The Rise: An Eragon Story

Chapter Four ~ Du Fells Gedwëy

Sort of what Du Fells Gedwëy looks like. There's more forest and less flat land. Warmer than it looks. Anyway, hope you like the story so far!

Eragon wiped the sweat off of his brow and stood up. Ahead of him loomed a partially completed grand hall. He and elves had been working on the massive hall for almost two weeks now, but even with their great strength added to Saphira's, much more work still remaned.

The great hall was Eragon's masterpiece. He himself had designed it, which had made it a building like no other in history. He had chosen to combine the cultures of all four races: humans, elves, dwarves, and urgals. The massive hall was sung out of beautiful red wood that was plentiful on the island, which they still had yet to name. Intricate swirling designs wrapped all around the hall, with two massive pillars at the entrance. They had not yet finished with the front two doors, but what was already done made his chest swell with pride, as well as Saphira's. The doors were adorned of images of all four races; the elven cities with the Fair Folk running about, the intimidiating urgal villages, the mighty dwarven cities, as well as new human works of art. They showed of war and peace, of struggles and accomplishment. In the very center of the doors, despite his bickering, stood Eragon with Brisingr lifted proudly in the air. Sahpira stood beside him, with her jaws wide open and a torrent of fire billowing out. She had hummed with pleasure when she saw the fearsome replica of herself. The new city of Ilirea was placed behind them, free of it's evil king. The elves had done a wonderful job.

Combining the urgral's and human's culture, near the ground on the building, he had placed smooth flowing river rocks. They overlaped the red wood, giving it a flowing appearence. The elves were in the process of making beautiful tapestries. With the dwarves culture, they had placed many shimmering and sparkling jewels along the walls. The great hall was a truly magnificent place.

~~~~~~~

That night, him, Saphira and the elves sat around a camp fire, telling stories of old. When ever Saphira would release puff of smoke, hum within her chest, or practically anything else of significance, the elves would laugh out loud with joy and praise her.

"Saphira Brightscales!" they sang. Saphira bared her teeth in a toothy grin and laughed deep in her chest.

Eragon sighed and rested his chin on his palm.

What is the matter, little one? Saphira asked him. She already knew the answer through their connection, which frustrated him even more.

A little praise never hurts, she said smugly.

Of course not, said Eragon. She eyed him suspiciously from her side of the fire.

Was that sarcasm?

He smiled and recalled a similar situation that had happened not too long ago.

On the way to Ellesmera, him and Orik had sat on one of the sleek elven boats, listening to the elves' shrieks of delight as Saphira performed tricks in the water.

"Isn't she glorious? See how her scales catch the light! No treasure in the world can match this sight." Similar exclamations floated from across the river.

"Bloody unbearable, that's what it is," muttered Orik into his beard. Eragon hid a smile, though he agreed with the dwarf.

Eragon laughed as he recalled the recalled the memory and Saphira growled softly, but he could feel her amusment.

After a few more hours of laughter and joy around the sparkling fire, an earsplitting crack! pierced the night. Eragon's eyes met Saphira's. A feeling of awe spread through them both.