Hey everyone. Chapter 3! I finally got a bate! Thanks Lunar-Sickness!


It was four days after Eragon got back from his hunting trip. The blue rock was still under his bed; and he took it out every once in a while to look at it and admire it. He felt foolish saying it, but he was attracted to the rock. It was perfect. At times, it was almost as if the rock would shake in his arms.

The whole family was getting ready for the harvest. They needed to harvest the crops so they could sell the extra to buy provisions for winter. Luckily, they wouldn't need meat; Eragon had taken care of that. Still, they did needed things like cloth, thread, salt, spices, and other things like that.

The night before the harvest, there was a storm, a bad storm. Eragon heard his Aunt and Uncle talking about how this was one of the worst storms they had been in. At one point, Uncle Garrow had to run outside and help a horse that had gotten loose get back into the barn.

In the morning, they went outside to the destruction. Their fields were destroyed. There were hardly enough crops to feed them for a week, much less sell for a good profit.

The day came when the merchants came to Carvahall. They were nomadic people who traded with people all over Alagaseia. Because they hadn't been able to harvest their crops, Eragon's family was forced to sell almost everything else. They collected items to be sold. Extra pots and pans. Some of the excess venison from Eragon's hunt. They collected the items and what crops they could salvage to be sold to the merchants. They loaded this stuff onto their wagon and rode into Carvahall.

As they were leaving, Eragon remembered the rock under his bed. It was beautiful, sure to get the family a lot of money. As much as he hated it, Eragon knew he needed to sell it. He told his uncle to wait while he ran inside to grab something.

When he got inside, he remembered that he hasn't told his family about the rock.

'I don't know why I didn't just tell them,' thought Eragon.

Scowling, he stuffed the rock in his pack and grabbed his flask of water, using it as his excuse for coming back. It was a long ride after all.

When they got to Carvahall, they went their separate ways: Marain to buy provisions for the winter; Garrow to sell their goods; and Eragon and Roran to go enjoy themselves with the other youth.

Eragon made to go to the tavern, where some other children were sure to be, but turned down a street and looped back towards the merchants. There, he went searching for a jewelry seller. He finally found one, and asked him to examine his rock.

"How much do you think it's worth?" Asked Eragon nervously. His family really needed the money.

"I'm not sure," said the merchant, in a thick, guttural voice. His skin was light brown, a rarity among the usually white humans. He had short black hair and a closely shaved goatee. "It's strong. Stronger than diamond. I don't think I could even make it small enough to make it wearable. Also it's hollow. It's not worth as much if its hollow."

Eragon frowned. He didn't think it was hollow. It was much too heavy for that. However, he would take the merchant's word for it.

"I'll take it off your hands for 5 crowns," said the merchant, finally.

"What?!" cried Eragon. "It's worth at least 5 times that!"

The merchant frowned. "What am I supposed to do with it? I can't chip off pieces for jewelry. It's too hard. I bet I couldn't even sell it for 3 crowns."

Eragon scowled. "I'll just take it and leave then."

Eragon grabbed the rock and stormed out of the tent, shoving the rock in his pack along the way. On his way out, he bumped into someone. It was Brom, the village storyteller. He often told stories about dragons, elves and dwarves. Many people doubted that they were true. Eragon didn't know what to believe. He hadn't seen enough to prove the stories true of false.

"Oh... Hello Brom," said Eragon. The old man was about his height, had short grey hair, a long hooked nose, and a thin, wiry frame. He carried with him a thick, gnarled staff.

The old man's eyes twinkled with amusement, even though his face held a scowl. "What's that you got there, boy?" He asked in a gruff, yet smooth voice.

Eragon looked at the ground and kicked a pebble. He had never been a good liar.

'I suppose that's a good thing,' he thought.

"I'm buying a necklace for my mother," he replied.

Brom laughed. "Don't lie to me boy. You're hiding something in there." Quick as a fox, he snatched Eragon's pack away from him. Holding the boy away with his staff, he pulled the stone out of the bag.

Eragon saw Brom's eyes flash with recognition, then shifted to a mixture of amazement and confusion. That gave him the moment he needed to bat aside the staff and grab the bag and the stone from the old man.

Brom turned slowly towards Eragon, still looking amazed. He reached into his pocket and grabbed his purse. "How much for the rock, boy?"

Eragon thought about it. Better to start high where he could barter down if necessary. "40 crowns," he said, fairly confident that Brom didn't have the money.

To his surprise, Brom counted the money out and handed it to Eragon. Eragon was shocked. Where did he get this money? Counting it for himself, he realized it was actually 45 crowns. Before he could say anything, Brom grabbed the stone and walked away.

Eragon was confused. He didn't know what just happened. He went to a tent to buy a piece of candy and a warm pie with the money. He sat down and thought about it, and, of course, ate. After he finished, he searched for his Uncle, to whom he gave the rest of the money, about 43 crowns. When asked where he got the money, Eragon just said, "I sold a rock I found in the Spine." The reply seemed to satisfy his Uncle, if the money didn't.

Garrow pocketed the coins and turned back to Eragon. "Go find your cousin. Tell him we're dining at Horst's tonight." Eragon nodded and walked off.

Eragon found Roran on the porch of the tavern. He had been sitting there and talking with Katrina. 'Gods,' thought Eragon, 'soon he'll have a house of his own.' Roran and Katrina both blushed when they saw him.

Roran and Eragon then went to Horst's, where they had a big dinner. The slept there that night, for Horst's house had plenty of rooms. In the morning, they got up, had a quick breakfast, and headed back to their house.

They were almost out of the village when Eragon remembered he had left his pack at Horst's. He told his family to go on while he ran back to get it. Horst's wife Elain was waiting outside their house, holding his bag. He thanked her and ran back to his family.

He only got a couple of meters when he heard his name form his right. He turned to see Brom at the doorway to his house, holding a bundled object. Eragon walked over. Brom said, "here, take this. Don't leave your house for the next couple days. Say you're sick. And don't come back into town for a while. A month or two would be best." Brom shoved the object into his hands, which Eragon noticed was shaking slightly. He moved the blankets enough to psee that it was the rock.

Eragon looked back to Brom. "What about the money? We can't b-"

"Don't worry about the money!" snapped Brom. "Just go home and do as I say."

Eragon stuffed the rock in his bag and ran back to his family. He hopped on the wagon and rode back home.


What do you think? Now that my grammar is readable, is it good, or bad? Thanks!