Brom

It was true that he didn't receive many visitors, especially after Galbatorix sent his damned Ra'zac here to investigate the incident. Now it had almost become an impossibility to tell stories of the dragon riders, which he used to be so known for doing. The soldiers were hell-bent on sniffing out any dissent, even amongst villagers so disconnected with the on goings of the empire, such as the inhabitants of Carvahall. Eragon visiting him was definitely a surprise. The lad should be reaching eighteen years of age and soon, like his cousin Roran before him, start thinking about settling down.

Brom honestly thought that that would be for the best. He definitely would not wish for his son to become anything like him. Embroiled in war, politics, backstabbing's and betrayals. The way Eragon kept glancing at the door leading to the "attic" was very disconcerting though.

"So Eragon, what brings you here?"

But Eragon was not listening. Instead he was rapidly moving towards the door, that Brom meant no one had any business being near. With easy grace he picked up his old walking staff, and speedily stepped in front of the door so that Eragon was barred from entering the "attic".

"Eragon, what is troubling you?" Brom was beginning to get worried, he had warded that particular room heavily, so that no stray magician from the empire would be able to sense anything of note from in there. But somehow Eragon, who should have no magical education, was attracted to that room like a moth to a flame.

"I need to enter that room Brom".

"I think not lad, did Garrow forget to teach his children common curtesy and respect?" Brom questioned, his voice filled with irritation. Eragon for his part just continued on as if Brom had not uttered a single word.

"I hear her, feel her even., She is so close Brom, you can't deny me this" Eragon sounded deluded, his eyes were full of longing, of something lost. Something familiar to Brom. "I'm sorry Eragon" Brom muttered with regret, and with great speed belying his age and appearance, he brought the staff down in a vertical swing towards Eragon's temple attempting to knock him out. He had to protect the secrets of his order.

What Brom had not expected though, was Eragon reacting with lightning speed of his own, bringing both his hands up and stopping the staff mid swing.

Astounded Brom met Eragon's eyes but quickly regretted that decision. Eragon's eyes were on fire, the pure overwhelming rage pouring out of his person was almost suffocating.

"I said don't deny me this"

With strength that is only harnessed by riders and elves, Eragon swiftly hurled the staff across the room, which also made Brom loose his footing since he had held on to the staff too firmly. "Hatchling mistake" Brom thought grimly.

At this point Brom started really looking at Eragon, and what he saw filled him with not just a small amount of trepidation. This was no green boy who had only seen eighteen winters. This was a man, a man with a purpose and he could not decipher whether it was of a benevolent or malicious nature. For the time being this was not his son, this was an enemy that had to be incapacitated.
Luckily for Brom he was not the only one making horribly obvious errors when taking down an adversary. As soon as Eragon thought his opponent was out of the way he turned his back to Brom and continued towards the closed door. As he was about to rip the door open with his superior strength he let out a grunt of surprise, when he felt two strong arms latch around his waist, and hurl him into the floor behind him like a sack of potatoes.

Brom might have been part of an order filled with the mightiest spellcasters, and warriors with weaponry enchanted to the point that it could pierce any armour in Alagaesia, but he had not forgotten the more mundane way of subduing people with your body.
He quickly tried to get Eragon into a chokehold, whilst he was still dazed from the way he had been smashed into the ground, but somehow the old storyteller still felt himself being overpowered. Even though Brom obviously had more experience and finesse in fighting on the ground, he could not make up for the sheer amount of strength that Eragon somehow possessed.

He of course did not wish to kill his own son, so he could not end the fight quickly in that sort of manner. There was only one choice left and he was sure that this would do the trick.

Just as Brom was about to draw upon the vast reserve of energy stored inside his ring Aren to completely overpower Eragon, he heard something that made both him and his son stop struggling immediately.

It was a combination of two things. First there was the suspicious sound of something scratching the door from inside the "attic" and secondly came the loud voice of what sounded like a young female with a somewhat exotic tint to her voice, who was yelling inside both of their minds.

"Stop fighting like a pair of Urgals' you FOOLS and get me out of this dark, damp room!"

Brom had no idea whatever it was inside the room, that could somehow penetrate his mental barriers and project its voice inside his head, but apparently Eragon knew.

"SAPHIRA!" Eragon yelled with a voice filled with joy and eyes full of life, instead of longing and pain.

Brom was simply to stunned to do anything. It seemed as if all the ghosts of his past were coming to haunt him on this day. Firstly the son of Selena and secondly someone named Saphira like his own long lost dragon. He was still too stunned to even make an attempt at stopping Eragon from opening the door, to what was actually not an attic, but rather a miniature library filled with scrolls and books salvaged over the years.

And in the middle of that room was a little blue dragon.

Before the eyes of the old rider he saw something transpire which was as old as the order itself. Eragon held out his hand to the little creature and as soon as he touched the dragon, a bright flash of light appeared throughout the room and before Brom could blink, both Eragon and the dragon, apparently named Saphira were unconscious.

"And here I thought this would just be another dull and vapid day in Carvahall"

Coming out of his trance, Brom wearily got his footing before walking towards the pair. He looked inside the library and saw the different shining blue pieces of the dragon egg that was covering the floor and the little hatchling.

Carefully like one would a babe, he picked up the sleeping dragon and put it on a chair by the small dining table in the living room. He then picked up Eragon and dragged him into a chair next to Saphira.

Brom himself sat down in a third chair, lit his pipe and began waiting patiently for the pair to come to their senses. He somehow knew that there would be no need to try and restrain his son this time.

About fifteen minutes later, both dragon and rider blearily opened their eyes.

"I think it's about time you start answering some of my questions".

Eragon

"Impossible "the storyteller muttered.

"Just improbable" Eragon countered. He had, after all, retold his world's events in the ancient language and also proven that he wasn't insane by letting Brom probe his mind.

Brom looked up annoyed "So you're telling me that you are from another time and world, but in this world Saphira hatched for you when you were fifteen, not almost eighteen, you joined the Varden, marched all the way to Uru'baen to confront Galbatorix and then died". Brom asked with a hard expression

"In broad terms that is a good summary father" Eragon answered whilst scratching Saphira's head and being rewarded with a content purr from his partner, well what could be classified as a purr from a dragon at least.

Brom's face softened somewhat at Eragon calling him father, having accepted it after Eragon's rather frantic first explanation of the events in his first life. He then proceeded by looking at Saphira suspiciously. "What I don't understand is how both of you were transported back to Carvahall". He took a quick whiff of his pipe before continuing. "You died, but she did not, although perhaps it is simply because of the intricate bond between a dragon and its rider.

Eragon just nodded at what his father was saying. He himself had no idea on how it was possible for any of them to be here, but he was beyond happy that he wasn't alone in this. The first few hours in this new world where he could not feel Saphira in any way, were the most horrible in his life. He looked at his father once more, feeling an overwhelming amount of pity and sorrow for the man, whose own bond was shattered over a century ago.

"What are your thoughts on this Saphira?" Brom questioned.

"I do not know the reason myself, all I know is that as soon as Galbatorix murdered Eragon everything became dark and I could feel nothing until I woke up in that den of yours, and hatched for a second time".

It was a rather weird experience for Brom communicating with a dragon not even a few hours old, considering it took weeks for a dragon to begin articulating any form of coherent speech. The experience was, to say the least, rather odd.

The senior rider looked thoughtful "From what I understand nothing similar to this has ever occurred before, and I did read extensively when I was training as a rider, but the text and scrolls were of course endless in the golden days of the order, so it is impossible to know with certainty". He took another whiff before continuing "in any case, it is for the time being irrelevant as to how you arrived here, the point is that you are here, so the question becomes what will you do?"

Eragon looked around the room before answering. "I have questions as well and they are many, which is why I came to you first father". He paused for a second to get his thoughts in order. "as soon as I noticed the many differences between this world and mine, I knew that I needed information badly before doing anything of note, and I would like to start by asking how it is that you somehow came by Saphira's egg?". Eragon looked at his father suspiciously, the same sort of look Brom had given Saphira earlier. "Like father like son".

"You didn't steal it from me did you?" Eragon blurted out before his father had a chance to answer.

Brom took great offence at this "Steal? I did not steal anything, about two years ago it appeared in my living room in a great flash of green".

Eragon perked up at this. "So the transportation worked this time" he mumbled quietly, rubbing his chin.

Brom looked at his son expectantly, and then in annoyance when it seemed that he was silently conferring with Saphira "what transportation?" he asked in irritation.

Eragon looked up sheepishly, having been totally caught up in his own thoughts with Saphira. "In my world the elf Arya, who I told you about, tried to teleport the egg to you before she was captured by the shade Durza, but it ended up with me instead". Eragon then looked up horrified.

"And since I never received the egg I never went to Gil'ead and rescued her". He began running his conversations with Arya over in his head, and to his mounting horror realized that she must have been taken to Galbatorix since Durza had been unable to break her.

Not even Arya would have been able to keep her secrets safe from Galbatorix, she would have either killed herself before spilling her secrets, or been forced to talk and then killed by her captors.

Both outcomes were enough to make Eragon spiral back down into the same sense of pain he felt when he was forced to see Galbatorix kill her the first time. For a moment he thought he had a second chance to save the once he loved, and already before any battles had been fought, one of those closest to him were lost.

"You still have me little one" The irony was not lost on Eragon that Saphira was now the little one and he the big one. He cracked a small smile before accepting that at least he had not lost everything. Which meant that he would fight even harder to protect what he had left, and who knows, Arya was a survivor, perhaps fortune had favored her. "We must look to the future Eragon and what has been granted us, not wallow in our mistakes and self-pity" Eragon silently agreed.

Brom was quietly observing the emotions on his son's face. It was obvious that he was having a hard time coming to terms with whatever he thinking about, although he of course had some idea as to what was troubling him.

"The two of you were close?"

Eragon looked up, a melancholic smile on his lips. "I was... I am still in love with her I suppose, but as you know Arya is much older than I as an elf, and as such an immediate relationship was impossible". He wetted his lips before continuing. "I was a child in her eyes, but I had hoped that in time we could overcome those barriers".

The unsaid, that now there might never be any time, was not lost on Brom.

Trying to change the subject to more practical matters Eragon asked why his father never sent the egg to the Varden as Arya had hoped. To this Brom simply replied" I could not leave my duties here unattended". Unsaid duties obviously being Eragon, which warmed the shadeslayers heart. It also surprised him that Brom would prioritize his son, which he had never acknowledged, over the rebellion that he personally founded.

"I could not leave you when all of these soldiers and the dark king's other servants were roaming Carvahall". He smiled at something before continuing. "You have a powerful name, plus a tendency to find trouble."

Eragon also smiled at that, he was of the mind that it was trouble that always found him and not the other way around.

Saphira laughed at him mentally "Of course little one".

After some knowing smiles all around the table Eragon pinned his father with a serious stare. "I need you to tell me everything that you can think of that differs between my world's events and this one." He swallowed before continuing determinedly.
"I will not be caught unawares ever again as I was with Galbatorix, I need to know everything you can think of, every rumor and whisper you have heard over the years". After some thinking Brom nodded his assent before beginning his tale of the on goings in Alagaesia.

And so he told Eragon of the happenings for the past two years. How the Ra'zac came asking questions in Carvahall some weeks after the Eggs appearance, but leaving after snooping around for some days. He told his son of how about twenty soldiers with a magician among them came two years ago and made Carvahall their permanent residence.

The bane of the forsworn explained how he had taken every precaution in protecting the egg from the empires prying eyes with the most obscure wards and spells known to the races of Alagaesia. Eragon swallowed every piece of information, especially the ones about how a new rider in Galbatorix's service had appeared about a year ago flying a red dragon.
Eragon of course told Brom who he suspected this new rider was, and his father agreed with him that the son of Morzan was now in the betrayer's forced servitude. A great sadness settled over Eragon, as he realized that Murtagh and Thorn once more had been unable to escape the clutches of Galbatorix.

He listened with dread as Brom told him rumors, that the Varden had been destroyed and the dwarves annihilated in a great battle under the Beor mountains. His breathing hitched, as his father explained that the empire had gotten ever bolder in pressing the borders of Surda and threatening outright war.

He could not believe his ears, when he heard that Galbatorix had ordered the most southern parts of Du Weldenvarden burned in great fires fueled by magic and arcane arts in preparation for what the king had hailed, "an invasion against the last threat to our glorious empire".
He and Saphira both felt diminished as they were told the latest rumor, that the last egg in the king's possession had hatched and a new rider, flying a green dragon was now serving Galbatorix, for somehow they both knew in their hearts that this too was true.

The old rider said that even he was surprised with this new rigorous expansion that Galbatorix was trying to achieve, considering that he had been content with sitting in Uru'baen for the past century. Although he admitted, that with two riders in his forced servitude, covering the empire had just gotten a whole lot easier.

"And if what you tell me is true about him finding the true name of the ancient language, then this whole ordeal has just gotten a lot more hopeless". Brom sat back in his chair looking quite defeated after telling the state of affairs, and also being told the horrifying news of Galbatorix's knowledge of the ancient language.

Eragon looked intensely at his father for a couple of moments before breaking the silence.

"Tell me father, what do you know about the Rock of Kuthian or the Eldunarya"

Brom looked confused for a moment before looking back at Eragon. "The rock of Kuthian? It does sound familiar, but I do not know where or what it is". He paused before continuing. "The Eldunarya I do know of, the mourning sage told me of them before we parted ways, in case he would die and I would be the last rider of old alive".

The son nodded understandably at this information, whilst thinking of a way to formulate his next sentences without the binding magic of the dragons confusing everything. "Let us just say that things might not be as hopeless as they seem, at this place that I speak of, lies a great power waiting for a free rider". He hung his head dejectedly. "It was not enough the last time I fought Galbatorix, but perhaps the power that I speak of can guide me towards another path that will end with the king's downfall". Eragon had faith, for even though Galbatorix had more power at his disposal than him, and the will of magic at his beck and call, he was still just a man reliant on the Eldunarya to sustain his power.

Brom nodded his assent coming out of his own sad state. He himself had defeated several of the forsworn even though he was outmatched. He was very good at fighting against the odds, and this time he would follow Eragon in his crusade against Galbatorix. This time he would not die against those scum Ra'zac, as he recalled Eragon's story of his demise. He would be by Eragon and Saphira's side in this struggle against terrible odds, because he is Brom Holcombsson, bane of the forsworn, and killing mad bastards is what he does best.

He looked towards the window besides the table they were sitting at, and was not surprised when he noticed that several hours had passed. "I think it would be best if we adjourn this meeting for now Eragon and Saphira, the three of us will need a good night's sleep considering these dire talks". A couple seconds of silence followed before his son gave a single nod as a sign of agreement and began moving towards the door with Saphira safely covered inside his clothing. His son opened the door and stepped into the darkened street, but not before turning around to face Brom.

After being undecided on what to say for a couple of seconds he broke the silence "I'm very glad that you are alive father" he said sincerely in the ancient language before closing the door and beginning his trek home to Garrow's farm.

He did not notice the glistening eyes of the old storyteller.