Author's Note: A short dialouge between Eragon and Elf. This was going to be the start of a seperate fanfic, but I did not like how it was coming out, so now you get a chapter. Hope it's okay.
A Race Lost
It was that time again. That time to destroy the Varden with verbage where sword-age failed. And Morzan was too happy to help his King tear down that wretched rebellion that a former colleague of theirs had so nicely started.
Like the King didn't have enough to worry about, trying to secure his place on the throne permanently. But maybe this little tale he was about to tell would assuage his Highness' woes, and simultaniously destroy that petty organization.
It was worth a try. And what better way to try than by soiling the memory of those corrupted riders from long ago. They would have no reason to trust the motives of their leader, their founder, after such a thing. And without Brom, the Varden was surely doomed to fall.
Smirking he dipped his quill into the ink and began writing.
'Eragon became the first rider and thus started a new fad in transportation and lifestyle. And one day while these elves were flying over a small valley in the Spine they observed an interesting band of people.
These people were strange to the elves. They fought each other, murdered each, some had an obsessive compulsive need to steal the mates of other males of their race, and when they weren't gutting each other and drinking themselves to death, they spent their free time accousting goats. So the elves approached these people, who called themselves humans-this by the way translates into Bricks for Brains in the Ancient Language.
The leader of the humans was a king, who in a haze of OCD and schizophrenic rage wage war with the elves-not once but three times. Each time he was defeated by their superior spellcasters and warriors.
In irritation and desporate to end the fighting they gathered the lords of the human land and asked them to remove their king, insurring future peace and free love with the elves. The human nobles readily agreed and exiled their king.
For a time things were peaceful, but as the dragon riders watched from affar they noticed the humans were just as vicious to their own kind as before. Perhaps these humans were tempermental an this was just their nature or perhaps it was a type of trauma resulting from the predations of another race. A race dark of eye and shiny of carapace that lived in the surrounding mountains.
And so, the elves in a fit of wisdom and sympathy for these crazy tempermental poeple, decided to temper them by turning them into dragon riders. Thus providing a bunch of lunatics with uber magical powers and firebreathing steeds.
The dragons would keep their crazed riders in check (a claim supported by the fact Galbaorix never became king of Alagaesia) and the humans would gain the ability to defend themselves and cure their Post Traumatic Stress.
And so the Ra'zac after a series of unfortunate events (i.e: volcanic eruptions, famines, plauges, and a zombie outbreak) were used as sacfirices to appease the Gods.'
"And that, that is how it how it really happened." Morzan smiled at his handiwork imagining himself in front of an audiance.
Perhaps, perhaps that would work, and the Varden would crumble, finally. And maybe he'd get a raise in his salary? Perhaps.
No... His brow furrowed as he read it. Something was missing. Something crucial was missing from the story. He plunged the quill back into the ink and grinning began witing again.
"This, this will destroy them. This will destroy their leader-stupid Brom-wife stealing bastard."