I do not in any way, shape, or form own the "Inheritance Cycle"!
I'm sorry this chapter is so short! I had back-tracked a little bit in the beginning of my next chapter (after a re-write!) and had to change this to fix it! The other place I could have stopped this, had I added a bit of that chapter to this, would have been slightly awkward, so, I didn't...
Eragon rose early the next morning, before the sun even began to paint the sky with the brilliant colors of dawn. He sat up and stretched his arms above his head before letting them fall limply to his sides, a content sigh escaping his lips. He swung his legs around and stood, a small smile on his face. Saphira opened a single, large eye and hummed softly.
"Good morning to you too," he said yawned, his smile broadening.
They were inside their simple house they had built quickly after arriving in the foreign land. Rather than building a shelter after the way of the elves, they had decided to build one similar to the way buildings were in Carvahall. For, as much as Eragon liked the houses of the elves,-they are magnificent, beautiful buildings- he preferred those of his own people, the kind he had grown up in and was more familiar with. When they had left Alagaesia, he ached for his homeland almost as much as he had the people within.
In building the way they had, he could create a structure that was as large as necessary and could be built upon for more room if the need arose.
Their building was a simple one, but exceedingly large; it was made of logs that rested in grooves cut into the one below it, the roof was wooden planks. They had cut some of the logs so as to have windows and a door.
It was very simple, but they didn't spend much time in it and they didn't want a fancy palace. At the moment, it was only one large room, it was all they had need of and they didn't need to spend more time and resources building unnecessarily.
Eragon strode to the door and walked outside; even though it was dark he could still see rather well.
The young Riders had their own buildings, they helped each new child build his or her own when they arrived.
Eragon smiled as he walked down the dirt path that had buildings on each side, thinking of each individual child and dragon, thinking of the progress they were making and had yet to make. His thoughts went to his own training and his smile faded; he had been such a stubborn fool and he hadn't learned near as much as he had needed. He bit his lip as he thought of the aggravation he must have caused Brom,-strong-willed, obstinate and yet eternally patient, Brom- better understanding the sometimes harsh outbursts when he hadn't been doing something right or just because he didn't want to. Eragon saw those tendencies in himself; the temper, the stubbornness and the desire to teach and devotion to the Riders which drove him to patient when nothing else would.
He shook his head, his expression slightly grim as he neared a large oak tree at the right side of the path. Fírnen lay at the base of the tree-sleeping lightly- and stairs wound around the trunk until they eventually stopped at the top-just before the branches began spreading out very far. Eragon's smile returned as he remembered Arya chanting-singing-the words of the Ancient Language needed to create the structure unique to the race of Elves.
Fírnen lifted his head and studied Eragon for a moment before he moved to allow him walk up the stairs. Thank you, Eragon told him, putting his foot on the first step. He quickly ascended the steep stairs and was at the door within moments.