Eragon stood at the edge of Mount Doom overlooking a large bubbling pit of lava. The ground began to shake violently, and at last he tossed a small piece of silver into the volcano. The object glinted as it fell, dropping into the lava with a plunk and disintegrating instantly. Eragon smiled happily and raced out of the cave as the volcano shook with hatred and anger. As he exited, he jumped onto Saphira, who was waiting impatiently outside. She snorted, but took off and they flew away from the smouldering ruins below.
Once in the air, Eragon once again was at peace. So Angela had been right. Was Algaesia really any better than middle earth? Really, once you got past the giant evil eyeball and the obsessive compulsive Halflings, it wasn't so bad. The men here were quite friendly, and Saphira had another dragon to converse with. Still, Eragon was homesick. His heart ached for those carefree days in Carvahall when he was content to joke with Garrow and listen to stories from Brom, the storyteller.
I miss Brom. And Algaesia!
As do I, little one.
I miss Murtagh, and Arya, and Angela, and even Solemnbum!
He was a helpful little fuzz ball.
So help me, I even miss the Raz'ac!
All will be well, little one. All will be well.
Meanwhile, the all seeing eye of Sauron glared angrily at Eragon and Saphira and yelled, "In battle I was destroyed, but I survived. When my ring was destroyed, I survived. I will survive, and so help me, you will pay Eragon!"
Did you hear that?
I think so.
One more thing we didn't have to worry about in Algaesia.
But still, no Galbatorix.
What is WITH these people?
I have no idea.
So, where is this Stormcrow that we are supposed to find?
I don't know, but remember, first we must frind the Entwives.
Ent-whats?
I don't know, but Arya said that if we visited the elves in Mirkwood, we would find an elf named Legolas who would help us.
To Mirkwood?
To Mirkwood!
Saphira?
What?
Where is Mirkwood?
