Someone asked about what Eragon's Twilight form would be. All I can say is I don't honestly know at this point. I'm stuck between two choices and don't know which one to choose. So you can vote, although my final decision may or may not be influenced by the poll. Should Eragon be a wolf (this choice would lead to a more traditional plot and most likely a Eragon/Zelda, Eragon/Arya, or Eragon/Midna pairing) or should he be a dragon (this choice would lead to a story more different than the canon TP story and the pairing would most likely be Eragon/Saphira.) Or, you can suggest another animal.
Disclaimer: I do not own the Inheritance Cycle or Twilight Princess. Any original material you do not recognize from either source belongs to me.
Saphira growled, pressing the squirming deer she held ever tighter into the ground. The creature thrashed and kicked violently, eyes rolling in its head, frantic to escape and survive another day. Saphira didn't care; she had chased the damn deer all over Hyrule and was now going to sit down and enjoy a well-deserved dinner.
She had been flying lazily over Faron Woods, looking for a quick little snack that would hold her over one the long and strenuous flight back to Alagaesia. She stumbled across this deer by accident and was quite glad she had. It was an impressive-sized buck, large and supple, and irresistible to any dragon. Saphira had dove in for the kill, expecting to catch her prey by surprise and get it before it was aware of her presence. It turned out she had underestimated the stupid creature, the buck had slipped out of her claws at literally the last moment and had fled into the woods.
Saphira had never been one to back down from a challenge, nor would her pride allow it. She had chased her prey throughout the forest, intending to drive it out into an open area where she could swoop down and claim her prize. The buck was smarter than it appeared to be, evading her talons everytime and avoiding clearings that Saphira might have easily accessed. It had been a trying pursuit, but one that Saphira had won in the end.
Now, now, little buck, she said to the frightened deer, you have fled from my jaws for a very long time and have tested my patience and my endurance. But, nevertheless, I have caught you fair and square. Now stop fidgeting and stay still so that I may kill you. You have fought for your life honourably, but you could not best me. Lie still and accept your fate with dignity so that you may die a noble death.
The buck did not seem interested in dying a dignified death. It struggled wildly, bawling pitifully, and tried everything in its power to not die at all. Saphira, her patience at last exhausted, and ended the cries with a swift bite to the throat.
Fine, she sniffed. If you had wanted to die the coward's death, so be it.
Saphira bent down and took the first bite of her supper. The meal had been well worth the long pursuit and tiring struggle; the meat of the buck was among the most succulent and juicy she had ever tasted. The blue she-dragon devoured the meat ravenously, famished by the hunt, soon leaving nothing behind but a meager pile of bones. Finished, Saphira pushed the remnants of her kill away and went about her daily routine of cleaning her scales.
Only later, when she was almost finished with ridding her scaly hide of filth, did Saphira recall the reason she had even went off hunting in the first place. The blue she-dragon had just started on her claws when she remembered that her Rider was patiently awaiting her return.
Eragon!
Saphira's head snapped up, at last becoming aware of her surroundings. The sky, once a deep sapphire-blue, was now a soft purple. The forest was now shrouded in velvety shadows, which heralded the arrival of the rapidly approaching night. Saphira, beginning to panic, casted her mind out in search of her Rider. She detected neither the presence of Eragon, nor any nearby human settlements. She only felt the minds of the daytime beings as they scurried back to their nests and hideaways, giving away to the nocturnal creatures as they woke up and began their nightly prowls.
Saphira cursed. She scrambled up onto all fours, snapping her wings out in preparation for flight.
How could she have forgotten Eragon like that? He had been anxious to return home, worried about terrible things that might have happened in his absence. Saphira had promised she would be gone only for a short while to fill her belly with a decent meat that would sustain her for a while. Swearing she would be back by midday, she had left Eragon in the clearing outside Ordon Village, where he was patiently awaiting her return. Was he still out there now, his head craned upward to the darkening sky, expecting to see her? Had he given up? Or, gods forbid, what if Eragon had assumed the worst and concluded she had gotten captured or was too injured to fly?
Saphira was just crouching down to launch herself into the twilit sky when she paused. Hadn't she always scolded Eragon for being impulsive and encouraged him to think matters over wisely before acting? Maybe, for once, she could listen to her own advice.
It was quite late now, and Saphira had been flying all day. By the time she had arrived back at Ordon Village, she would have flown all night without rest and would be too exhausted to begin the long journey back to Alagaesia. What if she slept for a while before returning to the village? If she woke up at dawn and flew fast, Saphira was confident she could be back at Eragon's side by noon at the latest and ready to depart. Food was no longer a problem. Dragons her age only had to eat every couple of weeks, and the buck had been enough to last her a good while. All she needed was a good night's rest and she'd be ready to go.
Had she been only a few months younger, Saphira would not have seen this sensible. No, she'd take off the moment she remembered her forgotten Rider, and return to him as soon as possible, regardless of the consequences. But the she-dragon had had some wisdom knocked into her by Glaedr, and, for the first time, Saphira swallowed her guilt and pledged she would begin the flight back to Ordon Village first thing in the morning.
Folding her wings neatly against her sides, Saphira curled up where she stood, uncaring of whether she was sleeping on the open. She was the biggest and most dangerous creature in these woods, not to mention the only sentient one within five leagues, and had nothing to fear. The great blue she-dragon closed her eyes, and allowed herself to entertain thoughts of Eragon as she drifted off to sleep.
Eragon was different from the others. From the moment she had first encountered him, she knew he alone was worthy to become her Dragon Rider. He was courageous, stood up for what he believed in, and cared strongly for others. It was almost as if Eragon had been born a hero, ready to prove himself the moment he was given the oppurtunity.
But, like all humans, Eragon was far from perfect. He was impulsive, often choosing to act before his common sense caught up to him, which almost aways resulted in dire consquences. He had a proud streak and a brash mouth that got him into trouble and made enemies out of potential allies (like Vanir). Finally, Eragon was the most stubborn and impatient person Saphira had ever had the misfortune of meeting. He refused to yield even in the most delicate of situations, unknowing when it was wise to cut ones losses and compromise.
But, as Saphira was proud to note, Eragon was beginning to mature. Wisdom from past experiences gave him the caution to temper his impulsiveness. Humility had been knocked into by Brom and Oromis (or beaten into him, in the case of Vanir) that curtailed his proud tongue and deflated his (somewhat) large head. Experience had also taught Eragon the virtues of patience and compromise, both essential qualities for one immersed in politics, even if was against his will.
The Eragon Saphira knew today was much different from the one that had unwisely wandered into Yazuac and had almost gotten himself killed by a group of Kull. She trusted he would no longer blindly charge into danger nor offend someone important with that mouth of his.
He had grown up, and Saphira (who was loathe to admit it to anyone, even to her own Rider) loved this new wise and mature Eragon more than the one she had hatched for, if such a thing was even possible.
Eragon, Ilia, and Colin all stood in the waters of Ordon Spring, tending to Epona.
The great roan mare had gotten heavily scratched by thorns and briers during the wild gallop through Faron Woods, and had returned to Ordon Village quite late the previous evening quite spooked by her traumatizing experience of staying out in the forest alone. While it normally would have taken hours for Ilia to calm Epona down enough to be caught, Eragon lent a helping hand and soothed the horse with his mind and took a hold of its bridle for her. Thinking that Eragon had a knack for animals and that Epona truly had forgiven him, Ilia decided not to yell at him. Instead, she had only chastised him and gave him the opportunity to help fix his careless mistake and "earn both my and Epona's full forgiveness."
Eragon jumped at the chance of redeeming himself in Ilia's eyes, wishing to leave on good terms with everyone in the village. He and Colin aided Ilia in her mission to make the mare's coat shine like a new copper coin, even putting up to her regular criticisms and bossy orders on how Epona was to be cleaned.
The other children had safely arrived back at Ordon Village late last night. Rusl had just been setting off to search for the missing kids when he had encountered Eragon escorting the exhausted youths back home. While the parents had been grateful and relieved to have their children back, they were furious that they all had wandered off into Faron Woods alone and had almost gotten themselves killed. All except Colin were grounded, confined to their houses until further notice. Eragon didn't mind; he rather enjoyed the quiet that was certainly impossible to achieve when all the children were present.
"Eragon, you missed a thorn." Ilia reached over and picked a tiny thorn out of Epona's mane. "Goddesses, Epona certainly won't forgive you if you keep missing all the thorns you got ensnared in her poor mane."
Eragon sighed, having difficulty to keep the bemused smile off of his face. Ilia's scolding remarks reminded him an awful lot of Brom's, and it was hard to not keep imaging the blond-haired girl with a long silver beard and a wrinkled face. He glanced up again toward the sky, hoping to see a familiar blob approaching him, but was disappointed to find the sky empty of all but a few clouds.
Thud thud. Thud thud.
Colin looked up from where he was brushing Epona's mane, confused. He and the others listened intently, silently.
Thud thud. Thud thud.
Ilia's brow furrowed, blue eyes alight with confusion. "Is that...thunder?"
Eragon's eyes narrowed, his pointed ears trained solely on the sound. "No...it's getting closer."
THUD THUD. THUD THUD.
The ground beneath them began to tremble, and the sound became so loud it rattled his bones. Epona snorted wearily, rolling eyes locked on the entrance to the spring. Eragon subconciously reached for his sword, cursing silently when he remembered that he had left the blade's mangled remains in the saddlebag.
Moments later, monstrous boars charged into Ordon Spring. They were larger than Epona, dark-colored with gleaming little red eyes. Astride the two brutes, were four riders, a pair to each bore. The strange riders were green-skinned and had two horns upon their heads, heavily reminding Eragon of small and scrawny Urgals. They surveyed the three humans coldly, one of the creatures upon each of the boars raising a strung quiver aimed at the small group.
Ilia and Colin turned to flee, while Eragon quickly summoned his magic to launch a counterattack. One of the riders loosed its arrow, the tip catching the blond-haired girl in the leg. Ilia fell with a pained cry, crashing into the water.
Enraged, Eragon mustered up all of his magical energy. He channeled all of that power onto a single focal point, the creature that had harmed Ilia, and said the first words torturous of magic that came to mind.
"Dey-"
Before he could complete his spell, a third boar also carrying a rider upon its bristly back, creapt up behind him. The creature struck him sharply with his club, catching him by surprise and knocking him unconscious. Staggering, Eragon remained awake for only a moment more before collapsing into the spring.
The newcomer was much larger, heavier, and squatter than his fellow companions. He was the only one astride his mount, which was bigger than the other boars and a gray-blue instead of dark brown. This creature glanced toward his inferiors, noting with satisfaction that they had loaded the now-unconscious Ilia and Colin onto their saddles and where ready to depart. Paying no attention to the youth that lay crumpled by his boar's hooves, the Bulbin King raised his horn to the clear blue sky and let loose a single, chilling note. His mission complete, the Bulbin King and his raiders thundered away with their prizes.
Several moments later, a groan issued from the figure of Eragon. The Dragon Rider blinked open his blue eyes, dazed and confused as to why he was lying in the middle of the spring. Suddenly, he went rigid, recalling the nightmaric events that had led up to this moment.
Ilia! Colin!
Eragon was on his feet at once, in hot pursuit of the raiders. He was to absorbed in his chase, to focused on the effort of saving the captured villagers, that he didn't notice the terrible things the creature had summoned with its horn. A red and black hole punctured the sky, like a gaping wound in its side. The brilliantly sunny day was cut to an end as a too early twilight began to spread across the world, a grim and ominous omen of what was to come.
Eragon had just rattled across the bridge when he paused, his path blocked by a peculiar obstacle.
It was a black wall that barred his way into Faron Woods. The barrier carried on in all directions, as far as he could see, and, when he craned his neck upward to inspect the height of the wall, soared as high as the twilit sky. Strange red symbols were etched into the smooth black surface, which, like the wall itself, seemed to emanate an eerie yellow-orange glow. Eragon took a wary step back, the hair on his neck rising.
Suddenly, a black hand exploded through the wall, wrapping its fingers around his torso and clutching him tightly. Eragon could only yelp in shock as the black hand plunged back into the barrier, dragging him along with it.
Eragon, now passed the wall, could only gape in horror at the horrific creature that held him captive in a death-grip. All of his training and courage drained away and he could only gape at the monster. Scaly black skin, a mask which obscured its face, and putrid breath which stank of death and decay. Eragon was limp at the petrifying sight, powerless as the demon raised him closer to his mask, ever closer to his end....
Something on his left hand suddenly let out a bright glow. The monster dropped him, shrieking in agony as it raised its arms to shield it from the light.
Eragon moved to push himself up, moving quickly so as to catch the beast by surprise.
Thump thump. Thump thump.
The Dragon Rider froze, sensing an unpleasant feeling running through his body. Confused, he glanced at his left hand, the source of the feeling. The strange mark which had suddenly appeared upon his hand was glowing again, though this time it seemed to pulse with the pain.
Thump thump. Thump thump.
Suddenly and viciously, the disturbing sensation morphed into an unbearable agony. Eragon screamed, unable to endure the torture for much longer. The mark began to became ever brighter and its pulsing ever more stronger, throbbing through his body like liquid fire.
THUMP THUMP. THUMP THUMP.
At last, the pain reached his frantically beating heart. By then, Eragon could bear the agony no longer. Unconsciousness rose up to engulf him, and the temptation to sink into the sweet blackness and escape forever was too great to resist. The Dragon Rider closed his eyes, falling into a dark and bottomless abyss.
After that, he knew nothing.
So, that's it. I purposefully left the ending ambiguous so that you may decide what creature Eragon becomes. Should he be a wolf, like in canon? (The pairing would be either ExA, ExZ, or ExM.) Or, because of his bond with Saphira, should be be a dragon? (The pairing would be ExS, of course!)
Oh, and yes, the Saphira part was completely filler. It does nothing more than explain Saphira's absence and (if you squint) a microscopic amount of what could be considered early one sided EragonxSaphira. What can I say? I totally love this pairing!