Here we are again, far sooner than I expected... I'll try not to get your hopes up though; this was more of an exercise in procrastination that may or may not be repeated!
I'm also blown away by the amount of reads and reviews this has gotten already. It's inspiring, and I hope I can live up to your expectations!
EDIT: I've revised the content of this chapter a little bit to compensate for a few small issues that readers have pointed out, and to correct some things that bother me as well or I just want to improve (seeing as this chapter was written well past a reasonable bedtime) before continuing. Thanks for the input! I promise to do more self-revision in the future before posting!
Chapter 2: Long Time Longing
Eragon paused in the midst of his meal, allowing the ethereal sound of elven singing and mead-induced friendly banter ring in his sensitive ears. He cast his gaze around the long living-oak table, committing the elves' unusually joyous expressions to memory as they sang and conversed politely. While they were certainly far from the dwarven standards of drunkenness, the mead that coursed through many of them had temporarily lifted their eerily impassive demeanours.
He allowed himself a ghost of a smile as he sipped from his goblet and reflected upon the events of the last year. They were celebrating two things: first, the completion of the buildings on the islands' centermost plateau, which would act as Dragon Haven's main hub – a headquarters of sorts. And second, Saphira was noticeably pregnant and it would only be a matter of days before her egg would be under the elves' watch in the nesting hall next door. Afterwards she would continue to hunt and assist construction, both physical and magical, while checking in on her egg every so often.
All of the massive halls and quarters littering the plateau consisted of a combination of architectural techniques. Out of fondness and remembrance of the elves' natural treehouses in Ellesméra, they had sung many massive oaks out of the hard earth of the plateau. The hardy trees made up the outer structure of the building, and their thick branches provided rooms and flooring on the upper levels of the main hall. The hall itself, tall and wide enough to house nearly two dragons of Shruikan's size, was sculpted out of thick stone, whose ornate carvings and arches resembled the underground structures housing the dwarves of the Boer Mountains. The hall faced eastwards so as to allow the sun to shine through the open leafy canopies of the trees, whose branches mingled above the structure. The eastern mountains shielded the open, arched entryway to the main hall from the glare of sunrise – preventing it from blinding those who gathered at the table for breakfast some one hundred feet inside.
As night dimmed the feasting hall from above, lanterns lining the walls gradually lit up with red werelights – coordinating their intensity with the fading intensity of the sun's natural light so as to create the illusion that the lightning had not changed. The sky above betrayed this, however, as through the towering trees' leafy branches, stars flickered in and out of view.
Eragon had been very open to the ideas the Eldunarí had to offer, and found himself agreeing or improving upon their ideas more often than not. The partially open ceilings had been the dragons' idea, allowing more freedom for young dragons to come and go from the landings that literally branched through the stone walls, not too far above the polished floors of the main hall. While it was an open concept, Eragon had been careful to provide enough privacy for residents and visitors as well. While open archways twenty-five feet high led from one room to the next, there were enough feet of stone or oak branch ceiling before the openings above to shelter and provide a sense of enclosed security.
Blödhgarm and a dozen other spellweaving elves had protected the open ceilings from the weather with wards that also reducing the effect of the lights and noise that would emanate from within the halls, so that at night the rest of the plateau's inhabitants would not be disturbed by the roaring of dragons or blinding lights of festivities. Satisfied with the basic structure and the natural freedom it provided, Eragon opted to name the hall Thràndurin Hall, after his former mentor Oromis. Glaedr was particularly pleased with this idea, and from within his Eldunarí he assisted Eragon in engraving dark, golden runes into the entryway arch, finalizing the name of the future Riders' new home.
Eragon's private quarters in the upper branches of the hall greatly resembled his old treehouse in Ellésmera, however he had also sung out a cavernous office of sorts within the thirty-foot thick trunk of the tree. It was through this more official room that one had to pass before arriving in his chambers. Otherwise, there was a wooden landing supported by the western stone wall beneath, where a sizeable dragon could fly up to from outside or rest upon.
The dozens of other smaller, more uniform hollows in the winding tree branches and trunks above the main floor were unoccupied and would serve as residences for Eragon's student Riders.
He set his goblet down with a soft click, and caught the eye of a relatively young male elf casually staring at him from the middle of the lengthy table. His piercing grey eyes told Eragon that he was eager for something, but containing his excitement. It bothered Eragon that he did not yet know all the elves that had travelled with him - while he know knew quite well the 9 that had originally acted as his and Saphira's bodyguards, duty, training, and a need to be left alone had otherwise occupied his time. He had sparred with a few on occasion but could not remember their names, if they had ever shared them. If he ever needed speak with an elf it was usually Blödhgarm or - if he was unavailable - Yaela, one of the others who had been his original guards. His frequent consultation with Blödhgarm had deepened their camaraderie into a professional friendship of sorts that at least provided the illusion that Eragon was still capable of socializing.
He suddenly felt very self-conscious sitting at the head of table, even though Saphira lay perched not fifteen feet above him, on an immense stone window ledge decorated with blue gems. He acknowledged the elf's grey-eyed glance with a slight smiling nod, and the elf turned away to continue a conversation with a chuckling, rosy-cheeked male across from him.
As the meatless feast was cleared, Eragon addressed the line of twenty elves before him. Among them at the opposite end of the table, Blödhgarm bared his fangs in a proud smirk. As the dull roar of conversation died down, Eragon began, electing to speak in the Ancient Language:
"Friends, it has been a short year since our arrival here in Dragon Haven. It is with my deepest and humblest gratitude that I congratulate your efforts in assisting the development of a new home for the Dragon Rider order."
Waking from an overfed slumber, Saphira hummed from above as the elves politely looked to him for more. Just like that, it was as if the mead had been drained from their bodies and the effects all but forgotten. It was an unnerving sight, making it difficult for Eragon to discern whether they were looks of respect, awe, or simply facades that shielded annoyance at his relatively inexperienced tongue. He continued, trying not to think about the fact that almost all of them more than tripled his life experience in years.
"As we further establish a home on this island I am sure there will soon be new Riders in our midst, and we must be prepared to accommodate their presence and begin their training. Blödhgarm, if you would have the Council meet with me at dawn to discuss matters regarding the instruction and care of the Riders that come to us," he nodded at the animal-like spellweaver, who nodded back with a sly grin.
With that, the congregation before him began making to leave, and Eragon fought a sudden wave of fatigue as he stood from his ornate wooden chair.
I'm going upstairs, he told Saphira.
Little one… you have been in a grim mood all day. What ails you?
I said I'm going upstairs. He closed off their connection to make his point, and he bade farewell to the elves as they casually departed the hall for their own abodes.
Eragon ascended a stone staircase set against the back wall of the hall, passing two landings before stopping at the top. He followed the tunnel of a hallway through the trunk of one of the trees to a large, polished wooden door inlaid with blue gemstones and carved runes that spelled his various titles across the arch.
He entered his nearly-vacant office, a large, spherical hollow within the trunk of a tree that featured a semi-circular stone table in the middle, surrounded by seven solid chairs carved out of pine. Behind the largest of these chairs was another doorway, with a much more plain and uninviting wooden door set into it. The private, windowed room he now called his own lay beyond.
As he passed through the solid door without touching it, he heard Saphira land on the wooden balcony outside with unusual tenderness. Walking towards the bed that lay between two windows, he allowed it to catch him as he fell backwards onto it. Through a sizeable opening in the thick branch making up his ceiling he looked up at the stars, flickering in and out of view as the oak leaves swayed in the gentle breeze.
It has already been a year, and I still cannot rest my mind.
Saphira poked her neck into the room through the arched doorway to the balcony, noting Eragon's position. As he re-opened his mind, she dared a gentle thought: Little one?
I'm sorry, Saphira. It's been one year and we still haven't hatched any of the eggs. No one has come for us, either. And every time I look out upon these new friends of ours, I cannot tell whether they appreciate my leadership role or would rather I left here forever, too.
It is in their nature to appear this way, you know that.
There was silence, both verbally and mentally, until she sensed a great wave of despair overcome him, threatening to depress her as well. That is not all that worries you. You are still troubled by our departure?
…You could say that. He sat up slowly, fixing his eyes instead on a fairth mounted on the wall across from the bed. Though he had not yet lit a werelight in the torch, his elf-like vision allowed him to make out every detail of the image in the starlight.
Saphira glanced at it and snorted. I have not seen this one before. You were busy during my hunt, I take it?
It was a rhetorical question and he did not respond, only continuing to stare at the golden brown fairth.
An inch-wide border decorated with runes in the Ancient Language surrounded the image. The runes wove intricately and seamlessly throughout the border, almost as if it were a single word. An endless word that would go on forever, no matter the direction it took. Upon closer inspection, Saphira could read it: "two Riders, two Shadeslayers, two friends," repeated all around.
The image itself was breathtaking. It was a panoramic view of Dragon Haven, similar to how Eragon and Saphira had both first witnessed it. The island could be seen in its entirety, with a half inch of ocean caught between the northern and southern mountains and the border of the fairth. The western beach seemed to sparkle in the sunlight, as the sun was just rising and only a sliver could be seen peeping over the mountains that backed the eastern coast of the island. It was enough to bathe the front half of the island in sunlight while the half closer to the mountain remained in the shade. At the border of light and darkness, upon a central plateau in one of the larger plains, Thrándurin Hall and the surrounding buildings could only just be seen.
The two corner peaks of the mountains that towered above the rest seemed to frame the top part of the image. Just above the rising sun were the silhouettes of two dragons, riding side by side, with two Riders atop them, barely visible from that distance.
Eragon quietly uttered a stream of words in the Ancient Language, and to Saphira's surprise the image began to swirl with colour.
The sun lit up first with a deep, radiant yellow that then bled over the mountains, turning them a dark, shadowed brown. The forests and fields below soon followed, the colour green spreading like a stain. From the center of the image the colour spread outwards, blueing the sea and the sky, browning the mountains, yellowing the sparkling shores, and illuminating the border with a deep gold. The runes becan to glow in vibrant blues and greens, which then slithered along the words like a smooth, coloured serpent. Finally, the silhouettes above the sun grew in size slightly as the dragons flew in front of the sun and faced the viewer of the fairth. As they moved, colour stole into them as well – revealing the sparkling blues of Saphira and the shimmering greens of Fírnen. Atop Saphira, Eragon hoisted Brisingr in the air in a joyful shout as he stared at the Rider atop Fírnen. Arya returned his gaze with a similar expression of joy, Támerlein raised as if ready to strike.
Saphira was silent for several seconds before she began keening quietly. Eragon whispered more words and the colour faded as the image returned to its original state. He fell forwards on the edge of his bed, hunched with his elbows on his knees as the spell's energy requirement took its toll. A single tear rolled down his angular cheek and dotted the wood below with a dark splotch. He took a long, shuddering breath before saying aloud, "You too, huh?"
Little one, you surely have not forgotten the physical reminder of Fírnen I carry within me? While yes, we dragons tend to mate more than once, I cannot help but feel a longing for him the way you long for her.
Eragon considered this, and stood up, turning away from the fairth to touch his head to Saphira's snout.
She continued: I notice you wrote "two friends" and not "four".
"I liked the way the letters flowed together without mentioning the dragons..." he blurted, sheepish.
There was silence for a minute.
"Sometimes… sometimes I wonder whether we really had to leave. Just because some old dragon bones said so, doesn't mean…" he paused, conflicting feelings paralyzing his thoughts.
You still have magic, Eragon. Why must you insist on refraining from scrying her, or anyone for that matter? asked Saphira, hoping to change his mind about the decision he had made on the journey to Dragon Haven.
"No," he stated flatly, "we left with a purpose in mind and if I tease myself with sounds and sights of my friends without actually being in their presence, it would only madden me."
You forget that you are already sleepless even without that, she quipped.
Frustrated, he began pacing the room before once more feeling a wave of exhaustion surge through his body. Resorting to a less demanding method of communication, he continued the conversation mentally as he sank back into the cushioned safety of his bed.
You may be right, but… I simply cannot. Especially not with her.
What of Nasuada? Orik? Or Roran? she persisted.
We've said our goodbyes, and now we're here for a specific purpose. They know that when they have Riders ready to send our way they will be able to send them straight to us – we've marked the way clearly enough with magic.
You cannot do this to yourself… to us… forever. I wish I could put it all behind me as well, but that is simply not the case. Eventually we will have to communicate with those in Alagaësia somehow. They will understand if it takes a while, but as soon as there is a new Rider in our midst there will be no excuse for your stubbornness. She snorted and pulled her head out of his room, but maintained close contact with his mind.
Once it was clear that he did not intend to reply, she withdrew enough to focus on the laborious task of sleeping comfortably while pregnant – harder for a dragon than it might sound.
Eragon gave the fairth a final longing glance before disrobing slightly and lying on his back to stare at the stars once more. If he squirmed a bit to see further around the edge of the window in the ceiling, he could see a sliver of the moon attempting to outshine the stars, numerous though they were. Somehow the dark calm of nighttime coupled with the thought-piercing brightness of the stars and the moon was a soothing remedy for Eragon's thoughts. The inner turmoil abated, if only slightly, as he continued staring skywards.
She's right, he thought to himself, careful not to give Saphira the smug sense of satisfaction she would adopt once he caved into her logic.
But we haven't seen a Rider yet. Until then, all we can do is wait and keep trying to hatch the dragon eggs that we have. Blödhgarm reported that they've been squirming in their shells for months, but so far none have hatched. Has something happened? What if Saphira's egg acts the same way? What will I do with them once they hatch? They will have no Riders! Can we afford to raise wild dragons?
These questions and more flooded his mind once more, and he had to concentrate on discerning the shapes on the moon's surface to ignore them. Only once the moon had all but passed by the ceiling window did he fall back into his tormented waking dreams once more.
I apologize for the lengthy descriptions... I always found that (for the first few books, at least) Paolini went over the top with his descriptive imagery. However, in becoming the writer, I realize that a lot if seems necessary to properly create the world in the reader's mind. This will probably be the lengthiest of descriptions, at least until some more foreign travel becomes involved!
I 'scryed' some other Inheritance fanfics and found that there a lot of repetitive ideas and events between fanfics... so I'm going to try to be original, or at least execute the ideas I have in unique, interesting ways. Yes, this will likely become EragonXArya, however as Arya is such a surprisingly difficult character to work with, I doubt there will be much in the way of fluff, at least for a long time to come, and certainly no lemons - not my thing, sorry!
Thanks again for any and all feedback! It's a pleasure to have an audience for my writing, even if the content does not belong to me!
-kms