Disclaimer: The Inheritance Cycle and The Legend of Zelda: Twilight Princess are not mine. Both belong to their respective owners. I only own all the original material you do not recognize from either universe.
Song of the Chapter: Ordon Village Theme- Twilight Princess Soundtrack
He was running across unfamiliar open fields, a friendly blue sky overhead. A soft breeze tickled his hair and a grin tugged at his carefree face. He ran along, playfully chasing a young woman ahead of him. Though he possessed swift speed, she bounded along like a deer, always a step ahead of him.
Eragon could not see much of her face, the brilliant morning sunlight caught in his eyes and drowned out her features in a golden glow. She was not garbed in a dress or gown, but in a tunic and leggings that brought the an elf-woman's clothing to mind. Her pale hair glowed like the moon, as if an internal light burned within.
"Hurry up and catch me!" she shouted back at him. For a mere second she turned around, revealing pale skin pleasantly turned into a sharp grin. Bright blue eyes shining in amusement, she stopped for a single moment. Eragon's heart surged in joy and triumph, thinking he had won their game at last, as she became tantalizingly close. But at the last possible moment she whipped around and breezed off again, his fingers just brushing against the sleeve of her tunic.
"Wait!" Eragon cried in vain. "Slow down!"
Coming out of his mind-set, he realized that something was off. Blue heavens were fading, exchanging their serene hues for orange ones that plunged the fields into a sickly light. Slight shadows grew and darkened, morphing into cold fingers that reached for him like the hungry clutches of the undead. There was a numbing chill to the air, and a booming laugh that caused the very earth to vibrate.
The woman suddenly halted, turning sharply around to face him. Eragon yelped in surprise, skidding to a stop and landing on his back like a turtle unable to right itself. His female companion gazed down at him, her own features corrupted by the pervasive twilight that swallowed all else up. Strange lines branded upon her very flesh burned in the dusky haze, illuminating her deathly pale skin. Her lovely countenance was contorted into a bestial snarl, revealing fangs.
"Well?" she snapped impatiently. "What are you waiting for, Hero? Your homeland needs you!"
Drawing a blade from her sheathe, the woman spun about and charged into the darkness, vanishing into them like down a hungry monster's black throat. Eragon attempted to follow her, staggering onto his own two feet, but a burning agony prevented him from all but screaming his pain to the corrupted world. His body was alight with flame, his blood like molten lava, his bones charred sticks against the inferno. Was he in hell?
The booming laughter came again, a hulking shape jeering down at him victoriously.
"Congratulations, Hero, you have broken the cycle. It looks like you have finally allowed me to do what your predecessor was foolish enough to stop. I thank you for that, boy. Take this in token of my gratitude."
The sneering figure raised one massive boot, about to crush him like an ant. Emerged within that agony of shifting bones and liquid fire, Eragon could only squeeze his eyes shut. At least such a death spared him from the slow torture that he was currently suffering.
"Long live the Chosen Hero," the voice hissed, before bringing his crushing weight down.
"No!" Blindly he bolted up, flailing wildly like a netted fish as he tried to shake off the pain that imprisoned him in a burning hell. He groped for his magic, his sword, anything to eliminate the torture that was inflicted upon him. Whether he meant to simply douse the fire or take his own life, not even Eragon knew the answer to that question.
"Shush." Two gentle hands siezed his writing form, a patient and maternal force that slowly pressed the fear and panic out of him. Eragon opened his eyes, seeing clearly for the first time since the storm with vision not obscurbed by unconsciousness or feverish dreams. "Quiet, young lord. Here you are safe and in trustworthy hands. Do not hurt yourself and risk endangering the progress of your recovery."
Eragon Shadeslayer found himself staring into the blue eyes of an unfamiliar woman. Though she was a stranger, he did not register her to be a threat. The very fiber of her being spoke only of concern for his well-being and sorrow that he had reacted so violently upon first awakening. Not to mention her belly was severely swollen with an unborn child, meaning he easily could have subdued her even in such a weakened state.
"Where am I?" he rasped, voice hoarse from both lack of use and from a fever that had undoubtedly ravaged his throat and tonsils. "Who are you?" Suddenly he tensed again, remembering the horrible series of events that had lead up that moment and the final foreboding memories before he had blacked out. "Saphira!" he moaned as if struck. "Where is she? How is she? What happened to-"
The woman tersely put a finger to his lips, silencing the stream of questions. Her blue eyes shone with patience and a sterness the healer Gertrude had once used on him. "Your dragon is injured, but recovering rapidly. There is a girl in the village gifted with both animals and healing. Saphira, as you call her, is being bathed by her adoring crowd of fans as we speak. She has most likely been lulled into sleep because of it."
Immediately Eragon reached out with his mind, searching for the sapphire she-dragon's presence. He felt contentment rolling off Saphira in drowsy waves, her mind unusually still as she dozed under a warm sun while her scales were carefully scrubbed free of any dirt or dust. Knowing Saphira would only leave him if she was completely positive he was safe, Eragon relaxed.
"Where am I?" he asked next. Though this woman was human, her strange style of dress was unfamiliar to him. No race or town had such a fashion in Alagaesia, as far as he knew.
"I am Uli," the woman responded. "You and your dragon crashed into the spirit spring of Ordona. You were found and carried to Ordon Village, where you are now."
When her reply elicited only a blank stare as an answer, Uli sighed with a smile. "I suppose you rich Hylians have never heard of our little village. After all, we are a small and unimportant settlement located far outside of Hyrule proper. I was expecting to much when I figured the wealthy of Castle Town would have been aware of our existence."
Hylian? Hyrule proper? Castle Town? Where in the names of all the gods have I wounded up? All of the names were unfamiliar to him. Those names did not grace any known map of Alagaesia. Unless that blasted storm had blown them into the uncharted wilderness beyond the Beor Mountains (which was close to impossible) then this whole encounter with Uli may as well have been another crazy dream brought on by his injuries.
Spotting his confused look, Uli's brow furrowed in concern. "What is the matter? By the looks of it you lost all memory of Hyrule during that fall."
Eragon shook his head. Despite his last year's adventure through Alagaesia while traveling to the Varden and having to pose as someone else the entire way, a part of him still despised the falsities of lying, no matter how necessary it was to his and Saphira's continued freedom and survival. Since he had never heard of Hyrule, then perhaps this healer had never heard of Alagaesia. Or Galbatorix and his desire for the land's last great Dragon Rider.
"I am not from Hyrule, nor have I heard of it before today," he responded slowly. "My name is Eragon, and I hail from the land of Alagaesia. That storm must have blown Saphira off course when we were flying to a friend of ours."
"Really?" Uli asked in surprise. "Well, I suppose it's not that strange. Hyrulians tend to not stray too far from their borders and much of the surrounding land that encircles our kingdom is too rugged to fully explore, not to mention travel past. Besides, humans are not native to Hyrule, and we must have originated from one of those unknown nations. But your pointed ears mark you as a Hylian, Eragon. And never before have I heard of a Hylian moving away from Hyrule, never mind a Hylian that has never before heard of this sacred land."
One of Eragon's hands flew up to a pointed ear. He had forgotten of the radical change that had been forced upon him by the dragon-spirit at the Blood-Oath Ceremony. Thankfully, Uli did not seem to understand the significance of his ears. She had mistaken him for a Hylian, a race that must be similar to elves or human Shur'tugal. Eragon couldn't help but feel a pang of hurt at the mistaken identity; even the Varden members that idolized him so knew him to be human at one point. Being considered something different had been an event that had never occurred before today.
"Rest assured, I am a human just like you. I'm just... slightly different." An understatement if he ever heard one, but it was partly true nonetheless. Once Eragon had been human, and had it not been for the drastic alterations to his appearance he still would have clearly resembled one.
Uli shrugged, blue eyes dark with suspicion. "If you say so," was her mild reply.
Eragon shifted in his bed, meaning to get up and personally check on Saphira and reassure her of his condition. But a sharp whine of protest came from his right arm. Hissing in shock, he reached out to grasp at the pain, but Uli firmly caught his left hand before it could. Eragon looked down, noticing his right arm was bandaged and in a sling for the first time. In his earlier confusion he had forgotten he had even been struck in the first place.
"The impact with the ground broke your arm," Uli said at noticing his bewildered gaze. "The same arm was also glanced by a passing bolt of lightning, probably the same one that dislodged you from your dragon's saddle. It was considerably burned, so I dressed it up in a salve to help it heal. Just don't move," she added sharply when Eragon made another motion to get up. "It took me long enough to patch up the damage you left behind and I'll be damned if you mess up the progress that was already made!"
The young man remained still, officially cowed. He had slayed Shades and grappled with the vicious Ra'zac, but how was he to respond to a pregnant woman that was determined to rule over him during the duration of his healing? Monsters he could handle, but strict healers were a invincible class of their own (Gertrude and Angela were examples of that.)
"Aye, I'll do that," he answered meekly.
Uli got up, moving over to a pot that was simmering over a fire. Reaching for a ladle, she poured some liquid into a bowl and then came back over, offering its contents and a spoon to him. "This Alagaesia you speak of is a strange place," she commented idly. "Hyrule hasn't used such high language in decades."
Eragon blinked. "You mean 'aye' is no longer used here?"
"It is, in the courts of our esteemed Princess Zelda and in the halls of Hyrule Castle by the oldest of nobles that still rigidly adhere to long-abandoned codes of propriety. But we common folk have moved on to more modern ways of speaking. Such as instead of 'aye', a simple 'yes' will suffice nowadays." She handed him the bowl and spoon, chuckling as he tried to sound out the unfamiliar word under his breath. "Are you sure you will be able to eat with that spoon? Your right arm is incapacitated and most people I know have trouble even feeding themselves with just their left hand, not to mention doing other more advanced activities."
The young man shrugged. "I am skilled with both hands. Once before my right wrist was broken I had to solely rely on my left hand. I have no doubt I can do it again." But that was before the days he could use magic to heal his injuries. Such magic was probably unheard of here, and Eragon had no wish to upset this small village with a miraculous healing. For now, he could bear his injuries like a man.
Uli's eyebrows narrowed slightly at the strange statement, but she did not comment on it. Instead she smiled as she noticed her patient was picking at several suspicious-looking lumps in his soup. "Are you a picky eater now too, Eragon?"
"No," he said quickly. But his assurance did not stop his blue eyes from cautiously regarding an unknown chunk of matter floating among the shapes of vegetables and spices. "But what exactly is in this soup. Those yellow.... things are unfamiliar to me." He secretly hoped it wasn't some sort of exotic meat; Eragon did not wish to offend Uli but wasn't about to ingest a soup that innocent animals had died to make. His contact with the lively minds of such creatures prevented him from ever partaking in their remains again.
"That's cheese." She flashed a wicked smile at his startled look. "Yes, Ordon Village is best known for its goats that provide some of the softest wool and juiciest meat in southern Hyrule. And also the best cheese that is used in everything from soup to desserts."
Saphira was not worried about Eragon; her Rider was in the care of a trained healer who obviously knew what she was doing. True, Eragon had been having nightmares, but those had been the effects of a delirium he had been in for the first night in Ordon Village. However, he had now recovered from that earlier turmoil and was back in his right state of mind. Saphira sensed Eragon was now eagerly digging into his first meal in well over two days, and did not yet contact him. She would wait until after he had finished his breakfast and was in a better mood for conversation.
Besides, she was too immersed in her wash to bother with speaking with anybody at the moment. Even if her bathers were arguing and snapping at each other about petty matters.
"Talo, go back and do that spot over again. It's positively filthy!"
"Look who hasn't moved away from that area all day, Beth!"
"Do you have to complain about everything we do, older brother?"
"Keep out of this, Malo! And you stay on your own side, Colin! If the dragon suddenly decides she's hungry she's bound to eat you first and give the rest of us time to escape."
Aye, the children of the village had been recruited to perform the difficult job of cleaning her scales of the filth that had accumulated on them during her stint through the storm and her crash in their spirit spring. They bickered frequently, and their ungrounded fear of her were enough to make her actually want to scare them, but they did massage her weary form nicely. Her only real complaint was how they picked on poor young Colin, the one youth that seemed most accepting of her.
"Stop saying that, Talo!" Ilia barked sharply. "This she-dragon is perfectly tame. Do you think her master would have been able to saddle her if she wasn't? Besides, your parents trust her enough to allow you guys around her. So quit it and clean her properly!"
Saphira had to admit, the eldest of them present, the young woman so skilled with healing, did a good job at maintaining order. And kept them from running away in fright every time Saphira inhaled or exhaled.
The sapphire-scaled she-dragon did nothing to dispel their fears. These villagers had enough to worry about with Eragon's presence and her continued closeness around Fado's precious goats, they didn't need to be burdened with the teeny little fact she was sentient and understood every single word they spoke about her and her Rider. Besides, she had no desire to be bombarded with countless questions about Eragon and their shared past. Saphira also trusted her human not to give away the truth and knew he would keep any secrets she asked him to.
Saphira tentatively extended her charred wing, hissing at the pain the small movement caused her. Despite these villagers' foolish belief that a Light Spirit named Ordona presided over this spring, the water did possess some extraordinary healing quality she could not ignore. Her wing's throbbing pain had dulled to a mere unpleasant sensation, a welcome relief from her earlier discomfort.
"You really are a beautiful creature," Ilia murmured to her as she once again ran the sponge over the she-dragon's head, right at the spot that Saphira loved for Eragon to stroke. "So long as you don't eat the goats or Epona, I'm sure the others will come to see that in time."
We shall see, Saphira playfully thought to herself. I have not even since before that accursed storm and grow quite hungry. Those goats are slim pickings, but enough will fill by belly. Or I can just have the horse and save Fado his dear livestock.
As if sensing the she-dragon's thoughts, Ilia scowled and walloped her over the head. Saphira growled in protest, the action driving all the little kids but Colin away from her with terrified squeaks. Ilia was not moved. "Go ahead and mock all you want, but know will come to regret it if you even think of harming my Epona again."
Slightly alarmed at the girl's obsession over the mare, Saphira quieted. She had not even seen this Epona yet, but Ilia regarded the horse as if she had been the gift presented to her personally by a god. The sapphire she-dragon relaxed again, not even bothering to tease Ordon's youths as they cautiously began to scrub her again.
It is strange how quickly I learned the language of these people. Just a day ago I could not even understand them, now their words come clear to me as the Alagaesian Eragon first spoke to me long before we even learned the ancient language. Or perhaps this 'Hyrulians' do not speak a different tongue at all. I could have easily not been in my right mind that first night, and only imagined they spoke a different language.
Pondering only a short time over the mystery, Saphira quickly forgot the subject as Eragon had finished with his meal and was eager to speak to her. The two shared their recollections of the terrible events that had stranded them in Ordon Village and what plans they should follow.
Both quickly came to the agreement that their wounds should naturally heal and that they should spend some time in Ordon Village before venturing out to the other parts of Hyrule. Not only did Rider and dragon deserve a brief respite from the war in a place that had not even heard of their conflict, but this Hyrule could prove valuable in overthrowing Galbatorix. Perhaps this Princess Zelda could contribute soldiers to the effort, or at least be persuaded not to side with the Mad King. Besides, the pair didn't even know which direction to travel to get home to Alagaesia.
Once the plans had been made, Eragon and Saphira said their farewells and broke off their connection. Not only did the young man need to rest and dodge Uli's questions, but Saphira was in the mood for another round of 'tease the children.' Perhaps she could teach them how Colin felt and eventually make them lay off taunting him, at least in her daunting presence.
Miles and miles away from where Eragon Shadeslayer and Saphira Brightscales slowly recuperated, the celebration of the new dwarf King was already underway. A grant feast of roasted Nagra and dozens of other delicacies had been prepared and laid out for the consumption of all the members of the different clans that had attended.
Orik sat at the head of the table, the war hammer that had formerly belonged to Hrothgar securely strapped to his ornate belt. His lovely betrothed and future Queen, Hvedra, sat at his side, heartily speaking with the dwarf next to her. Ignoring the clan leader that was trying to engage him in petty conversation, the new dwarf King reclined back in his chair, his sharp eyes scanning the halls of Farthen Dur for a certain adopted brother and a certain gigantic she-dragon that always accompanied him.
Eragon had been bound to show up to Orik's coronation, whether to celebrate his dear friend's ascension to kingship or out of loyalty as he was an honoree member of the Durgrimst Igeitum. But the tall and lithe form of the Shur'tugal was noticeably absent among the stockier and shorter forms of the many dwarfs. As was the tipsy she-dragon, drunk with barrels of the finest mead that had been brought out for the revelry, that should have been merrily gamboling about the halls and upsetting everything from tables to clan leaders.
Orik had received a message from the Varden that Eragon and his dragon had already departed from camp and were well on their way to Farthen Dur to see his coronation and sen Lady Nasuada's congratulations on his victory over the other clan leaders for the kingship. The pair should have already arrived, unless they had seriously been delayed.
The King of dwarfs had heard of the storm that had terrorized the eastern end of the Beor Mountains. Reports from the few dwarfs that populated the isolated area had slowly trickled in, speaking direly of powerful winds that had toppled the eldest of trees and had blown the mightiest of Urzhad over the edge of their mountain homes. And of lightning that had scarred the mountainsides and of roaring thunder that had sparked rock slides that had leveled entire forests. Many reports described the storm as the strongest ever, the wrath of Urur, god the heavens and lord of the storms.
Had Eragon and Saphira been caught in such a dreadful storm? Was even the Shadeslayer's formidable magic no match for the forces of nature, what was believed to be the wrath of Urur himself? Were they dead now, their battered and rotting corpses feeding the scavenging Shrrg that roamed the Beors?
Orik shook his head, berating himself for thinking such negative thoughts. He was the King of dwarfs for Helzvog's sake, still high from the recent triumph over his fellow clan leaders for the esteemed position of the late King Hrothgar. Eragon was now among the strongest beings in Alagaesia and Saphira was a master flier, it would have taken much more than one tiny storm to send them to their graves.
Nevertheless, the worry that clawed at him was enough to dampen his triumphant spirits. Orik summoned a messenger to his side, given him strict orders to go to Lady Nasuada and report the absence of Eragon Shadeslayer and Saphira Brightscales and how they were presumed missing in a low whisper. The messenger was also told to send out searchers to scour the nearby wilderness for any sign of the pair, whether they be dead or alive.
When the messenger had hurried to obey his commands, Orik looked up and noticed the Hvedra was worriedly glancing at him. He gave his fiance a comforting smile and once again raised his glass for another toast and called for more mead to be given out, much to the ecstatic joy of the revelers. Drowning out the negativity in a shower of alcohol and partying, Orik forgot about his adopted brother's absence for a short while.
That is until another messenger came back hours later, saying the searchers had found no sign of Eragon or Saphira and how there was a rumor going around that some considered them dead in the storm.
"Urur's righteous punishment against the blasphemous Shur'tugal and his accursed beast," members of the blasted Az Sweldn rak Anhuin were said to be spreading amongst the population. "The gods have obliterated the last true members of our ancient enemy."
Little did the victorious Az Sweldn rak Anhuin clan, celebrating in sick glee over their unexpected 'blessing', know, that the divine force that had been behind that legendary storm had not killed either Eragon or Saphira. The force had simply pushed them in the right direction, ever closer to realizing their true potentials. If this event had ever effected the rebel dwarf clan at all, then it was to only lead them closer to their permanent banishment from the realm altogether.
My apologies for the shorter-than-normal chapters, but right now I'm trying to get the unimportant stuff out of the way and setting things up for the actual plot. I altered the dream sequence from the original version. Originally I was going to have my old version be a EragonxMidna story, but that idea has long since been scrapped. (Midna's going with somebody that better suits her pushy and mocking personality.) At least now there's only one or two boring chapters left before we get to the real story.
Next Chapter: Eragon finds out the divine origins of Hyrule and hears the legend of his great-grandfather Li- I mean the fictional Hero of Time. Also, Arya worries over Eragon and tries to find a way to find him. Oh, and Ilia nags at Eragon for what he 'did' to Saphira.
1. Go ahead and make your theories on the dream. I'm not revealing anything, and the dream is kinda obvious. (Unlike that wierd-ass scene Lanayru gave you after you beat the Lakebed Temple. Seriously, wtf was up with the raining Ilias?)
2. The Zelda series is perhaps the king of fantasy games and even they don't use the 'ayes' and 'nays' (at least not in the games I've played, OoT and TP.) My theory is that the Hyrulean peoples have long since moved past such obsolete language. As for Eragon and the rest of his Alagaesian buddies? They're way behind on on the times :D (Did you see those mines in TP? How's that for technologically advanced?)
3. Eragon isn't in the mood to freak anybody out with his magic and Saphira is fine pretending to be a mere animal, 'cause he's too nice do that and she's too lazy to deal with the hardships that come with it. While they're also staying for a short and well-deserved break from the action of war, Eragon also realizes Princess Zelda may prove to be a valuable ally to the cause. Why not provide Nasuada with some reinforcements while he's out there in Hyrule? Besides, they don't even know the way home yet XD.
4. Forgive me if I screwed up on the Orik scene. I figured that since Eragon and Saphira were on the way to his coronation, he'd be the first to notice they're missing. But the dwarves are always the hardest race to portray (probably because they're always featured in the boring and useless chapters in the books I always skip past. The election part in Brisingr was just too long for me to bother with.) And I. Hate. The. Weird. Way. Paolini. Uses. The. Dwarven! Language! I always have to keep referring to my books and the Internet (thank Farore for Inheriwiki) to make sure I got the spelling right.