Hello all! I'm sure you missed me. . Not really. Well, on it's first day, Falling Water got fifty hits! ;O GASP! Anyway, I'm glad there are some Eragon fans out there. X3 I know I love the book, and very much adore my fanfiction as it comes out. I do promise you. There will be yaoi, and you'll see a lot of the bathing room in this story. I'm just introducing you to the main setting. ;D
Discalimer: I do not own the characters...blah blah. If I did...they're be something like this in it. X3 The story/plot, however in this story, is mine. No stealy! D Kidding. No, really. Stealing is bad for your soul. ;
Anywho, on with the story.
REVIEW, PLEASE! REVIEW FOR MY NON-EXISTANT SOUL'S SAKE!
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1The young Rider stared into the marble for a long time. His shimmering eyes danced along the rock, searching for something, anything, to help him. The dim light of the bath house caused a low emptiness to win him over. Bending to his knees, he rested his forehead on the cool stone, hugging his torso with his arms, as if to keep himself together.
"Uncle..." His words were small, feeble. He felt so weak. He didn't understand anything anymore. It was all coming so fast. This sudden rush of emotions echoed through him and he choked a sob. "Brom..." He'd lost everything he knew. He'd left everything he even barely begun to know at Farthen Dur. What was coming to him? Angela said they were all doomed. Doomed of what? Was he to fail? Oh, if he was to fail! Another pang ripped through him and he let out a cry, his back searing. He held his torso, nearly biting through his lip to keep from another sob, though tears already stained his boyish face. "Please...something, anything...something to help hold me together."
He sat there. Saphira must and drifted to sleep by now. He couldn't hear her touch his mind. He slumped to the floor, his back searing, his mind aching. He curled himself into a tight ball, trying to shield himself from the world.
How could someone so young be held under such a large stone? He could barely bare it. He did his best to act as well as he could. He held his head high, did as he was told. He fought hard and learned quick. But, at night, he lay awake, these horrible thoughts engulfing him. His night terrors were becoming horrible. He watched Saphira killed, he sees Arya die, he relives walking to his home and finding his uncle Garrow, dead and gone! He relived Brom dying again. Good lord, how was he to bare this?
Saphira's words tumbled in his head. For some reason they did not comfort him. Of course she believed in him. She was his dragon. They both believed in each other, even if the odds are slim to none. This caused even more uncomfort and he clawed as his back, arching and thusly hitting his head rather roughly on the marble table.
He paused in his thoughts at this point. His head was reeling and now hurt, his back was fading from pain. He just laid there, sprawled and shivering with sobs until he closed his eyes.
It wasn't long until the sound of running water entered his skull again. It touched his mind, washing over the horrid thoughts and cleaned them into diamond silence. His sobbing began to fade, and soon he lay motionless except for his heavy, deep breaths. Eragon listened closely to the silence of anything but the water. The cool liquid was loud and soft, harsh and elegant in his ear. He even heard himself yawn ever so slightly.
Eragon soon was deep in sleep, laying against the cool marble table.
–W–
Eragon.
He stirred, groaning and opening his eyes. It was dark. Warm glowed and shadows chased each others above him. His dazed, sleep-covered eyes stared into white marble. It took him a moment to recall where he was.
Eragon.
He pushed himself up onto his elbow, running a hand over his face and yawned. His body ached, and he knew exactly why. He'd bloody fallen asleep on tile flooring.
Eragon, are you alright?
He smiled lightly to himself, sitting up and tucking his legs beneath him and pressing to sit on his knees, still staring at the marble. 'Yes, Saphira, I'm fine.'
Little one, you have been silent in there. You have been bathing for over an hour. I have been calling you for half that time, what were you doing? I woke when you had your fire attack to your scar and called to you. You did not answer. I had become worried.
'No, no I'm sorry, Saphira.' He grasped the edge of the table and stood, stretching and popping his back. 'I had a slight lapse, and was soon asleep on the floor. No, I did not fall.' Eragon smiled, relief was over him, having cut the beast off mid sentence. 'I have yet, however, to take my bath.'
Eragon, you'll miss your meal.
'That's fine with me.' He slipped from his sleeping trousers and folded them, setting them on the table as well. 'I have no appetite at all.'
Slinging a towel from a hook near the table over his shoulder, he walked over to the edge of the sand-bottom hot-spring bath and looked down. He laid the towel over one of the many rocks which, in his descending into the luke-warm water, he found real. 'Were then any who wished to enter the bathing pool?'
'None but a young man.'
Eragon closed his eyes, slipping father down until his head was all that was breaking the surface, his arms tossed around two rocks to keep him up. The Rider sighed, feeling his aching muscles relax, and crossed his ankles. 'A young man?' He looked up at the waterfall, only briefly wondering from where the water fell, exactly. 'Someone other than I has an odd bathing schedule?' He gained silence in that aspect before he sighed. 'No, I suppose not. Did he tell you what he was here for before running off screaming and/or on fire?'
He said he was needing to tell you something, from the council, that is. She paused in her thoughts, and he thought he hear her nails click against the door as if drumming fingers on a desk. And he wasn't on /fire/ when he ran of...
Eragon laughed, and then let it sink in. 'Why did you not let him enter?' He paused, waiting.
I had been calling you, Eragon, for nearly forty minutes. I got no reply, and thus I was nervous. I would not let any enter, and would watch people as they passed by.
He sighed, dipping his head below the surface, then brought himself back up. 'Alright then. Thank you, Saphira.'
Resting his head back on the rock, he looked up at the arched, marble mosaic ceiling of the bathing room. It was gorgeous. He then, out of curiosity, turned to look at the door. 'Did he tell you his name?'
Yes. She paused. Erron.
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