Eragon Rewritten

Prince Eragon of the Elves stared at the wall of his cell. His mind was fuzzy due to the drug in his system, keeping him from doing magic or communicating with his mind. He didn’t know when his tormentor would return to fetch him for another round. It didn’t matter. He would not break. They could throw every kind of torture at him, and he would not break. He was an elf. His will was stronger than his captor’s.

As he stared at the grey wall, he let his mind take him back to the lush green forest of Du Weldenvarden. The home of the Elves, of his people.The memory that surfaced was the last time he saw his father. He was only a boy at the time, barely fifteen years of age.

“Eragon? Eragon!” The young, dark haired elf whipped his head around at the shout of his name by his father. As Eragon watched the King of the Elves draw closer he thought how it was almost like looking into a mirror, except for the eyes. His father, Evandar, had sparkling emerald eyes whereas he, himself, had bright, sapphire, blue eyes.

“Yes, father?” Eragon responded when the king was within a foot of his spot of peace in the branches of the tree outside his bedroom window in Tialdarí Hall. Evandar stopped beneath his son’s resting place, and raised his eyes to find the young boy.

“Come down here, son. We need to talk.” Eragon gracefully leapt from branch to branch until reaching the bottom one, and being the show off he is sometimes he back-flipped to the ground in front of his father. As he hit the ground, the king said nothing, just turning and walking back to the royal home.

“Father, what is going on?” He asked as he followed the noble elf towards the war room, wondering what was happening. Of course he knew of the evil King Galbatorix, a mighty Dragon Rider driven insane by the loss of his dragon Jarnunvösk. His father did not answer his question merely urging him to move faster. As the two elves walked into the room, the War Council already seated around the big oak table stood and bowed to the King and Prince of the Elves. His eyes connected with his mother’s soft, warm brown orbs. She seemed surprised to see him here. Her eyes snapped over to her mates, eyebrow raised questioningly. Evandar simply shook his head.

“As you all know, Galbatorix is gaining power and killing anyone who dares to oppose him. We cannot allow him to gain anymore power. We must kill him. That is what I have gathered you all to discuss.”

Evandar then explained the battle plans. They were to move on Illirea, and stop Galbatorix and his cursed Forsworn.

After the meeting adjourned, his father pulled him aside.

“Eragon, as you well know, I may not return from this battle. If I do not come back, take care of your mother. She may like to put up a brave front, but we both know she’s a softie inside.” The king winked at his son, knowing his mate could hear him from where she still sat at the war table.

“I’d watch your tongue, Evandar, before you say something you regret.” Islazadí quipped with a slight smile on her face.

“As you wish, my darling.” Evandar dramatically bowed towards his queen.

“Father?”

“Yes, my son?”

“I want to fight with our army. It is my duty as prince to protect my people."

“No. Eragon, you are needed here in Du Weldenvarden. I'm sorry, but this is where your talents are best suited to be." Evandar didn't miss the look of disappointment in his son's eyes.

"I have a present for you, though. I was going to wait until your sixteenth birthday to give this to you, but I think you deserve it now. You there!" The king pointed to a servant standing near the doorway.

“Yes, sire?”

“If you would be so kind as to go grab the present I had made for my son from my chambers.”

“Of course, your majesty.” The servant headed off to the royal bedroom, before returning a few minutes later with what looked like a sword wrapped in cloth.

“I had Rhunön forge this for you shortly after you were born. I took one look at you, and knew you had to have this when you got older.” The king handed the covered sword to his son. Evandar watched as those blue eyes lit up bit by bit as the boy unwrapped his present. Soon the young elf stood, holding a hand-and-a-half sword with a black hardwood grip, curved cross-guard, nestled inside a dark blue scabbard. The pommel held a large blue sapphire held by four ribs, that looked like claws. At the end of the scabbard there was a leaf-shaped steel cap. As Eragon slipped the blade from the scabbard the metal seemed to shimmer with an almost flame-like pattern. The boy looked up at his father, his blue eyes swimming with pride

“Thank you, father. I will carry this sword until I take my last breath.”

As the memory faded, tears rushed down Eragon’s cheeks. That had been a hundred years ago, and yet the pain he had felt when he had been told of his father’s fall was still as fresh as it had been then. The Elven Army had marched on Illirea, and the Great Elven King Evandar had fallen on the sword of the black King Galbatorix. Eragon had sworn on that day that he would eventually kill the evil bastard, and he would. He would make sure of it.

The sound of a key scraping into the lock of his cell door drew his attention. Standing there smiling at him with pointed teeth, blood red hair and eyes, was none other than his captor. Durza, a shade.

“Are you ready to release all your secrets yet? Or do I have to invent new tortures just for you, elf boy?” Eragon spit at Durza’s feet as the shade laughed.

“New tortures it is then.” Durza smirked.

After hours upon hours of being sliced, burned, and beat Eragon was returned to his cell with the shade no wiser to his secrets then he had been when he had captured Eragon.

“You will yield all your secrets to me, and the King. I promise you that.” Durza departed with that remark.

 As Eragon drifted off to sleep on his cot, he could almost swear that he was being watched. Every hair on his body prickled with the feeling of eyes on him, but he knew that was impossible. He dismissed the feeling as his visioned darkened, and he succumbed to the release of sleep.