Roran

The last couple of days had been rather odd to say the least. It was just subtle occurrences, but things that one would easily notice, as long as you knew what to look out for. There was his father complaining about Eragon trying to sneak off into town, or him spending copious amounts of time in the woods doing anything but hunting.

If it wasn't Eragon causing his suspicions to go wild, then it was the mysterious frail looking magician named Doran, who had arrived with the soldiers' a couple of years back. Most people in Carvahall were quite content with staying out of the wizard's way, but Roran couldn't help but notice that his behavior had changed rather drastically.

For the past two years the man had been content to simply watch silently from the shadows of dark alleyways, or from behind the backs of the other soldiers, but no longer. Now he was enquiring into the villager's daily life, and asking at every opportunity whether they had seen anything suspicious as of late. Katrina had even explained that she had seen Doran trying to corner Eragon outside of Brom's house, but then from one moment to the next, the magician had simply gotten this "glazed" look and walked in the opposite direction.

Roran cringed at the memory. That was the same day where his beloved had dragged him with her, for what became a rather awkward dinner with Sloan. He doubted that he and Katrina's father would ever see eye to eye on much of anything, but at the very least they both agreed on their undying love for Katrina. It was a good thing too, because Roran really did not want to have an ongoing blood feud with the butcher. "That man swings a meat cleaver like a demon" Roran thought ruefully, all the while imagining an enraged Sloan coming for him, Sharpened cleavers clasped in both of his hands.

Coming back to the problem that was his cousin, he really didn't understand who his cousin thought he was fooling. Garrow had not raised two dimwits, and they were even closer than most families, so of course they would notice that something was off about Eragon's actions. He really hoped that he had not hit his head too hard a couple of days past, when Roran had found him flailing about.

He began smiling at the memory

"Trust Eragon to somehow stumble when standing up straight"

He was brought out of his musings when a small hand began ruffling through his hair affectionately.

Slowly he stood up from the position he had taken in front of the house he and Katrina now inhabited, and turned around to face his better half. "Food is ready Roran, but perhaps you'd rather sit out here all day" Katrina playfully swatted his arm.

Roran simply smiled. "Of course not dear, but I don't know if I dare eat your food, don't you remember the last time you poisoned me"? His princess could only laugh loudly at that statement. "You mean that time you ate those apples that were not ripe at all". Roran just looked at his wife with fake bewilderment. "An apple is an apple, how should I have known". Katrina could only shake her head in amusement. She then took her husband's arm, and like they had done a hundred times already, walked inside their home, together.

Katrina looked up at her husband.

"Whatever it is that has gotten on your mind Roran, I'm sure it will resolve itself".

Roran tried to silently agree with her, but something about all these subtle changes were bothering him deeply. He was just like most of the other villagers in Carvahall, a man trying to make an honest living, with a deep desire to see his loved ones happy and prosperous.

"Somehow I feel like everything is going to change".

Eragon

"I want you to enhance my growth"

They had been going over this particular disagreement of theirs for quite some time, but the more Saphira pressed the issue the more he began agreeing with her. The process of enhancing a dragon's growth was quite simple, and Brom had even explained the finer details. Back before the fall it was a bit of a taboo to magically enhance a dragon's growth, but it was accepted that some riders simply chose to do so, if their dragon so desired it.

Besides, as Saphira had pointed out, she was mentally a lot older than her physical body and she was getting tired of not being able to fly or breathe fire. It would also be a huge disadvantage if Saphira was undersized, considering that they would be fighting shades, Ra'zac and other riders in the future.
There was no question about it. They had both decided easily enough, that sooner or later they would be jumping back into the fray of war.

So despite them both being uncomfortable with it, Eragon began working his magic.

Growing bones, building muscle and increasing the organs capabilities artificially every single day was extremely taxing. Because of this, the pair were forced to go deep into the forests surrounding Carvahall every time they had a session, so that no one would notice the obvious use of magic. The second reason was that Eragon had to use the technique of draining living things of their energy, so that he didn't exhaust his own life force.

The result of this was that every time they finished a session, great patches of suspiciously dead trees and plant life would be left in their wake. No living thing was spared. Insects, brushes, trees and unfortunate wildlife close by would all be consumed to feed Saphira's growth. At first Eragon felt disgusted with himself for creating so much death and decay, but his partner soothed his soul with tranquil whispers and hardened his resolve with words of strength. In time the feeling of all the death surrounding Eragon stopped making him miserable and ready to throw up.

He could not find it within himself to answer whether this was a good or a bad thing.

The two of them being uncomfortable with the procedure did not change the fact, that their sessions yielded results rather quickly. After just a couple of days Saphira was almost already the size of a large horse, so they could easily imagine that it wouldn't be many months before she had closed the gap to her former size. As far as they could tell there were no ill side effects of the enhanced growth, which would have been expected on a less mature dragon, but luckily Saphira was no hatchling mentally. They could only begin to imagine the side effects on the newly hatched Thorn, who had been forced into a mature body.

If Eragon could not be found in the forest, then he was either doing some task for Garrow, or discussing the future with Brom. They still had not decided whether they should fly to Vroengard as soon as possible, or try to find out what exactly had happened to the dwarves and the Varden. He had tried to scry both Arya and Murtagh, with both attempts resulting in nothing at all. He did succeed in scrying Nasuada, although she had to be somewhere Eragon had never been, considering that he could not decipher her surroundings. Similar attempts to scry Ajihad, Hrothgar and Orik were not successful either, but he concluded that they were probably warded against such magic, or in Ajihad's case, dead.

The fact that Nasuada was obviously alive calmed Eragon's mind, but also left him unsure on what his and Brom's next course of action should be. He had no idea what had happened to the Varden. They could only hope that the organization had not been completely wiped out. These unanswered questions made him subtly probe the minds of the soldiers in Carvahall, but they were almost as uninformed as the average villager. Trying to dodge the snooping wizard that accompanied the regiment was also becoming rather annoying. The quick burst of magic that Saphira's egg created when it hatched had drawn the magician's attention, even though the wards on his father's house were extensive.

He was sure that the mage had send word to the capital, and even if he hadn't, then the last egg hatching was sure to draw the eye of anyone keeping close attention to the happenings of the lands with magical means. It was also undeniable that Galbatorix himself had most likely felt the magical backlash, and would be sending some of his pets to investigate.

Said pets would most likely be the Ra'zac once again. He hoped that this would be the case, because he could not find it in himself to fight Murtagh or another rider so soon. For Gûntera's sake, Murtagh didn't even know that he had a brother. The Ra'zac were at the very least an obvious evil he could understand.

Because of these musings he sought out his father's council.

Brom was sitting with a pipe in his mouth and a thoughtful expression on his face. "We might be able to intercept them if we wait at Utgard Mountain or more specifically, Ristvak'baen".

The younger rider could do nothing but agree with that sentiment. From Ristvak'baen they would be able to overlook everything surrounding Carvahall and really most of Palancar Valley as the riders of old once did. It would be an easy thing to spot a lethrblaka coming down to wreak havoc on his home, except this time they would make sure that those nightmares given life did not come anywhere near Carvahall.

And so they prepared.

The last time around it took the Ra'zac at least a month or two before they arrived at Carvahall, which meant that they had plenty of time to prepare themselves. Saphira continued to grow at a rapid pace, and every time they had the opportunity, he and his father would venture out into the forest to practice swordplay, he with Zar'roc and his father with a spare, but still well forged blade from his travels.

The senior rider was definitely no slouch with a sword, and Eragon quickly realized that his father must have been holding back somewhat the first time around. To this he simply replied, "I probably thought you would have learned nothing if I kept beating you brown and blue". Which was true, you had to keep a fine line between going to hard or too easy on your opponent, when training someone in the art of swordsmanship.

Despite this, Eragon still beat his father soundly for the most part. It was just not possible for the human to keep up with his son's unnatural speed and strength, unless he drew upon the vast reserves stored inside Aren.

These were simple times that both of them could appreciate. The quiet before the storm. His father seemed more invigorated and full of life than Eragon had seen him in a long time. He swore that he could even see streaks of brown in his father's silver hair at times, but it must have been a trick of the light.

The days passed by in a blur, and all of a sudden the time had come for them to travel to Utgard. Both riders hoped that they had not miscalculated the arrival of the Ra'zac. None of them felt any great inclination towards spending several weeks at that most dreadful place of Vrael's demise.

They also had to provide some sort of an alibi, considering that they did not know when they would return. Eragon told his family that he was going hunting and would probably be gone for some time, whilst Brom told anyone that would listen, that he was going to see some distant family in Therinsford.

Before leaving, Eragon also made sure to go over the wards on Brom's house one last time, so that no one would stumble upon anything they shouldn't.

They then met up separately with Saphira, who was by now more than large enough to carry both of them.

"That enhanced growth is truly doing wonders" his father commented whilst inspecting Saphira for any deformities. Eragon almost felt insulted that his father thought he had screwed the process up.

Not many moments passed before they were flying amongst the clouds, the two of them enjoying the new saddle that Eragon had secretly crafted deep within the spine.

It did not take many hours before they saw see the great spire of Ristvak'baen in the distance. It took them no longer than a few minutes before they landed on top of the great tower overlooking all of Palancar Valley. Although the place did feel somewhat dreadful considering its history, Eragon could not stop glancing towards his father, who ever since they started flying, had been smiling with silent tears in his eyes.

Both he and Saphira could not for one moment fathom the unbearable pain of losing your partner, but they could almost imagine the saddened man thinking that his own Saphira had returned to him, if only for just a moment.

"He is strong little one, his resolve will not waver when the time comes, so we must simply give him space to grieve"

Eragon nodded solemnly at his partners words and silently began to set up camp inside the tower. He kept stealing glances at his father, who now stood at the edge of the tower overlooking the valley.

As the third day of their vigil on top of Vrael's tomb was coming to an end, two great shapes suddenly appeared on the horizon to the south, heading for Carvahall.