a/n: whoops, yunno... i near fergot i had this story up here, eheheh...
Hm?" Eragon was startled out of his thoughts. He turned to find Roran looking at him with concern. "What do you mean?"
"You seem—" he cut himself off, looking unsure if he should continue. "Well, you're not babbling on about how amazing that storytelling was."
Eragon grumbled, "You're still on about that?"
"I was expecting you to be more like Albriech." He frowned, rubbing his stomach where he had been tackled. Eragon hid a grin. "But now I'm not so sure."
Eragon scoffed. "Don't be ridiculous, I've already known about that story for a long time." What he didn't say was that he never had anyone act it out before. There were some paintings in his master's books. And while there were no real dragons, the acting was amazing, and enthralling. He was glad Roran invited him—but he wasn't going to admit that out loud.
"How?"
Eragon gestured, opening his arms wide. "My master collects hundreds of books. His collection is bigger than what your house can handle."
Roran's eyes widened. "That's a lot of books."
"Mhm."
The older boy was quiet for a while before he sighed. "And here I was hoping I'd be able to make it up to you."
And that's what's making him mad.