Silvarí was clothed in blackness. Or rather, her eyes were.
She had many methods of trying to wrench her eyes open for at least a couple of seconds, but none of them seemed to work. It seemed her eyelids had been stitched shut. So, after all her mental effort, she began to see tiny stars dance in front of the black veil. That was most annoying to her.
Soon, a sharp figure appeared, clouding her vision from the darkness.
He was a strange being. Dark blue fur covered almost every inch of his muscular body as far as she could see. Great and wise yellow eyes squinted at her with newfound interest. Must of all, sharp fangs fell from the corners of his mouth as if he were a hungry cave bear. Silvarí also smelled a most pleasant aroma, but in just a few seconds, it disappeared, and the smell of nothingness that she was so tired of smelling came back. The muscled wolf figure shifted.
"I come in peace, Silvarí Daughter-of-None. Confusion and madness is ridden in your mind, and you cannot see what will be yours. Please, let me explain further."
"You are a most powerful daughter of he who sired you, and I know in fact he would be most proud to call you his. But you have not proved yourself yet, nor found the peace in mind that you need. We have given you a strong name to carry, so carry it well. We supply you with a town that is humble, but also riddled with unspoken problems. Prove yourself, Silvarí, and you can come home to us. Show us that throughout your confusion, a light will shine victorious."
"I do not understand. I do not know how to prove myself! Where am I? Who are you? …I don't even know who I am!"
"In time, you will."
The shadow wolf man disappeared, leaving Silvarí alone in complete darkness.
Totally unfair. A strange man, or beast, perhaps, visits her in a vision, giving her advice that did not make any sense. What had he meant by life? She had a life, that she knew that for sure. That or she'd be dead.
Silvarí laughed a crazy laugh. She being dead was plainly ridiculous! Also, being the daughter-of-none? She had to have been from somebody. About being described as most powerful was probably the only thing he said that didn't take her pride away. But still, confusion blocked her mind, and she wanted to stab whoever was responsible for locking her away from her thoughts and memories.
All of that she pondered in her head, until the mental darkness faded, and another person came in her vision. The girl had to be around her age, Silvarí figured, but then again, she didn't know her age. Maybe she had an awful concussion, and forgot everything in her past except that part of knowing her name. And the fact that she had never died.
The girl turned her back to Silvarí, her leather dress and coppery braid swinging in unison. She was pretty tall and strongly built for someone of her age. Her coppery hair was curly, even in a braid, and tucked behind her round ears. She was stirring some concoction in a wooden bowl, as far as Silvarí could see. The shady room was filled with a yellow candlelight, so she could make out a small old night table, four small stonewalls that made the room, and a wooden door to her upper right.
Now Silvarí had her turn to look down. Her own form she was scared to see. It felt as if she was seeing herself for the first time. She looked down, and gasped. She had a much smaller, more nimble body build than the girl next to her cot. She had strongly built muscles, and a narrow waist. She was tan skinned, and had long graceful fingers. Her chest and bottom were wrapped in cloth undergarments, but otherwise, she was unclothed. She shook her head, and brought her hands up and felt her ears. If the girl next to Silvarí's bedside noticed her movement, she didn't comment or likewise acknowledge Silvarí. The ears were as round as the girl's. She then reached for some of her hair and found a silky black braid. No, not black, but a dark midnight blue.
A quick image of a deep wooded forest flashed before her eyes, and then disappeared. Silvarí shivered, and without control, moaned aloud. The girl whipped her head so fast, her hair and brown leather dress could hardly keep up. "Father! She's awake!" the girl shouted and hurriedly ran out of the room, slamming the door shut.
In just a few moments, a man and another woman with the same coppery hair as the girl came barreling in. They were not old, as far as Silvarí could tell, but dark circles lined their eyes. The man was tall, and very muscular, and had a brownish color hair with a beard. A hammer swung from his belt. The woman, however, had no weapons or muscle, but only a leather work dress much like the girl's. She also had the same bone structure, so Silvarí was hard-pressed that the girl was their daughter.
"Name yourself. I am Roran Stronghammer, and those who come to harm my family and town will never surpass me. " Roran said. Before Silvarí sat up out of the bed, she looked quickly around for a robe or some cloth to cover up with, but found nothing. There she stood, in front of two strangers, one of them armed, in nothing but underclothes.
"My name… is… Silvarí… yes, that is it. Where am I!"
Roran clasped the woman's hand tighter. "I do not trust strangers like yourselves. What business do you have in Carvahall?"
"I do not think I can be of help with any of your questions. Something has happened to my mind...which I do not know of. What of the events that brought me to this village of Carvahall?" Silvarí asked, but again felt a trouble with how her words came out. For one, she noticed sharp points that were her teeth, or better known as fangs. Secondly, she felt as if she had never spoken before, especially in this tongue.
"My daughter found you by the falls. She took you in, and helped heal your wounds. Nobody was looking for you, but we found footprints upon the upper shore. You have been out for nigh four moons. You are in Carvahall Castle, where my family and I dwell. Your clothes and weapons are in the bottom dungeon, so when you are ready to leave, ask me and I'll get them."
Silvarí bowed her head slightly in confusion, trying to remember those events Roran mentioned but nothing came to her, so she added, "Go where? Where did I come from? What have you done to my mind?"
"We do not know, but that is not the people of Carvahall's problem. We refuse to get wrapped up in other battle. My husband has had enough!" The woman yelled, and stepped in front of Roran. Her eyes glistened with water. Anger, hurt, and confusion swelled inside Silvarí. The woman clenched her fists.
"You found me! I cannot remember as you or your daughter do, so you are lying about something!" Silvarí screamed at the woman. It all came out with a rush of anger that she really did not mean, but she felt better afterward to get that off her almost bare chest. But soon afterward, Roran drew his war hammer and the woman stepped back. Silvarí was ready to dodge any blows, but in truth, the room was too small to miss a heavy hammer.
"You're mad! We have not done anything to you," shouted Roran in a powerful voice.
"What... I don't... stop telling me..!" Then she stopped. Letting all of her hurt and confusion anger Roran was probably a bad idea.
Silvarí, agreeing that what she said was wrong, tried to apologize; honestly, it was probably the only thing that would keep her alive from Roran.
But, when Roran change his glance from her and took a moment to look back at his wife and child, Silvarí darted from the stone room and sprinted down the hall. Roran, and surprisingly the woman quickly bounded behind her. Silvarí was much quicker than them, though, and arrived at two flights of stairs, one reaching up to the next level and one reaching down into a stone dungeon. Roran Stronghammer had mentioned weapons in the dungeon, and weapons that Silvarí had not any idea how to use were better than no weapons at all.
Gliding step over steps, she jumped the rest of the way, which was about ten feet, so she fell in a low crouch. The dungeon was small and held only three unclosed cells, but the remainder was filled with old armor and sharpened wooden stakes. She looked around for a sword, or a long knife, or even a shield, but found nothing that stood a chance against a war hammer. Roran and his wife raced down the last step, and surrounded Silvarí.
She winced, trying hard to remember what the strange wolf being had said. She maybe had a minute left to live, if that long.
"Please, I do not intend to yell. I am not in my rightful state of mind.." Silvarí screeched, and took a rusty helmet in her arms, ready to throw.
Roran stopped in front of her, his breath heaving slightly. "You remind me… of the war. And we don't need another one that would start with the mad like you.. Leave our town, and I'll spare your life. Go."
"I haven't a place to stay. My mind is nothing. I do not have clothes, or food, or water, and I cannot fend for myself if I leave. I just realized it is better to do quickly by a blade then starvation..." She dropped the rusty iron helmet.
"Mother! Father! Are you present?" shouted the daughter, and then she appeared in the dungeon. "Stop! She is not a threat! She is just disoriented form her injuries. Please, do not execute her! I'll watch her, and teach her the ways of Carvahall. Father, can't you see it is my time to be brave as you and Mother once were? If she turns out for the better, maybe she will get her memory back and help us with our problem. You saw her belongings. I know you knoew what she is." Roran gulped.
"What? What am I?"
"Katrina, what is your opinion?"asked Roran.
"The girl is.. no threat in her condition…at least at the present so, I suppose. Let Ismira have a challenge thrust into her hands for once. I'm sure she will, do a fine job. "
"Roran, remember when you defeated all of those Empire Soldiers at Aroughs and Gil'ead? And when, after the fight, you and Eragon were there for Ismira's birth.." Katrina spoke softly, unlike the time before. Her wrinkles seemed to deepen, but her eyes glistened with a beautiful and stunning spark. Roran Stronghammer slowly lowered his hand fromhis hammer in his belt and quickly took his lips upon hers. "It will be all right. We will get through this like last time."
Silvarí quietly spat and on the dungeon floor. She may have been a crazed, mad girl, but kissing was not a good way to show affection in her opinion.
The copper haired girl named Ismira strolled over to her with a stern expression that was not at all surprised. Apparently, her mother and father kiss and confort quite often. She grabbed Silvarí's hand, and explained that she be clothed immediately.
"In Carvahall, do your villagers get angry then kind then romantic?" Silvarí asked, without concern for her actions. When the girl didn't answer, Silvarí slipped her hand out of the girl's grasp. Ismira stopped and stared at Silvarí, like she was a mad, crazy girl. The father is very much like the daughter, supposedly.
"You are impetuous, aren't you! How do you treat thy elders? With the respect you gave to my own parents? Well, not in Carvahall, or you will be executed by my father or anyone just as quickly as you would have been before I jumped in to save you. I believe you are a brave girl, yes, but a good person, no! I also do not know how true your stories are, but I know you really do not have any recollection of the past, so you are not completely lying." She grasped Silvarí's hand again and began to walk up the next flight of stairs from the level that Silvarí woke up in.
"Now that we are calm, I know the perfect outfit for you while you are in Carvahall. You are not to be an odd guest here, so I will teach you all about Alagaesia, and how to be a proper citizen as long as you're here."
Silvarí and the girl climbed the rest of the flight of stairs and came up to large room with a balcony over the town. Lace curtains showered over a beautiful wooden bed, and a small counter to the left of the room that was littered with scrolls atop. Ismira took Silvarí over another door in front of her, which led to a tiny cellar full of clothing. Most of the fabric was made of dresses, but not all.
Ismira picked up a black and red tunic with leggings, a belt, and boots. When Silvarí was dressed in the almost perfect fitting clothes, Ismira brought her out to the balcony, where a wooden bucket full of water lay ready. "Wet your hair, Silvarí," the girl said. Silvarí did just that. Ismira fixed the dark hair in a straight fashion, and applied a red band of fabric to keep it out of the way. The two girls then flowed out of the room and into another hallway, and then to another flight of stairs. The next level was similar to a throne room, she guessed, but the wooden corridors were all Ismira let her study in a short amount of time. Ismira pulled over four levers, and the wooden doors croaked open.
Confusion still riddled her mind and she had so many questions to ask, but seeing the town of Carvahall somehow made things seem more normal. What she saw was several dirt roads, and bunches of brown buildings. Some of the bigger houses were made of the same dull stone as the castle, but a majority of the houses were wood. For the first time, Silvarí wanted to beg Ismira to let her see the full village and talk to the villagers. Maybe one of them would be her mother or father. Maybe one would know where she came from.
"Let's go visit Horst and Gertrude. Both had lived throughout the war, and would be most interested to meet you."
"No…" Silvarí whispered lowly. She was peering through a corner between two houses, and spotted in the far, far distance an old shack.
"Do you see the old shack over there?" ask Silvarí.
Ismira turned her head from right to left, and stared into Silvarí's eyes. "You c-can see that far? Are you looking at Garrow's farm?" she exclaimed.
"Who's Garrow? That's a farm?" Silvarí questioned, and Ismira's eyes grew even bigger.
"Garrow was Roran's father, and Eragon's uncle, but he died from the Ra'zac. That's all my father told me of him. But it is amazing you can see that far! I cannot even make out a speck! I guess you are a special girl."
Silvarí nodded, and started walking down the dirt road. "Who is Eragon?" she asked. She stepped down the last stair and touched the dirt road. She kept glancing at the shack, but it somehow started to get harder and harder to see.
Ismira's eyes gleamed in the sunlight. "Eragon, the Dragon Rider? You must have heard of him. He banished the evil King Galbatorix. He is my dad's cousin."
"Look, he gave me this last spring." Ismira dug in her dress pocket and pulled out a beautiful braided silver ban that should belong on someone's wrist. "You drop it in a pool of water, and inside shows you the beautiful forest of the Elves. Du Weldenvarden. I'll demistrate to you later."
The visits with some of the neighbors of Carvahall went slowly that day. Must of them described the war and of course, Eragon Shadeslayer with his brave Dragon, Saphira Brightscales, and also some mentioned Roran Stronghammer. Not to mention another two Dragons and their Riders. Eragon's half brother Murtagh and his red ruby Dragon, Thorn. Also among them was the Queen of the Elves, Arya, and her Dragon, Fírnen. After the defeat of the evil king Galbatorix, Eragon and his half brother Murtagh disappeared from Alagaesia. Arya remained Queen in the city of the Elves.
Somehow, those names seemed so familiar to Silvarí. In fact, if that was not the topic that everyone in Carvahall talked about from time to time, Silvarí probably could've recalled meeting one of them once or twice before she was warped here. Ismira, also explained many of the works of the village, and how the Dragons chose their Riders today. The four main races, Human, Elf, Dwarf, and Urgal, each were given one or two eggs every seven years. And this year, the second anniversary of the seven-year pact, the eggs would be driven through every part of Alagaesia, in search for about ten more Riders.
Silvarí also learned more about Ismira herself. She was, in fact, about the same age as Silvarí, and had a great heritage. She was kin of one of the greatest Dragon Riders, and daughter of one of the bravest commanders of the Varden Army. She explained that when she was very little, she had visited the city of the Elves. She did not remember anything of it, but as far as she thought, she could faintly make out a crooked, joyful smile of Eragon Shadeslayer. She had grown up in Carvahall Village, and moved to the palace when she was eight. Her father had taught her how to fight, and her mother taught her how to be a woman of the household. Silvarí hadn't a clue on what a woman's duties were suppose to be, but Ismira told her not to worry, and that one day she'd explain and teach her.
All seemed well for that day, but that night after supper when she was sleeping in her old room, she heard a hard knock on her door. In came Roran, followed by his wife. Silvarí had gotten to know the couple from Ismira much better in the past hours, but Roran still kept a close eye on her, which was only natural. And yet, there he stood, his muscles bulging from his work clothes, and his heavy hammer by his side, like that crazy morn.
"Follow me." He said in a rough voice, then he and Katrina turned out of the threshold and left. Silvarí climbed out of her cot, and smoothed out her clothes. She met then in the cold and narrow hallway, and followed them down into the dungeon. When she stood on the bottom step of the stairs and the couple in front her standing next to the rusted armor, Roran cleared his throat.
"What do you know about the problem in Carvahall, Silvarí? You have spoken with my daughter and the villagers." She stood silent and still, and stared at the dirt floor.
"I will leave as soon as-"
"No. I believe we need your help. Carvahall needs your help." Roran turned, and crunched under a wooden work desk. Katrina strolled over to an open cell and walked through the door, and crouched also. Silvarí gasped with surprise. "Why would they need her help?" she thought. Roran appeared in front of her and shoved many pieces of cold metal into her hands. Katrina gently placed a pile of clothing and armor at her feet.
"You showed up in these. They are Elven made, and we think, so are you. Ismira told us of your keen eyesight, and of how fast you ran when playing with Horst's grandchildren. I know of your strength. Although I don't know what you are and do not trust you, I know that you can weild these weapons as a warrior. And we need many warriors for this task."
Silvarí looked down at the pile and noticed two blades. One short and one long, like a sword. A beautifully decorated bow and a sack of iron arrows with goose feather ends also lay in her hands. At her feet was a tunic and chainmail shirt. Greaves and bracers, as Horst had taught her, also appeared in the stack. Even a small shield and a feathered helm lay.
She… a warrior? An elf?
Roran, a hero of battle, needing her help? She just got here and was getting comfortable with her memory loss. Now, it was time to get serious.
"We will train at dawn privately. My daughter, as you probably do not know, is a healing magician. That is how your wounds were healed so swiftly. She will teach you the basics of magic also. You will have to train hard for us, elf. Now go back to your rest. That's an order," said Roran as he pushed past Silvarí, and headed up the stairs. Katrina tried to smile, but it came out as a woeful pout. Then she grabbed Roran's hand and disappeared into the dark.
Well, I wanted to write this long author's note. First of all, thank you for reviews, as I do appreciate opinions on how to write better and some mistakes I have missed. Now, as someone has pointed out, the dragon is starving inside the box. No! I would never, ever write a story like that! I love Saphira (like my favorite character!) and little elf would not hurt a dragon. The dragon is still an embryo incased inside the egg. -and, i know my wording is terrible, as I apologize, but it has NOT hatched, just cracked.
Okay, so the first chapter and many following are very confusing: I am sorry and wish to clear things up asap.
So far: Little elf did not "die" but has started her adventure. Note how much more attitude I use in this chapter. As Little elf, which is not her name, you now know, she did not have a real feeling of life. -like a puppet on strings. And I know that Arya and Murtagh were so OOC, but please, that was just a small beginning! I prologue! - love that word...
Anyway, some quick pointers: Little elf is Silvari, Silvari is in Carvahall as a human, and is ready to start becoming a little more elfish again. -The dragon has nOT hatched but will, to you know who! :) Thanks for reviews, and any more questions, please PM. (I expect a lot of messages *sigh*) But- I won't give out any more spoilers, so don't ask. Also, flames will be ignored. I like advice, but not getting chewed out. -if you absolutely hate a story don't review unless you wish to give HELPFUL info.
And guys, my writing/ grammar will improve. I am a little new and know that it isn't an exception, but pleas be as kind as possible in these beginning chapters that kind've... stink.