Chapter 2

Eragon sighed as he leaned back from his desk, the mountain of papers presenting a daunting task. One he did not look forward to tackling.

"Oh, if only you two-legs could look at something and wish it done, what a lazy world this would be. Now stop gripping and be done with it, little one, for I wish to go flying with my partner-of-mind-and-heart," Saphira scolded him.

"It wouldn't be all that bad," Eragon thought at her. "We'd be able to go flying together more often for one thing. Though I suppose in the long run, it would do more harm than good. You are right once more, my beautiful dragon."

Saphira snorted from her cushion at the other end of Eragon's office. The office was large, much larger than he would have preferred, but Saphira pointed out that a big office meant that she could keep him company whenever she wished. And so Eragon had conceded to her, as he was wont to do in most issues.

He had decided to take full advantage of the space though, and had one wall lined with shelves for the, now numerous, books and scrolls that ranged in every category from books on farming and woodworking, to ancient scrolls of magic and gramarye. Over the last three hundred years, Eragon had managed to read nearly every one. Though the last century had seen a shortening of his free time as he was caught up more and more in the affairs of the Riders he has begun to rebuild so long ago. His mind drifted back countless years to when he first began the daunting task…

***Flashback***

The rocking of the ship, which had been a comfort during the voyage so far, was not helping Eragon sleep. He was thinking about Her. This was by no means an uncommon occurrence, but tonight was especially hard. Tonight was the night of the third anniversary of when Eragon had met her.

He would never see her again. Even when he had hinted at the possibility of a reunion in the distant future while saying goodbye, he had not believed it. And doubted she had either.

Saphira curled her tail around him tighter, but he refused to be comforted. He was never going to see her again. Never see watch her emerald eyes sparkle mischievously, or hear her laugh make the birds sing. Never watch as she moved gracefully around the sparring grounds, stalking him like a panther.

Eragon was roused from his misery by a shout from one of his elven guards. Climbing out from Saphira's embrace, he made his way up to the bow of the ship.

"What is it Yaela?"

"Shadeslayer, Laufin has spotted land in the distance. Though we are still several hundred leagues away. We should reach it by midafternoon tomorrow," She replied.

He nodded and went back to Saphira.

"I will scout ahead tomorrow morning to see if it is safe to land," Saphira told him.

Eragon sent her a mental nod.

"And you will come with me. I'm getting tired of you moping around. This will help take your mind off of things."

"Perhaps you are right," he said. "Perhaps it will do me some good. This voyage has taken up the better part of six months and I am sick of the ocean."

Saphira looked into his eyes with her great sapphire ones. "I hope so, little one. This voyages has been hard on us for a number of reasons. The sooner we land, the soon we can begin to build our new homes and distract our minds."

Eragon agreed with her.

"It is settled then, tomorrow we shall get the first glimpse of our new home."

And with that, both dragon and rider slept peacefully for the first time in many long months…

***End Flashback***

They had found this new land to be brimming with life. Both in plants and animals, some of which were familiar, but many more who were not.

And so the construction had begun. What started with simple huts and eventually began to form into the makings of a grand city. With towering spires that seemed to touch the clouds and a beautiful forest the elves sang into being. For though they had forsaken their home, they could not escape their natural love of the trees and the shade of the forest.

The first of the riders, strangely enough, did not arrive from Alagaesia, but was among their own. Yaela, one of the elves who had fought by Eragon's side and protected him in the campaign against Galbatorix, became a rider three years after they first landed in, what Eragon and Saphira named, Eldurna; a tribute to the Eldunari and all they had sacrifice and suffered for at the Mad King's hand.

The elves were ecstatic. They danced around the newest rider and her fledgling dragon, who she named Kazurn. He was a slightly darker shade than Glaedr had been. Eragon was a bit hesitant in begin her training, for she was already a formidable warrior and spell caster. But she surprised him with her willingness to learn and be instructed by someone vastly younger than herself.

"You may be young, Eragon-elda, but you are the one who slew the Mad King and you are the one who will bring the riders to their glory again," she had told him. "You may be younger than I am, but you have already proven yourself, ebrithil"

Her use of the term "ebrithil" had embarrassed him though.

"Why should it? You, of all people here, deserve it. For without you, there would be no riders, little one," Saphira declared.

"I suppose you are right, but it just feels strange," Eragon replied. "I'm just not used to it, I suppose."

"You will become used to it in time, little one." The dragon stated.

Then Eragon felt another mind, one full of wisdom and sorrow, touch his own.

"Do not doubt yourself, Eragon-finiarel. You will grow into it in time, as your dragon has so wisely informed you. Until then you will have us, the Eldunari to guide you when you are at a loss."

"Thank you, Glaedr-elda, those words mean much to me. I have a feeling I shall be relying on you quite a bit in the years to come," Eragon replied.

The first of the riders arrived a decade after Eragon's little party had landed. By that time the city, dubbed Shur'tugal Du Lif, or Life of the Riders, was large enough to accommodate twenty riders and their dragons as well as several dozen others. For with the new riders came others wishing to make a new life, as well as the families of the riders in some cases.

The city was much larger now, with nearly two hundred riders and their dragons living among roughly three thousand citizens. Not to mention the wild dragons, who made the northern mountains their home.

Eragon did not know their exact number, for they kept that knowledge to themselves, but he estimated there were somewhere around five to six hundred wild dragons flying free in the skies.

Many changes had taken place over the course of the last few centuries, but perhaps the most surprising change to Eragon were the ones he himself experienced.

When he had left Alagaesia, he was but a boy of seventeen. True he was the boy who had slain Galbatorix and ushered in a new age, but he had still been a boy.

Now, three centuries later, he stood several inches taller at roughly six feet. His voice had deepened, his chest filled out, and his shoulders and widened a few more inches. He'd never be as large and powerfully built as his cousin, Roran, but he was no longer the wiry lad he had been.

His ears were more defined, closer to that of an elf's. His face too, had become more angular, though he would always be more rugged than the elves, due to his human side. He had decided to forgo a clean-shaven appearance and let his beard grow, though he kept it trimmed close to his face. His light brown hair had darken and was now streaked with silver. He had seriously contemplated using magic to color his hair, but Saphira said it made him look regal. And so he had decided to take her advice and keep it.

Perhaps the most noticeable change though was his eyes. No longer were they the warm brown he had had growing up, but blue; the same piercing blue as his dragon's. The Eldunari were at a loss for this. Never had they heard of a rider's eyes changing to match his dragons without magic consciously being used.

"The only explanation we have for you, Shadeslayer, is that the bond between you and Brightscales is unusually strong. No other reason can we think of to explain this phenomenon. You and your dragon truly are one-of-a-kind," Umaroth had told them.

Naturally this had pleased Saphira to no end. She had declared that this was only the beginning and that he would eventually become a dragon like herself. No amount of arguing with her could sway her opinion, so Eragon had dropped the subject.

"She'll know in a few hundred years when I haven't grown a tail, fangs, or gained the ability to shoot flames from my mouth that I was right all along," He grumbled.