Thanks again for the positive reviews.
This chapter won't be longer, but the next one will be.
Disclaimer: You know the drill. Eragon is Paolini's.
Finally.
Eragon breathed a sigh of relief as he stepped out into the blazing hot afternoon sun. It was finally time to leave this hellhole, as he had cured Elva and had attended to all business he needed to.
Saphira! Eragon searched the Burning Plains for Saphira, and quickly spotted her enormous form as she snacked on a deer.
Hm? Yes, Eragon?
Are you ready to leave yet? We won't be coming back. And where did you get that deer?
I didn't bring anything and I'm not taking anything. As for the deer, I fly fast and hunt faster. You do the math.
Well, come on. Hrothgar's funeral starts soon. We have to find Roran.
Your nest mate? He's still stripping corpses. You should see how much money he's got. Imperials get paid a lot.
"Hey! Roran!" Eragon spotted his cousin with a huge sack bulging with crowns, emptying the pockets of a dead Imperial paymaster.
"Hello there, Mr. Poor and Needy. What might a poor man be doing talking to one so rich?" Roran shook the sack, and coins jingled inside.
Eragon shook his head. "Like I said earlier, Hrothgar has a funeral coming up. I have to go, and I won't be coming back, so you're going to have to go with me."
"Really? Well I suppose a noblemen like myself could spare some time to go to the funeral of a king."
"Stop that Roran. If I were you, I would donate that entire bag of money to the Varden. They need it more than you do."
"Oh, fine. Poor man."
"I heard that!"
The two cousins poked fun at each other all the way to their tent.
You look absolutely royal, Little One. Saphira said.
Eragon was suited up in his dwarven armor, which shone like a beacon under the sun.
Same to you. Saphira, with the help of Eragon, had put on the dwarven dragon armor that was also a gift from Hrothgar. Not only did both look like they were Alagaesia's elite upper class, but both were ready to fight a war.
And your nest mate was looking pretty good too.
As if on cue, Roran emerged from the tent, wearing a black elven tunic with with silver cloth wiven in intricate designs, a vine, blossoms, and in the center, a sparrow on a branch.
"Nice! Very nice! You should wear that to your wedding with Katrina!"
"I can have it?"
"I never said that. But you can borrow it when you get married."
The three walked toward a large group of soldiers, mostly dwarves, as well as several Feldûnost, who had gotten together to say a few last words over King Hrothgar's body before beginning the one-day trip by Feldûnost to Farthen Dûr, where Hrothgar would be buried next to the previous dwarf king.
"Hail, Orik!" A dwarf who stood at the edge of the gathering turned and waved. Eragon noticed that his eyes were slightly red and puffy, he had probably been mourning earlier.
"There you are, Eragon. And greetings to you, too, cousin of Eragon, and of course to you as well, Brightscales. We were just about to begin."
"Oh, you must be Orik. Eragon mentioned you a couple of times. So you're going to be the new dwarven king?"
"Perhaps, although I doubt it. However, I am Hrothgar's nephew, though not by blood, and I might be his heir. His official replacement will be announced after the funeral, so we won't know for a week."
But who else would it be? Saphira asked.
"Well their are plenty of dwarves in Tronjheim. Again, until Hrothgar's will is read, we won't know."
"Attention, all!" An old dwarf with a long, white beard yelled.
"We gather here today to remember King Hrothgar, a fellow warrior killed by a coward with magic. He may be gone now, but while he lived he was a great king, leader, and soldier, who was liked and appreciated by all as a great king!"
"Here, here!" the dwarves gathered there shouted.
"Now, we begin the journey to the tombs of our fathers and previous kings, to bury our king with honor. As a show of respect, Dûrmgrist Feldûnost has lent us some of there best, fastest, toughest animals to take us to Tronjheim. We will take the Sacred Path, a perfectly straight tunnel right to the tombs. Our journey home begins now."
The dwarf mounted a Feldûnost and began riding, and the others did the same. ERagon, Roran, and Orik all mounted the same mount and followed, directly behind the dwarves carrying the casket with Hrothgar's body, and right in front of Saphira, who took the column's end.
The long, solemn row of mourners then east, the blazing sun and the Burning Plains behind them, and the monstrous Beors, only a speck in the distance, straight ahead.
And their is Chapter 3.
Please review.
The next chapter will be longer, and hopefully exceed 1,000 words.
