A/N: I DO NOT OWN INHERITANCE CYCLE OR HOW TO TRAIN YOUR DRAGON. NEVER DID, NEVER WILL.

Thank you, M4tth3w, MMM, Noctus Fury, and 'Guest', for reviewing this story, I'll try not to disappoint you. I'll try to answer your questions:

MMM: the egg will hatch soon

Noctus Fury: Heather's relations will remain a Mystery, but I will say that it will be shocking. Hiccup and Eragon are 15 I'm going by the book on that one. Hiccup and Eragon are friends, and friends have nicknames for each other that irritate the other, for instance Eragon calling Haldor 'Hiccup', he's just teasing. Haldor calls Eragon 'Pig-head' in the sense that Eragon doesn't always think things through, as seen in the book. Just friendly nicknames. I've changed the purple to blue, because I also felt that it would make more sense in the long run, then going from purple to blue. Haldor will make his own armor similar to Httyd2.

Guest: Heather is not related to Brom or Murtagh, Heh-heh. You'll see.

Like Hiccup, I have the attention span of a sparrow, and I lose interest in things relatively quick. I'll try not to do that with this story or my other stories Enjoy!

Haldor woke up to the blistering cold of wind as he shivered in his bed. Rubbing his eyes, he sat up on the edge of the bed. The wood floor was cold under his feet. He slowly got up and stretched, breathing in the brisk air, stinging his nostrils. He scratched himself and yawned, looked around his room specifically towards his closet.

Beside his bed, there was a desk and a row of shelves, containing papers and small models of inventions he came up with over the years. One of his favorite possessions, were two black leather books on the center of his desk. One for his drawings, the other used for jotting down information. The rest of the room was bare, except for a dresser and nightstand.

He undressed from his pajamas and pulled out his red wool tunic and his deerskin vest from his closet. He couldn't help but stare at it, knowing the contents it held, how is it he never knew it was there? Did his mother know about it, or was his father the only one?

He went to the nightstand where he used a very wet rag and wiped himself, when he finished he dried himself and put on his clothes. He pulled out a pair of boots from under his bed and put them on before he headed to the door. As he was about to leave he paused and looked towards the closet. It held many questions and secrets, he went over and dug into the closet, pulling out the egg, it was still intact, despite his father saying that it was an egg it still felt light and hollow, but he could feel…something within. Haldor pushed his thoughts away and put the egg back in the closet.

He walked downstairs to the kitchen, catching the smell of breakfast cooking. He walked in and saw his mother slaving over the stove. Usually she'd call him to help like she always did, but today was…different. Albriech and Baldor were already at the table, waiting.

"Morning everyone" he greeted, everyone looked up with faint smiles.

"Good morning Hal, did you sleep well?" Elain asked.

"Yes I did. Why didn't you wake me to help with breakfast, mom?" Haldor asked. Elain stood quietly for a moment before she answered.

"I decided to let you rest a bit." She said not looking at him.

"Well I'm rested now, let me set the table." Elain was about to protest but the smile on Haldor's face warmed her heart.

"Alright." Elain said.

Haldor went to the cupboard and got out the plates, forks and spoons. As he set the table his brothers looked at him oddly as if something were on his face. Noticing this Haldor spoke up.

"What? What're you staring at me for?"

"He didn't hit you?" Baldor asked.

"What?"

"Dad didn't hit you?"

"What? No."

"Then what happened last night? Dad was furious with you, we were sure he'd flog you. He wouldn't say anything, not even to mom." Albriech interjected.

Haldor was shocked as well as nervous. His suspicions were confirmed, his father was the only one that knew about the egg, sword and saddle, but why not tell everyone else? They're family.

"We talked, that all. He was mad at me about something and we talked it out."

"What was he mad about?" Baldor asked. Haldor froze he hadn't thought that far a head, his brothers looked at him, their eyes bored into him.

"I-I"

Suddenly there was a booming of footsteps coming towards the kitchen. Horst walked in yawning deeply. He looked at everyone in the room and smiled.

"Good morning family." He boomed cheerfully.

"Good morning." They said. Horst walked over behind Elain and hugged her, giving her a kiss on the cheek. Elain giggled softly as Horst's beard tickled her neck. Horst then tried to take some bacon from the plate on the counter, but Elain quickly smacked his hand, making him recoil with a smirk on his face.

"You have to wait until I'm finished dear." Elain scolded. Horst rolled his eyes and went to sit down. He ruffled his sons' heads as he passed to take a seat.

He took a drink of milk from his big tankard and sighed content.

"The traders might not come this year, the storm that's coming will be too treacherous for them to arrive here safely. They should be able to make it next week at the most. In the meantime I want Albriech and Baldor to stay indoors, if the soldiers come for their order I don't want them to see you, they may try to take you away and fight in this cursed war, but I won't stand for it!" Horst said slamming his fist.

"Now let's enjoy the meal your mother has prepared for us, aye?" Horst said looking at his sons. All three of them nodded their heads in agreement. Haldor got up and went to help Elain carry the food to the table. Once everything was ready they said grace and began eating.

There was a great selection of food to choose from, they had deer sausage, porridge, Elain's famous honey buns, eggs, and milk.

After their hearty breakfast Haldor went outside, the ground was covered in a light sheet of snow. As he walked through the village he began to think about the egg and what he would do, once it hatched.

'I cant keep it here in the village. They'd probably turn me in to the Empire, just to avoid Galbatorix's wrath. No, I must find a place outside the village, but then what? I know nothing about caring for a dragon, can they hunt as soon as they hatch? Or do they need nursing? What do they eat? Fish? Meat? How big do they grow? And don't forget the fire-breathing part'

Haldor was so wrapped up in his thoughts that he didn't see Katrina in front of him. He bumped into her and they both fell.

OOF!

Haldor looked beside him on the ground and saw Katrina; he quickly got up and tended to her.

"Katrina I'm so sorry!" Haldor pulled her up to her feet and helped dust off the snow. Katrina only laughed at his antics.

"Haldor it's alright, nothing is broken." She giggled. Haldor rubbed his head as he blushed for his clumsiness.

"Right, oh now that you're here, I have a message from Roran." he stated.

"Really what did he say?" she said anxiously.

"He said something about seeing you when the merchants arrived, and that you are the most beautiful girl he has ever and he thinks nothing else."

"Oh thank you Haldor, you've just made me the happiest girl in Alagaësia." Katrina hugged him and went off in glee.

Haldor walked out of the village and into a forest separate from the Spine, Raven-point it was called, named after the cliff shaped like the head of a raven. It was there Baldor taught him to use a bow; it was there that he could find peace of mind.

It had been a long while since he had been there last, running through the brush and climbing the trees, even then he didn't know all its corners.

Haldor walked into the forest and followed the trail; he walked for two minutes but then decided to go off trail. He took in his new surrounds, making a mental map as he went along. He spotted something…strange. There was a hole in the side of a hill; it was partially covered, by a boulder, with just enough room for him to squeeze through.

Haldor looked around for any tracks in the ground; maybe it was a cave that something or someone lived in. When he saw no tracks he stepped into the hole, once inside he noticed immediately that the hole was small on the outside but the tunnel he was in was bigger. The walls of the tunnel were lined with strange orange stones.

A/N: In the Httyd dragon episode "Iron Gronckle" you'll notice that Meatlug only ate the orange rocks, which made Gronckle iron.

The light dimmed as he walked further and deeper down the tunnel, the walls wet, Haldor swore he could hear voices echoing, but it could have been his mind playing tricks. He continued further until his foot kicked something metal, he bent over and felt for the object, grabbing it out his hand grazed it. He picked up the object, and began to use his sense of touch since it was dark. The object had a long handle, it split at the top forming a T, one side of it was pointy, but not sharp, the other was flat edged, a pickaxe maybe? But what would a pickaxe be doing in a tunnel, unless the said tunnel was a-

"Mine." Haldor said to himself. "This must be a mine from when people first settled here."

Haldor continued down the tunnel until he saw a light, as he got closer and closer the light got bigger and bigger until he was at he reached the opening. He stood on a ledge and looked around. There he stood inside a cove, the walls high as village gates, the trees that surrounded the cove left little light from the sky. The cove was sizable, it had a large pond, some small trees, and large boulders scattered all over, luckily there was a rock mound leading from the ledge to the cove floor. Haldor slowly climbed down and explored the cove. The ground was covered in frost; the trees surrounding the cove blocked most of the snowfall. So far the cove was peaceful; nature seemed to silence within the walls. Haldor was about to leave when something caught his eye. He walked over and saw an altar or pedestal of some sort.

The pedestal was at the center of the cove, it looked like something was supposed to be placed on it, and it had markings of dragons all over. In front of the pedestal there was a small platform, it had a small cavity in the shape of a sword handle. A shape he knew too well, he looked closer and saw writing next to the cavity.

"Født av raseri, Ladet med raseri" Haldor read. "What does that mean?" he asked himself. Haldor was confused and decided he had been here long enough and started to leave, he climbed up the rock pile to the ledge and took one last look at the cove before he left.

When Haldor got home he kept the discovery of the cove to himself, but he did keep a little souvenir, he emptied his pocket revealing on of the orange stones from the mine, he uncovered the floorboards in his closet and placed it beside the egg and the sword, he covered the floor and went about the day.

For the next few days it seemed that the Traders wouldn't come at all. Two days to four, four days to eight. It seemed like all hope was lost. Haldor wouldn't be able to speak with Eragon, like they said they would. Until the next day, he heard a great commotion outside and got up and rushed to the window, he looked out and saw Horse drawn carriages riding through the village. Elated he quickly cleaned himself and got ready.

With Eragon

They reached Carvahall by noon and Garrow parked the wagon and picketed the horses, then drew coins from his pouch. "Get yourselves some treats. Roran, do what you want, only be at Horst's in time for supper. Eragon, bring that stone and come with me." Eragon grinned at Roran and pocketed the money, already planning how to spend it.

Roran departed immediately with a determined expression on his face. Garrow led Eragon into the crowd, shouldering his way through the bustle. Women were buying cloth, while nearby their husbands examined a new latch, hook, or tool. Children ran up and down the road, shrieking with excitement. Knives were displayed here, spices there, and pots were laid out in shiny rows next to leather harnesses.

Eragon stared at the traders curiously. They seemed less prosperous than last year. Their children had a frightened, wary look, and their clothes were patched. The gaunt men carried swords and daggers with a new familiarity, and even the women had poniards belted at their waists.

'What could have happened to make them like this? And why are they so late?' Wondered Eragon. He remembered the traders as being full of good cheer, but there was none of that now. Garrow pushed down the street, searching for Merlock, a trader who specialized in odd trinkets and pieces of jewelry. They found him behind a booth, displaying brooches to a group of women. As each new piece was revealed, exclamations of admiration followed. Eragon guessed that more than a few purses would soon be depleted. Merlock seemed to flourish and grow every time his wares were complimented. He wore a goatee, held himself with ease, and seemed to regard the rest of the world with slight contempt.

The excited group prevented Garrow and Eragon from getting near the trader, so they settled on a step and waited. As soon as Merlock was unoccupied, they hurried over.

"And what might you sirs want to look at?" asked Merlock. "An amulet or trinket for a lady?" With a twirl he pulled out a delicately carved silver rose of excellent workmanship. The polished metal caught Eragon's attention, and he eyed it appreciatively. The trader continued, "Not even three crowns, though it has come all the way from the famed craftsmen of Belatona."

Garrow spoke in a quiet voice. "We aren't looking to buy, but to sell." Merlock immediately covered the rose and looked at them with new interest.

"I see. Maybe, if this item is of any value, you would like to trade it for one or two of these exquisite pieces." He paused for a moment while Eragon and his uncle stood uncomfortably, then continued,

"You did bring the object of consideration?"

"We have it, but we would rather show it to you elsewhere," said Garrow in a firm voice.

Merlock raised an eyebrow, but spoke smoothly. "In that case, let me invite you to my tent." He gathered up his wares and gently laid them in an ironbound chest, which he locked. Then he ushered them up the street and into the temporary camp. They wound between the wagons to a tent removed from the rest of the traders'.

It was crimson at the top and sable at the bottom, with thin triangles of colors stabbing into each other. Merlock untied the opening and swung the flap to one side.

Small trinkets and strange pieces of furniture, such as a round bed and three seats carved from tree stumps filled the tent. A gnarled dagger with a ruby in the pommel rested on a white cushion.

Merlock closed the flap and turned to them. "Please, seat yourselves." When they had, he said, "Now show me why we are meeting in private." Eragon unwrapped the stone and set it between the two men. Merlock reached for it with a gleam in his eye, then stopped and asked, "May I?" When Garrow indicated his approval, Merlock picked it up. He put the stone in his lap and reached to one side for a thin box. Opened, it revealed a large set of copper scales, which he set on the ground. After weighing the stone, he scrutinized its surface under a jeweler's glass, tapped it gently with a wooden mallet, and drew the point of a tiny clear stone over it. He measured its length and diameter, then recorded the figures on a slate. He considered the results for a while. "Do you know what this is worth?"

"No," admitted Garrow. His cheek twitched, and he shifted uncomfortably on the seat.

Merlock grimaced. "Unfortunately, neither do I. But I can tell you this much: the white veins are the same material as the blue that surrounds them, only a different color. What that material might be, though, I haven't a clue. It's harder than any rock I have seen, harder even than diamond. Whoever shaped it used tools I have never seen—or magic. Also, it's hollow."

"What?" exclaimed Garrow.

An irritated edge crept into Merlock's voice. "Did you ever hear a rock sound like this?" He grabbed the dagger from the cushion and slapped the stone with the flat of the blade. A pure note filled the air, then faded away smoothly. Eragon was alarmed, afraid that the stone had been damaged. Merlock tilted the stone toward them. "You will find no scratches or blemishes where the dagger struck. I doubt I could do anything to harm this stone, even if I took a hammer to it."

Garrow crossed his arms with a reserved expression. A wall of silence surrounded him. Eragon was puzzled. 'I knew that the stone appeared in the Spine through magic, but made by magic? What for and why?' He blurted, "But what is it worth?"

"I can't tell you that," said Merlock in a pained voice. "I am sure there are people who would pay dearly to have it, but none of them are in Carvahall. You would have to go to the southern cities to find a buyer. This is a curiosity for most people—not an item to spend money on when practical things are needed."

Garrow stared at the tent ceiling like a gambler calculating the odds. "Will you buy it?"

The trader answered instantly, "It's not worth the risk. I might be able to find a wealthy buyer during my spring travels, but I can't be certain. Even if I did, you wouldn't be paid until I returned next year. No, you will have to find someone else to trade with. I am curious, however . . . Why did you insist on talking to me in private?"

Eragon put the stone away before answering. "Because," he glanced at the man, wondering if he would explode like Sloan, "I found this in the Spine, and folks around here don't like that."

Merlock gave him a startled look. "Do you know why my fellow merchants and I were late this year?"

Eragon shook his head.

"Our wanderings have been dogged with misfortune. Chaos seems to rule Alagaësia. We could not avoid illness, attacks, and the most cursed black luck. Because the Varden's attacks have increased, Galbatorix has forced cities to send more soldiers to the borders; men who are needed to combat the Urgals. The brutes have been migrating southeast, toward the Hadarac Desert. No one knows why and it wouldn't concern us, except that they're passing through populated areas. They've been spotted on roads and near cities. Worst of all are reports of a Shade, though the stories are unconfirmed. Not many people survive such an encounter."

"Why haven't we heard of this?" cried Eragon.

"Because," said Merlock grimly, "it only began a few months ago. Whole villages have been forced to move because Urgals destroyed their fields and starvation threatens."

"Nonsense," growled Garrow. "We haven't seen any Urgals; the only one around here has his horns mounted in Morn's tavern."

Merlock arched an eyebrow. "Maybe so, but this is a small village hidden by mountains. It's not surprising that you've escaped notice. However, I wouldn't expect that to last. I only mentioned this because strange things are happening here as well if you found such a stone in the Spine." With that sobering statement, he bid them farewell with a bow and slight smile.

Garrow headed back to Carvahall with Eragon trailing behind.

"What do you think?" asked Eragon.

"I'm going to get more information before I make up my mind. Take the stone back to the wagon, and then do what you want. I'll meet you for dinner at Horst's."

Eragon dodged through the crowd and happily dashed back to the wagon. Trading would take his uncle hours, time that he planned to enjoy fully. He hid the stone under the bags, and then set out into town with a cocky stride.

He walked over to the Forge and saw Baldor banging away at the anvil.

"Hey Baldor! Have you seen Hal recently?"

"He went out to sell the deer skin, check some of the booths, maybe you'll catch wind of him." Baldor said. Eragon nodded thanks and let Baldor get back to work.

He walked from one booth to another, evaluating the goods with a buyer's eye, despite his meager supply of coins. As he did he wondered about Merlock's words about disarray in Alagaësia, and talked with the other merchants, and surprisingly they confirmed what Merlock said. Over and over the message was repeated: last year's security has deserted us; new dangers have appeared, and nothing is safe.

Eragon was just about to buy some sweets when he saw whom he was searching for. Haldor was preoccupied with counting his money for the deerskin he hadn't noticed Eragon.

"Looks like you got a better trade than me." Eragon said abruptly, startling Haldor.

"Well I guess I got lucky, how've you been?"

"I've been bored out of my mind all week, I feel I've nearly gone mental." Eragon chuckled.

"Well my week has been pretty interesting."

"Oh do tell."

"Sorry it's a secret. Where's that stone of yours?"

"I put it on the cart with Uncle."

"What!? Are you serious!? Do you know what would happen if someone found it!?" Haldor said hysterically.

"Relax it's not worth anything. The traders didn't see it of any value."

"Why does it not surprise me that you tried to sell it?" Haldor asked sarcastically.

"Are going to talk about a stone all day or are we going to go enjoy ourselves?"

Haldor relented his question and sighed. "Fine."

Later that day they bought six sticks of malt candy and two small piping-hot cherry pies. The hot food felt good after hours upon hours of standing in the snow. They licked the sticky syrup from their hands regretfully, both boys wished for more, but sat on the edge of a porch and nibbled into their candy. Some kids from Carvahall were wrestling nearby, but they decided not to join them.

As the day descended into late afternoon, the traders took their business into people's homes. Haldor was impatient for evening time, though not as badly as Eragon, when the troubadours would come out to tell stories and perform tricks. They both loved hearing about magic, gods, and if they were especially lucky, the Dragon Riders. Carvahall had its own storyteller, Brom, a friend to the boys, but his tales grew old over the years, whereas the troubadours always had new ones that they always listened to.

Eragon had just broken of an icicle from the underside of the porch when he spotted Sloan nearby. The butcher had not seen him, so Eragon ducked his head, grabbing Haldor as well, and bolted around a corner toward Morn's tavern.

'What's the big idea?" Haldor said crossed. Eragon held his hands up in surrender.

"Sorry I didn't want Sloan to see me."

"What does that have to do with me?"

"He would have asked if you've seen me and let's face it you're not a very good liar." Eragon chuckled.

"I am too!" Haldor protested. Eragon only shook his head. "Sure."

They then entered the tavern.

The inside was hot and filled with greasy smoke from sputtering tallow candles. The shiny-black Urgal horns, their twisted span as great as his outstretched arms, were mounted over the door. The bar was long and low, with a stack of staves on one end for customers to carve. Morn tended the bar, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. The bottom half of his face was short and mashed, as if he had rested his chin on a grinding wheel. People crowded solid oak tables and listened to two traders who had finished their business early and had come in for beer. Morn looked up from a mug he was cleaning.

"Haldor! Eragon! Good to see you two, the mighty hunters of Carvahall have bestowed me with their presence." Morn laughed. "Eragon, where's your uncle?"

"He's out buying, he'll take a while." Eragon shrugged.

"And Roran is he here?" asked Morn as he swiped the cloth through another mug.

"Yes, no sick animals to keep him back this year"

"That's good."

Haldor was looking around and saw two traders telling stories, he gestured to them and asked Morn: "Who are they?"

"Grain buyers. They bought everyone's seed at ridiculously low prices, and now they're telling wild stories, expecting us to believe them."

"People need that money. We can't get by without it." Eragon protested.

"Exactly my point." Morn grumbled.

"What kind of stories?" Haldor asked.

Morn snorted. "They say the Varden have formed a pact with the Urgals and are massing an army to attack us. Supposedly, it's only through the grace of our king that we've been protected for so long—as if Galbatorix would care if we burned to the ground . . .. Go listen to them. I have enough on my hands without explaining their lies."

The first trader filled a chair with his enormous girth; his every movement caused it to protest loudly. There was no hint of hair on his face, his pudgy hands were baby smooth, and he had pouting lips that curled petulantly as he sipped from a flagon. The second man had a florid face. The skin around his jaw was dry and corpulent, filled with lumps of hard fat, like cold butter gone rancid.

Contrasted with his neck and jowls, the rest of his body was un- naturally thin.

The first trader vainly tried to pull back his expanding borders to fit within the chair.

He said, "No, no, you don't understand. It is only through the king's unceasing efforts on your behalf that you are able to argue with us in safety. If he, in all his wisdom, were to withdraw that support, woe unto you!"

Someone hollered, "Right, why don't you also tell us the Riders have returned and you've each killed a hundred elves. Do you think we're children to believe in your tales? We can take care of our- selves." The group chuckled.

The trader started to reply when his thin companion intervened with a wave of his hand. Gaudy jewels flashed on his fingers.

"You misunderstand. We know the Empire cannot care for each of us personally, as you may want, but it can keep Urgals and other abominations from overrunning this…place."

The trader continued, "You're angry with the Empire for treating people unfairly, a legitimate concern, but a government cannot please everyone. There will inevitably be arguments and conflicts. However, the majority of us have nothing to complain about. Every country has some small group of malcontents who aren't satisfied with the balance of power."

"Yeah," called a woman, "if you're willing to call the Varden small!"

The fat man sighed. "We already explained that the Varden have no interest in helping you. That's only a falsehood perpetuated by the traitors in an attempt to disrupt the Empire and convince us that the real threat is inside—not outside—our borders. All they want to do is overthrow the king and take possession of our land.

They have spies everywhere as they prepare to invade. You never know who might be working for them."

Eragon did not agree, but the traders' words were smooth, and people were nodding. He stepped forward and said, "How do you know this? I can say that clouds are green, but that doesn't mean it's true."

"Why don't you prove you aren't lying." Haldor added. The two men glared at the boys while the villagers waited silently for the answer.

The thin trader spoke first. He avoided Haldor and Eragon's eyes. "Aren't your children taught respect? Or do you let boys and Hiccups challenge men whenever they want to?" he smirked.

Anger flared in Haldor's eyes as he charged the man, but Eragon held him firmly, stopping him from doing something crazy.

The listeners fidgeted and stared at Eragon as he calmed Haldor. Then a man said, "Answer the question."

"We need not to answer."

"Why not? Surely men of your wisdom aren't afraid to answer us children!" Haldor said spitting at them.

The people in the room looked from Haldor to the traders, expecting an answer.

"It's only common sense," said the fat one, sweat beading on his upper lip. His reply riled the villagers, and the dispute resumed.

Haldor broke from Eragon's grasp and returned to the bar with a sour taste in his mouth. He had never before met anyone who favored the Empire and tore down its enemies. There was a deep-seated hatred of the Empire in Carvahall, almost hereditary in nature. The Empire never helped them during harsh years when they nearly starved, and its tax collectors were heartless. The two boys felt justified in disagreeing with the traders regarding the king's mercy, but they did speculate about the Varden.

The Varden were a rebel group that constantly raided and attacked the Empire. It was a mystery, as to who their leader was or who had formed them in the years following Galbatorix's rise to power over a century ago. The group had garnered much sympathy as they eluded Galbatorix's efforts to destroy them. Little was known about the Varden except that if you were a fugitive and had to hide, or if you hated the Empire, they would accept you. The only problem was finding them.

Morn leaned over the bar and said, "Don't worry Haldor you're more than what you are. Those fools will be asking for it soon."

Haldor nodded his thanks and stood at the bar.

"Incredible, isn't it? They're worse than vultures circling a dying animal. There's going to be trouble if they stay much longer. "

"For us or for them?" Eragon asked.

"Them," said Morn as angry voices filled the tavern. Haldor and Eragon left when the argument threatened to become violent. The door thudded shut behind them, cutting off the voices. It was early evening, and the sun was sinking rapidly; the houses cast long shadows on the ground.

"Are you alright?" Eragon asked concerned, Haldor trudged on and only sighed. "Define alright." he deadpanned.

"Hal don't worry about what those traders say, they're full of hot air. We both will be able to do great things and well do them together, friends forever." Eragon said offering his hand, Haldor smiled and they shook hands.

As they headed down the street, Eragon noticed Roran and Katrina standing in an alley.

"Haldor I'm going to talk to Roran I'll see you later at dinner."

"Alright."

Haldor went back to his house and headed upstairs to his room. As he lay in his bed, he began looking up at the ceiling, thinking of what the traders said, It burned to his core. Suddenly he heard a shaking noise in the room. He got up and looked around listening closely. The Sound came again and Haldor quickly turned to his closet, the sound got louder and louder. He removed the floorboards and gasped as he saw the egg moving. The blue veins that spread across it, were glowing brightly, then suddenly it stopped. It stopped moving and glowing and remained completely still.

Haldor was curious as well as surprised and inspected the egg; he plucked it with his finger and heard a hollow note.

"Dad said it was an egg but it sounds like nothing is inside." He said to himself. His thoughts were interrupted when he heard his mother calling.

"Haldor come down for dinner!"

Haldor looked back at the stone and put it back under the floorboards, once done he headed down stairs.

A/N: Sorry for the wait the next chapter will be up REAL soon. if you have any questions feel free to ask, if you have a concern please be respectful, no trolls allowed. I have so many ideas for this story, so I try to make it long so you can get your fill. have a great day

Translations from Norwegian:

Født av raseri: Born by fury

Ladet med raseri: Charged with fury