Chapter I of Shadow, a work of fan fiction based on Christopher Paolini's InheritanceCycle.
Every week or so, a new chapter will be published, so stay on your toes for more!
Gïrnięn rose from his bed, yawning. The storm of last night had been a terrible one, and he didn't get enough sleep. Grandfather might be worse off—he was old, and memories of the battle of Urû'baen, now Illirea, still haunted him. Back then he was titled Stronghammer for his prowess with a hammer. However, in his tormented and feverish slumber, he dreamt of it rising in blood and exacting vengeance on him for all those he condemned to death. And that was one he could talk about freely.
In Grandfather's room, Gïrnięn found the old man coughing up phlegm feverishly as the servants tended to him. Hesitantly, Gïrnięn approached. Grandfather's eyes were unfocused and distorted.
"Katrina! Katrina, where are you, my love?" The elderly man croaked.
Grandfather hadn't been right in the mind since Grandmother passed away so many years ago. Gïrnięn had heard his mother telling how Grandmother was the only thing that could break Grandfather. Though years ago he had braved Helgrind, the Boar's Eye, and the Empire for her, he now faced an undefeatable enemy—death.
"Grandfather, Grandmother passed away four years ago." Gïrnięn spoke.
"No!" Grandfather sat up abruptly. "Have you taken her? Tell me! Tell me!"
"My lord, please," a servant began, "retain at least some of your dignity."
"Katrina…" Grandfather started sobbing helplessly.
"Father." Gïrnięn looked up. A large woman, with strong bones entered the room. Her voice was strong and steady, with a hint of song. She turned to Gïrnięn. "I'll have a little chat with grandfather. Please don't eavesdrop. I'll know if you do. Go, wash up to prepare for the parade."
Gïrnięn hurried out the door and dressed himself in his finest clothes. Then Gïrnięn exited the door. A fanfare played as heralds tried to shout above each other. Gïrnięn allowed himself a small smile. The Rider's Parade had just begun.