Snow fell upon Carvahall shrouding the village in a white sheet. All was serene as the village hummed with a glow of warmth at the hearth. The surrounding trees had shed their leaves as the winter months were fast approaching. Fires glistened in the hearts of homes as night had arrived. It had been seven years since the fall of the usurper, Galbatorix, and the world was slowly mending the wounds of a hundred years of oppression. Roran trudged out of the Spine, carrying two bundles of firewood and his hammer strapped beside his waist. Frosty air departed his lungs as he exhaled. He stared at the village, his home. Admiring it's tranquility, he slogged through the thickening snow towards his hall. There awaited Katrina, his wife and his daughter, now seven, Ismira. Ismira, to Roran's relief, took after her mother's looks. She had dark auburn hair that flowed down her back, a sharp face and amber eyes that had attracted the affection of all the villagers. After exchanging nods to Horst and his sons Baldor, Albreich and daughter Hope, Roran continued on. They were the few remaining who had been with Roran through the war. Finally, he arrived, dropping the firewood next to the fire, he walked towards the dinning room, where he was sure Katrina and Ismira would be. Sure enough, there they sat in deep discussion. The conversation, Roran gathered had been important, but not serious, for he heard Katrina stifle a giggle as he entered.
"My dears," Roran said.
"Father!" Ismira ran to hug him. She smelled of fresh grass.
"Husband," Katrina regarded him with a smile. "how goes preparations for the festival?"
"Well enough," shrugged Roran. "Can you believe it's been seven years?"
Word of Eragon's impending arrival had spread far and wide, not only among Carvahall but across the lands, Teirm, Gil'ead and Illrea. He had not been seen since departing for Vroengard to care for the dragon eggs, in the hope of restoring the Riders of old. Since then, much progress has been made on that front, with eggs being ferried across Alagaesia from humans to elves, to dwarves to the Urgals. If an egg had hatched for its rider, the rider would be transported to Ellesmera and then to Vroengard for training. It had begun with three riders after the Rise, Eragon, his half brother Murtagh and Arya, queen of the Elves, but now the number of new riders were rapidly increasing. Roran never had much of a heart for magic or the like, for it had caused an unprecedented amount of damage in the years prior. Still, Roran was eager to see his cousin after all these years. Word had been sent to him from a sparrow bearing a letter from Eragon. It briefly detailed how the past seven years had been since departing, and how he was journeying back to Alagaesia soon. The date, he had not specified, but the letter was enough to stir excitement throughout the land.
"No.. I can't." Ismira looked back and forth between her parents. She had been told of the stories of old countless times. She had been told about how when all hope was lost, the dragon Saphira hatched for Eragon, and how they journeyed to put an end to the terrible reign of the mad king. Still, it was hard for her to comprehend a world of destruction when her reality was so peaceful. Her mother told her about her father's role in the battle. Villagers still regarded Roran with profound respect and adoration for his bravery in the war.
Eagerly she asked, "Have you heard from Uncle Eragon, father? I would like to meet him."
Roran shook his head and smiled, "He will come, Ismira. I think you'll like him. You remind me of him when he was but a child." Ismira seemed to gleam at the comparison as she left the room to start the fire. Katrina stood up and embraced Roran. Still, after years of being married, her love for him had only grown, and the same could be said for how he felt about her. As the last rays of light fell behind the horizon, Katrina and Roran retired to bed. He had constructed his home after gazing at the Elven buildings in the cities of Silthrim, Kirtan and Ellesmera. The stone stairs led up to a vast space on the second floor. Three guest rooms lay to the right, whilst Roran's study and bedroom were to the left. A central space for gathering could be found upon reaching the apex of the stairs. There, a fireplace, enchanted to glow brighter depending on the mood of the conversation lay dormant. Their bedroom contained a Star Portal as he called it- a gaping hole in the ceiling covered by tempered glass which offered Katrina and him a view of the sky and the stars above. They had grown so accustomed to the view, that the constellations were regarded as old friends to them. The glass had been enchanted by a magician who had once lived in Carvahall after the Rise- the title given to the period of time after Galbatorix's fall. While snow covered the stone roof of the house, the glass remained unblemished by the ice crystals. As the final embers of the fire died out, Roran, Katrina and Ismira slept, while the wind lightly battered the hall.
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The Rise: Eldunari
FanfictionSeven years after Galbatorix has fallen, Alagaesia is in a state of peace. Eragon, having spent almost a decade away from his home, returns bearing grave news of a new foe- The King of The North, who's armies are vast and bloodthirsty. Together, he...