I do not own The Inheritance Cycle.
I'm beginning to feel really bad about these poor chapters sandwiched wedged between the side stories.
I've been wanting to write this for a long time. Its really, really short, I know- but I like it.
If you can take a moment to tell me what you think, it'd be greatly appreciated.
Enjoy,
Set in the time where elves and dragons fought...


Sorrow

There was no victory in war, the elf thought bitterly, looking at the lifeless face of Dierdre. War is a thief, it takes everything and gives nothing.

Dierdre. The name fell softly onto his lips, and he whispered it once more knowing she would not ever answer to it again. It was because of this war her light was forever lost. He saw her face in his mind's eye, once ablaze with enthusiasm was now yellowed and dim, her lips crackled with blood. Her joy and her tinkling laugh, her wisdom and wit were forever gone from this world. Destined was the memory of her loveliness and grace to one day be forgotten. Her music ended, she would no longer sing the glory of autumn in the high halls of the grand elves.

He sniffled, and covered his face with his hands and wept with despair.

His people did not seem so grand to him at this moment. Savages they were, murderers of their own kind. Hatred ran through their veins like fire, poisoning their tongues and strengthening only their blood-stained blades. They lived for the glory of death, and death strived off their glory. They fought foolishly for riches only to find a black treasure. These were his people, the elves.

Oh, how they have fallen!

Once famous for their beauty and generosity, which was now only remembered in proverbs. His people had lived in towers topped with polished domes of gold and silver and bronze that caught the golden sun in the morning and evening, a glowing light the dimmed sky. There, in the land of Alalëa, the elves once lived watching the twinkling stars, making songs in their great halls, and forged things of great beauty and power. Below their gleaming towers, shone fat vines filled with rich jeweled fruits that winemakers took heart into the making for wine.

While he wept, sweet falls of rain fell onto the ground diluting the thick streams of blood, and soon he was soaked thoroughly. However, the elf did not care, if the rain washed him away into a sorrowful river, so be it. There were things that were far worse, destinies that were far more painful.

After some time he stirred, and he looked at the gentle face of Dierdre once more. With a broken breath he ran his hand over her face, her skin felt like stone so very hard and lifeless. He closed her unseeing eyes with two fingers. With a staggered breath, he bent down and kissed her forehead in farewell. She is no longer Dierdre, he thought with a great sorrow, Dierdre had passed into the veil of stars many hours ago. Then he rose, he clothing dripping with crystalline drops. It was a hard task to walk away with from She-who-was-once-known-as-Dierdre, but he did with a back straightened only by pride.

He walked around a glimmering body of a goldened armored monster, and looked thoughtfully at its horned face. There must be a better way to fight these beasts, he thought as his shoes slashed in dark puddles. But perhaps, the way to fight is the same as it to heal. This world has seen enough blood. Warriors are no longer needed, it is healers that can only make a difference now. He paused and looked towards the sky. But my people shall not listen to my plea. What am I, but a simple elf, nothing of great importance. He closed his eyes and fought back the tears that burned them. Will anyone remember the name of Eragon, when I leave this world? Surely they will not, just as no one will remember the names of those I've loved and lost. He blinked his eyes and wiped his nose with sleeve on his arm, before continuing on. He would find wisdom, knowledge on how to stop this war, to stop all wars, but at the time he would do as he must to exist. His life had ended the moment Dierdre fell to the ground from so high above. She had been the first of them to fly.