Eragon I stared at Eragon, disbelieving. Over his mental link with Saphira, he could feel her surprise. But he was sure that was why they had been sent back in time. There was no other explanation.
"What?" Eragon I asked. "are you named after me? I'm not very important. I don't know how you found out about me. And you said Saphira was your dragon. But that's not possible. It's impossible to tame dragons. Dragons are wild creatures. They aren't owned. They kill us. How can she be yours?"
"Now, it's not possible. But it will be. Soon. Do you know what you're holding?" Eragon asked.
"Yes. A white stone, about a foot long. It has a polished surface. There are veins of very light gray covering it. And it's hollow and doesn't chip when I scrape a rock across its surface. So?"
That's exactly what I thought when I found your egg, Saphira, he told her. "Actually, what you're holding is a dragon egg," he told Eragon I.
He dropped the egg and quickly backed away from it. "No! I can't keep this! The dragons will kill me if I steal one of their young!" Eragon I yelled, afraid.
Eragon scooped up the egg and handed it to the elf, who refused to take it. "It is your destiny. You will take care of this egg, and raise the dragon that hatches from it. When he is old enough, you and I will travel among the dragons and elves with our dragons. We will stop the war. You will become the first Rider of Alagaesia. I will help you." Eragon said. "It is your destiny," he repeated, half to himself.
Eragon I took the egg, a new sense of determination in his elven features.