This was your home," Murtagh stated.

"Was... Now it's only a memory on the wind..." Eragon replied, not looking at him. Arya, the elf, Orik, the dwarf, and Roran and Katrina followed. Together, they stood upon the hill and gazed over what once was Carvahall.

Katrina sighed, crossing her arms, and leaning her head on Roran's shoulder. "It's been a long time since I've been here," she stated. Roran snaked his arms around her slim waist and pulled her into the safety of his chest. He sighed and buried his face in her hair.

"Roran," Eragon began, "What had become of the farm after I left?" He'd nearly forgotten about his old farm, where he, Roran, and his uncle Garrow, had lived. He remembered hunting in the Spine, the dangerous mountains that lay to the west of Carvahall and Therinsford, and to the east of Narda, Teirm, and Kuasta. However, the Spine and it's main peak, Utgard, were dwarfed by the Beor Mountain Range.

The Beor Mountains were the home of the dwarves, and their great cities; Tarnag, Buragh, Galfni, Dalgon, Orthfad, and the city of Tronjheim inside of the great mountain Farthen Dur. Tronjheim once was the home of the Varden, the rebels who were against Galbatorix, but after the great battle with the Shade, Durza, the Varden had to move west to seek refuge in Surda.

To the north of the Beor Mountains was the Hadarac Desert, a harsh climate that stretched for miles. Far to the east was the city of Dras Leona. On the outskirts was the mountain Helgrind, and the burial site of the former Dragon Rider, Brom, who was Eragon's mentor, and the creator of the Varden. To the north of the Hadarac was Du Weldenvarden, the great forest, home of the elves and their capital, Ellesmera, and other great elfin cities.

"The farm..." Roran said, almost reverently, as he acknowledged his former home. He snapped out of his reverie and led the troop through the abandoned town. "When I left, the farm was still growing grass, and it may also be harboring weeds. I was planning to marry Katrina and live there and provide for her there, but due to the unfortunate events that followed your disappearance..." And he left it at that. Eragon knew perfectly well what had transpired while he was away.

Thorn and Saphira swerved and looped through the air, riding the air currents high above their heads. The breeze was very good, gentle and warm. After all, it was the middle of summer, why shouldn't it be warm? The warm sun glittered and sparkled on the two dragon's scales, casting red and blue along the clouds. The lights danced around them as they dove in and out of the white puffs, becoming drenched in the water vapor, and roaring with excitement.

Now that Galbatorix's rule was over, and the new King was appointed, there was no one who opposed them, and they were free to do as they wished. It was relaxing to know there were no more enemies, but Eragon still tensed when he heard something near. Nowadays his palm rarely tingled a warning, so everything was safe.

That was how it should be.

Roran and the others made their way through Carvahall and to what once was the farm Eragon and Roran had spent their lives on. The house and barn were gone, but moss covered the foundation stones and grass grew through what was left of the gardens. At one time, it was beautiful. But now...

Eragon stared sullenly at the clearing. Small white flowers grew this way and that, as did wild strawberries and other weeds and plants. This was his home. And it was gone.

At least it looks better than when the Ra'zac first destroyed it, he observed. Rage filled him at the memory. That was when Garrow died...

A small stone was in front of where the house used to be. Ingrained into the ground before it was a stone tablet. Eragon knelt before it and read:

Here lies Garrow

A respectable farmer

And honorable father and uncle

May he find peace in the next life

Eragon said a blessing in respect to his late uncle, and got up. Roran and Katrina paid their respects to the deceased farmer as well, while Murtagh, Thorn, Saphira, Arya, and Orik bowed their heads in respect.

After a moment of respectful passed, Roran coughed and said, "Come. This place brings bad memories, we should leave before it gets dark." Eragon nodded, and everyone made their leave.

As they began to walk back, Murtagh clasped Eragon on the arm and looked into his brother's eyes. Eragon saw deep respect and sympathy in Murtagh's brown depths. He let a smile pass his lips. "Everything will look up, brother," Murtagh said. Eragon nodded.

"Garrow wouldn't have wanted us to linger and grieve. He was always telling Roran and I to never let the casualties in life get us down, and to keep moving on, and be strong."

"Garrow was wise," Murtagh said, "I only wish I'd known him before he died."

A moment passed.

"Do you think Garrow would have wanted to meet me?" Murtagh asked.

"He would have been proud to have you as a nephew," Eragon replied, smiling. Murtagh smiled as well, but stayed silent for the rest of the trip.

They soon made their way to the Anora River, and continued along it's great length, heading towards Therinsford. But before they reached the bend, they turned south, towards Yazuac and the Ninor River. When it began to get dark, they made camp, halfway to Yazuac. It was straining to walk, seeing as they had no horses, and the dragons could not hold all of them.

Eragon sat next to Orik in front of the campfire while Roran helped Murtagh make dinner.

"You are considered a hero to our people, Argetlam," Orik said.

"As are you," Eragon commented, "You not only accompanied a Rider to Ellesmera, but you stood before Queen Izlanzadi, something that a dwarf has not accomplished for many years. The two races have mostly kept to opposite ends of Alagaesia, correct?"

"Aye, we have for many years," Orik replied, gruffly. "I will truly miss you, Eragon Shadeslayer. But while you accompany me back to Tronjheim, you and Saphira must keep your end of the bargain."

"Bargain?" Eragon questioned. So many things had happened after their departure from Tronjheim, that he'd forgotten many of what lay in the past.

Do you not remember, little one? With my magic, we promised to restore Isidar Mithrim to it's former state. The dwarves will be proud and grateful in we can fulfill that promise, Saphira's voice rang in his head.

"Ah! That's right! Isidar Mithrim is still in disrepair!" Eragon exclaimed aloud.

"I have recieved word from Tronjheim that they have gathered all the pieces are they are put into place. Isidar Mithrim awaits your assistance, Saphira Bjartskular," the dwarf said to Saphira, using the nickname they had given her; Brightscales.

Please tell him that I am prepared to return the Star Sapphire to it's full glory. And tell him that it is my honor to assist for the good of the dwarves and that if they are pleased, I am content.

Eragon relayed the message, to which Orik gave a hearty laugh. "Ah, ah, yes. That is good. And we are honored to have your assistance. It is greatly appreciated."

Saphira padded up behind Eragon and settled behind him. She bent her head down to stare the dwarf in the eye, which surprised him enough to make him stumble backwards. Saphira laughed, the gravely laugh that Eragon had heard her do when she mocked his naivete. He smiled at the memories of their first weeks together, and how she'd grown to the large span she now was.

After eating their meal, Eragon and Murtagh sparred to keep up their swordsmanship, but when Murtagh backed down and Arya jumped in, Eragon found the magically-dulled edge of Arya's sword at his throat quickly. She laughed and helped him up. Murtagh and Eragon talked late into the night, until the others began to tire. Sleep soon found Murtagh, and Eragon found himself drifting off, laying against Saphira's hard, yet warm, underside. She stretched a wing over Eragon's sleeping form, and her mind touched his for the last time that night.

Good night, little one.