Disclaimer - The characters do not belong to me; however, the scenario does. Credit to where credit is due.

Notes - This is my first ever fanfic, and as of such, it has not been betaed. If there are any mistakes, please point them out. I tried to stay as true to the book as possible. Translations for the Ancient Language are at the bottom.


It took him another few days to complete the hall to living standards, but when it was done, Eragon felt a sense of accomplishment. After all that he and Saphira had been through, building somewhere to hatch children of such a majestic race was a great achievement. The inside was now filled with soft hay and feathers, comfortable for the eggs and younglings to rest on.

He had spoken with the Eldunarí about the eggs. Even with the elves and the dragon's experiences, it would be hard to raise over two hundred at once. Instead, they had discussed how many to hatch and how long to wait inbetween each set. They had finally arrived on hatching six each week, or thereabouts. As the hatchlings would grow fast and soon be able to hunt their own food, and basically take care of themselves within a few months, it seemed an appropriate number.

Saphira, how are we going to communicate with them? Eragon was worried about the young dragons running into danger. Saphira had hummed for a moment, head pressed down on the grass.

From what Glaedr has shared with me, as unbonded dragons, their thoughts will be mainly in pictures and sensations. It will be hard for them, being without their parents. She shifted her great bulk along the ground, always conscious of her slightly swelled stomach. After having mated with Fírnen, she wasn't many weeks from laying her own brood. Eragon came up beside her, hand placing upon her right foreleg.

Understood. He had always had Garrow as his father, and while the loss had been great, both of Garrow and Brom at their respective times, he had never grown up without family beside him. I think we're ready.

He looked around in the hall one more time. It would be a momentous occasion; these eggs held the first wild dragons to be born in over a hundred years. Sometimes, it all seemed too much to Eragon, and he was filled with doubt. He only had to think of what they had gone through, though, so steel his resolve.

Scooping some water from the lake a few hundred meters from the hall into a bowl, he sat down. "Draumr kópa," he whispered, watching as Roran came into view. The villagers were rebuilding Carvahall, and everytime he had checked upon his cousin, he had been hard at work. Eragon smiled as Katrina came into view, holding Ismira in her arms. It put him at peace to know his cousin, his beloved and his child were all safe. Moving his hand and murmuring again, the image turned black. Even though he knew it was futile - even if Arya wasn't in Ellesméra, her wards would have kept him from scrying her - he couldn't help but wish he could see her. Being apart from all he knew had been hard at first, especially since Du Vrangr Gata had placed a similar ward upon Nasuada, so no one could spy upon her.

Little one? came Saphira's questioning thought, asking for the source of his sudden melancholic mind. Eragon reassured her with a quick feeling, pouring the contents of the bowl back into the lake and placing it to one side.

Eragon, we have chosen the first six eggs, Umaroth told him. He shook his head, clearing it of thoughts and hurried over to the pocket of space. It was complicated, but with the Eldunarís' and the elves help, he managed to take the six eggs out of the invisible hold, laying them on the soft hay in the hall carefully.

How do I make them hatch, ebrithil? he asked, fingers touching the smooth surface. If he felt carefully, he imagined he could tell slight motions within the eggs.

That, we will do. Place them apart from each other. Eragon did so and took a step back, crouching down. For a few moments, nothing happened. Then one of the eggs to the left started rocking, the shell cracking slowly. It was of a dark purple colour, and was soon followed by the other five. Purple, brown, green, two grey and a blue, darker than Saphira's egg had been, Eragon noted. Saphira moved closer curiously, snout touching the purple egg, before jerking it back as the rest of the shell was broken, leaving a hatchling falling onto it's side, disorientated.

Can you tell what gender it is? Eragon asked widely, reaching out to hold his hand to the little dragon.

Female, answered Saphira, sniffing the rest of the eggs as they broke apart, leaving five more dragons squirming. This one is female too, she nosed one of the grey hatchlings, who keened softly and batted her snout, and the rest are male.

For a moment, Eragon just watched them. The green one pounced on the brown and started to roll around, the dark blue inquisitively sniffing a flower. They had made sure none of the plants were poisonous before they started building.

"Shadeslayer, this is indeed a beautiful sight," Blödhgarm murmured, a few of the other elves murmuring in agreement. Of the ten elves that had accompanied him, all were now present, though apart from the furred one were further away from the hatchlings, near the entrance of the hall.

"Yes. I suppose we should feed them now." He knew that Saphira had eaten meat from a young age, with only cow's milk to supplement her diet. Moving over to the storage barrels in a corner of the hall, he took out some dried deer meat, placing a few strips down. It was the purple hatchling that wandered towards it first, sniffing it then making a sound of excitement, snapping it up. It had been cut into tiny pieces, enough so that they would not choke if it came close to that.

Encouraged by this, the others came forwards, and were soon all happily munching on the meat.

Blödhgarm touched a hand to his brow. "They will still need milk. With your permission, Bjartskular, we will use the spell now." He and the other elves had been working on an incantation that would help with the milk situation; basically, it would just help Saphira make an almost endless supply of the food. It wouldn't take long for them to be weaned.

Saphira gave a light snort in return, but did not contest the idea, continuing to watch the hatchlings. Most were engaged in a rough and tumble game now, falling over one another. I can feel their emotions, Eragon. He wonders why you and the other elves are not on all fours, and are not shiny like us. She drew his attention to the brown dragon who was staring at Eragon curiously. When he noticed he was being watched in return, he gave a tiny squeak and buried himself under some hay. Eragon clapped his hands together in delight, picking up the remnants of their meal. Saphira stayed still while the elves sang their words, a visible shiver moving down her spine.

Someone's walking over your grave, Saphira.

What a foolishly human sentiment, little one.

Eragon chuckled.


Translations

Draumr kópa - dream stare [scrying spell]

Bjartskular - brightscales