What is this, anyway?

This, my friends, is what I started as an 11-year old girl obsessed with Eragon. I know it's not very original, but it's a fun reminder for me of what my 11-year-old self loved to write. :)

Shalom.

Prologue: Arrival

Just fyi, the girl's "musical accent is what we would consider Irish. I hope you enjoy this fanfic. May the wind sing to your souls!

A flash of icy light tore Eragon from his comfortable slumber. The first sensation he felt was surprise, the second irritation.it was the second time that evening that magic, or that's what he assumed it was, had annoyed him. He blinked, getting rid of the colored lights that blocked his vision. A red-haired girl, no more than twelve years of age, sat crouched where the light had come from. She carried a pack, two swords, and an elegant bow. Her braided hair reached to her ankles. Her eyes locked with his, then she collapsed.

He stood watching the girl warily. First the blue stone, now her. But unlike the stone's appearance, there were no scorch marks in the area, only a strange marking that seemed familiar, though he couldn't recall where, until he remembered the marking on the village storyteller, Brom's, ring. Something fell out of her pack, and when he examined it, he found that it was identical to the stone he'd discovered, only this one was of the purest white, with veins of cream. Eragon cautiously approached. Her eyes snapped open. She quickly rose to her full height, astonishing him with the fact that she was almost as tall as he was. She would be as tall or taller than him as an adult. She stared at him warily. "Hello," she greeted. "Hello. What is your name?" "...Miranda. And yours?" she asked in a musical accent. "Eragon." That seemed to trouble, but she rapidly concealed her emotions with a blank mask. "How did you get here?" he demanded. "I- I don't know," she said softly. "We should sleep," he said abruptly. Miranda silently rolled up her bedroll and went to sleep almost instantly. Eragon watched her for a time, noting her obvious strength and agility, then went to sleep.

Chapter One: Carvahall

The next morning's walk to Carvahall was brisk and uneventful. Miranda matched Eragon's stride easily. They spoke quite a bit, and Eragon learned much about her past. She was rather vague, however. In turn, he too spoke of his favorite memories; about the time a vixen fell into Gedric's tanning vat and had to be fished out with a net, the time that he'd successfully hunted and killed his first deer, the joy he felt when the fields turned bronze under his care.

__...__

They reached the village shortly before sunset and made their way to a shop in the center of the village. "Wait here," Eragon told Miranda. Annoyed, she leaned on th doorpost as he disappeared inside. A heated argument ensued between Eragon and someone she could not identify. A woman spoke in soothing tones, then she heard a deep base rumble. Miranda walked inside to see if she could alleviate things a bit. "Not selling to me would be a very bad idea," Deep Voice was saying. The butcher-for they were in a butcher's shop- muttered a steady stream of what Miranda assumed were curses and went into a back room. After several uncomfortable minutes, the man returned with a pile of wrapped meat. Deep Voice wordlessly handed over some coins, at which point the butcher began cleaning his knife and promptly cut himself, staining it with fresh blood. He ignored the wound and continued scrubbing vigorously. Miranda, Eragon, and Deep Voice headed outside with the meat. Eragon said, "Thank you, Horst. Uncle Garrow will be pleased."
"Don't thank me, " Horst chuckled. "I've wanted to do that for a long time. Sloan's a vicious troublemaker, he needed to be humbled a bit. Katrina heard what was going on and ran to me. Good thing, too; the two of you were almost at blows. But who's your friend? You left without a companion, as I recall. Getting sweet on a mountain girl?" Horst asked mischievously, a twinkle in his eye. Eragon blushed. "No, sir, she-"
" I was sent here by my parents to learn how to live on my own," Miranda cut in. Eragon was relieved; he wasn't that much of a convincing liar. "Eragon and I crossed paths, and he guided me the rest of the way to Carvahall. Although," she said, grinning,"He is kinda cute!" Horst laughed heartily, saying, "Well, well, it seems Roran won't be the only one in love this winter!" This time, both Eragon and Miranda turned scarlet. "Nothing of the sort!" Eragon protested. "Speaking of Katrina, though, could you give her a message?" Horst nodded. They talked a bit longer, then went their separate ways.

About ten miles down the road, a farm came into view. Miranda halted. "Eragon, I'm going into the woods. If you wish to visit, I'll be a half mile in. Eragon inclined his head. "I'll meet you tomorrow afternoon. See you then." Miranda nodded in turn, then they parted.

Chapter Two: A New Day

Eragon woke refreshed. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes,he splashed his face with cold water, then ate breakfast, chatting cheerfully with Garrow and Roran. He raced through his chores and went into the woods, saying, "I'm going for a walk. I'll be back by evening." Garrow simply nodded.

When Eragon reached the place Miranda had indicated, he only saw a small campfire with a rabbit roasting over it and a dappled gray filly. Suddenly, a lone figure dropped out of a tree to his left. He relaxed when he realized it was Miranda. "Good afternoon," she smiled. Eragon grinned in return. "Where's your pack? You-"
"Look up," she suggested. Then she swung up into her tree. Eragon did so and was astonished to see a large tree house. He easily joined Miranda inside. "Welcome to my home," she said cheerily. "How did you build this?" he asked incredulously. "I didn't. It's probably been deserted for more than a year."
"Are you sure?" he asked, worried. It's owner might come back, and would likely be angry, whoever he is."Miranda shook her head vigorously. "No. There were spiderwebs everywhere, and it was empty save for a short note."
"May I see it?" he asked.
"Of course!" she nodded, handing him the piece of yellowed paper. It read:

May the one who finds this sanctuary
live in happiness and peace whilst she stays.

Eragon rolled his eyes. "She, huh? So what are men, chop liver?" A small smile graced Miranda's countenance."I think it was written by a woman who grew tired of the fact that everything says 'whilst he stays'. Frankly, I agree!" she laughed. The pair talked a while longer, but alas, evening touched the sky, and Eragon returned home.

Chapter Three: Wyrda

The next few weeks rolled by smoothly. While Eragon and his family finished harvesting, pickling, and canning, Miranda was occupied drying the game she'd hunted and giving the skins to Gedric, the tanner, readying them to be sewn into extra clothing. Eragon often visited her, talking, laughing , and hunting together. When the traders finally arrived, she eagerly purchased fruit, vegetables, and tools she needed for life in the woods. Later it was time for the troubadours to perform, as did Brom, but all too soon, it was time to return to home.

__...__

A strange rocking woke Miranda in the dead of night. She sat up. The stone had rolled off the table. Squeak!

__...__

What's going on? Eragon gripped his hunting knife. Now the stone wouldn't let him sleep? He cursed and began dressing. The stone was going to trouble him no more. He was going to take it far away and bury it, no matter it's value.

__...__

Miranda moved cautiously toward the beautiful rock. A long crack appeared, and a small piece wobbled as though balanced on something.

__...__

A little head poked out, and the body soon followed. There, in a tree house in the middle of the Spine, was a dragon.

__...__

The creature was no longer than Eragon's forearm, yet it was dignified and noble. It fanned its wings; they were what had made it appear so contorted. It had a roughly triangular head, with two diminutive white fangs curving out of it's maw. Its ivory talons were slightly serrated on the inside. It was the clearest, hardest blue Eragon had ever seen; the same blue as the stone. But not a stone, he realized, an egg!

__...__

Miranda tentatively petted the creature's head. A blast of pure ice blazed up her right arm. Fire seared her veins as the pain reached the rest of her body. After what seemed like hours, but was truly only a few minutes, the pain subsided. She sat up, panting, and looked on in growing alarm as her palm shimmered for a moment, then turned milky white.

__...__

The dragon brushed against Eragon's leg. He flinched. Puzzled, he rubbed the dragon's head.Something brushed his consciousness, a breath of wind over his mind. He felt it again, only this time it solidified into a tendril of thought from which he could feel a growing curiosity.It was as if an invisible barrier had been torn away, and he was free to reach out with his mind.He was afraid that without anything to hold him back, he would float out of his body, unable to return, and become a spirit of the ether. Frightened, he retreated from the contact, and the new sense vanished, as though he'd closed his eyes. Again the dragon's mind brushed against his, but now he felt a ravenous hunger. He sighed and got up, returning with a handful of meat, which the dragon disposed of neatly. Eragon yawned, put the dragon on his pillow, and went to sleep. The last sound he heard was the hatchling's contented humming.

__...__

Miranda awoke to see the hatchling watching the sunrise, a sentinel welcoming the new day. The beautiful creature was the purest white, shaming the clouds' brilliance. I live alone,she thought, but the dragon needs to learn to care for itself. I'll build it a shelter in the woods, she decided.She scooped up the dragon, some leather thongs, dried meat, and rags, then set out. She wandered around for a time, searching for a suitable place. She stopped dead in her tracks."Eragon?" she exclaimed. At the exact same moment, Eragon cried, "Miranda?"
"What are you doing here?" she tried, but he said it at the same time. At another time it would have been funny, but it was deadly serious at the moment. "Just on a walk," she blurted.
"With a dragon?" Eragon said skeptically.
"I could say the same to you," Miranda countered. "Look, Eragon, I think that we need to drop our pretenses and explain to each other." Eragon reluctantly acquiesced. "We need to build a shelter," he said when they'd both finished. Miranda nodded curtly and began gathering supplies, Eragon built the shelter. They stashed the meat, lined the hut with rags, and Eragon made makeshift harnesses for the dragons. Amid the goings-on, the hatchlings had sniffed each other, then began enthusiastically playing. Miranda smiled at the sight. They spent a bit more time with the dragons, then lifted them into their hut and departed.

__...__

The next day, the two went to see the dragons. When they looked inside the eyrie, they found that the food was gone and there were tufts of feathers littering the floor. Eragon stuffed in the food he'd brought. The foursome walked about, the two Riders showing their dragons everything they knew of the forest. It didn't matter if the dragons understood; it was the simple act of sharing that mattered.

A smooth routine was quickly established.Eragon would rush through his chores, then meet Miranda in the woods. They would walk and talk until they reached the dragons. Occasionally, they went into the forest alone with their companions.

The dragons' growth was explosive. In the first week, they doubled in size. By the time they were a month old, they stood as tall as Eragon, and soon they would be taller.

As the Dragons grew, Miranda grew increasingly worried that they would be discovered. It was hard to disguise the giant footprints in the snow, and nigh impossible to hide the logs and trees that they sharpened their claws and rubbed against, the bark stripped away by their hard scales. She refused to even consider moving the giant dung heaps that were becoming far too common.

Chapter 4: Revelation

Eragon did not want to show his family the dragon, partly from selfishness and partly from fear of the fact that once the dragon was revealed, accusations, shouts, and fear would be directed at him. Thus, he procrastinated.

It will be discovered eventually, though. I'd rather introduce it than have it discovered. But first, it needs a name. Brom is the person to go to for that; he knows more dragon lore than anyone else in Carvahall. So when Roran announced he was going to go into town to get a chisel repaired, Eragon volunteered to go with him.

That evening, Eragon told the dragon he would be gone the next day. It snorted, releasing a plume of smoke uneasily. He tried to calm it with soothing mental images, but it lashed it's tail, unsatisfied. He tried to radiate peace and serenity. A single word reverberated through the mental link he shared with the dragon. Eragon. It was solemn and sad, as though an ancient pact were being sealed. Eragon. His eyes widened, and frightened, he ran away. He could see that Miranda had had a similar experience. My Dragon.
Eragon.

After Eragon had come and gone from Brom's home, Miranda went inside. Brom looked up, irritated. "What do you-"
"May good fortune rule over you, Rider. Speak in this tongue; we don't want eavesdroppers." Brom's face went white with shock. "What are you talking about? I'm no Rider. And how did you know- not that I am." Miranda rolled her eyes. "If you aren't a Rider, then swear to me that you have never been a Rider."
"I-" A smile touched upon Miranda's lips. "You can't, can you? No one can lie in this tongue; you know this." Brom scowled. "Alright, I was a Rider, once upon a time. But what of it?" Brom paused, then said, " Who are you, to know this? To know so much of the most powerful of tongues? You're no elf-" Miranda removed her right glove and raised her hand. "I am a Rider and a friend." Brom stared, then started whirling around, putting things into a travel worn pack. Miranda smiled again. "Do not ready yourself to go quite yet, Brom. There is another."
"What?! Do you mean to tell me-"
"That there is another Rider here? Yes."
"Who?"
"Use the clues, Brom. Use the clues." Brom closed his eyes for a moment, and she was gone.

Sorry the last few chapters have been long in the coming. Before you go, "the dragon's name isn't new!", remember that I just looked it up in desperation. It means "burning one" in Greek. Enjoy!

Chapter 5: Strangers in Carvahall

Miranda and Eragon returned to see the dragons two days later. Miranda approached her dragon cautiously. It was the first time she'd visited the dragon since it had spoken. Miranda. She shivered. I heard some interesting names today. Perhaps you'll like one of them. She mentally ran through the list she'd overheard from Eragon's conversation with Brom. She picked out a few she liked, making sure that there were both male and female names. What do you think of Eridor, or perhaps Ignothold?
No. Miranda. It seemed to find her efforts amusing. Well, then, if you don't like those ones, there are others. She listed off every male name she could remember, but it rejected every one, seemingly rolling it's eyes laughingly. After running through thirty names, Miranda finally smiled. You're a girl, aren't you?
Yes. After that, she ran through her store of female names. She toyed with Lenora and Miramel, but they didn't really fit. Aadie, Naara, and Alana were also discarded. She gave up, exasperated, then an idea came to her. What if I created a name? She smiled. It was her style- ambitious. Are you Seraphina? Seraphina hummed contentedly. Miranda looked to Eragon. He'd figured out his dragon's name long before she had. "What's it's name?"
"Her name," Eragon said, "is Saphira. And yours?"
"Her name is Seraphina."

Over the next few weeks, Eragon and Miranda taught Saphira and Seraphina to talk. Soon they understood everything that they said and commented frequently on it. Every conversation revealed new aspects of their personalities. Once, Saphira caught an eagle, and instead of killing it, released it, saying, No hunter of the skies should end their days as prey. Better to die on the wing than pinned to the ground.

The day came for Eragon's cousin, Roran, to leave for the job he'd accepted at Therinsford's mill. When Eragon and Roran came to Horst's smithy, Horst had laid some bundles on the counter and a pleasant-looking man was talking cheerily with him. He turned his attention when Roran and Eragon entered. "Roran! I've been looking forward to working with you. And you must be Eragon. I'd offer you a job as well, but Roran got the only one. Maybe in a year or two, eh?" Eragon only smiled awkwardly and shook the man, Dempton's, hand. Under other circumstances, he would have liked the good-natured miller, but at the present he sourly wished that the man had never come to Carvahall. "Good, good," the man said gruffly. He turned to Roran and proceeded with an enthusiastic lecture on the inner workings of a mill. Horst signaled to Eragon and led him outside. "There were two strangers in Carvahall today asking about a stone like yours. No one with any sense said anything, but I could name a few who will talk. If you want my advice, go home as soon as possible."
"Thanks," Eragon said. "Do you know where they are?"
"I didn't tell you about them so you could go get yourself killed!" Horst exclaimed. "Like I said, go home as soon as possible."
"I'll do that. See you next time I'm in town, Horst."
"Goodbye, Eragon."
Eragon walked down the road until Horst went back inside, and then he changed his stride, treading on silent feet. He moved toward some voices. "When did this happen?" asked a smooth, foul voice. "About a month ago. Ask the others, plenty of people know about it!" The voice he identified as Sloan was shaky and nervous. Shade's blood, he's telling them- He resolved to punch Sloan when next they met. "They have been rather..uncooperative. Thank you for your help. We shall remember you." This voice reminded Eragon of fetid meat. He looked toward the voices. Two tall men in black cloaks with silver threaded insignias on the chests. They looked toward him, and he froze. He commanded his legs to move, but they would not obey. "Eragon!" Brom cried. Eragon tried to warn him about the approaching strangers, but his tongue seemed frozen in place. "Eragon!" Brom said again. The strangers hissed, then ran away. Eragon staggered. "Are you alright, Eragon?"
"I- I'm just feeling a little ill, that's all," Eragon stammered.
"You should get home,"Brom advised. "Let me walk you to the road." Eragon acquiesced without complaint. At the edge of the road, something snagged to Eragon's mitten and pulled it off. "Clumsy of me," Brom apologized. As he rose to give Eragon back his mitten, he grasped Eragon's wrist, twisting sharply and revealing the silvery mark. Brom's eyes glinted, but he allowed Eragon to yank back his wrist and pull on his mitten. "Goodbye, Brom," he said, irritated and frightened. Brom walked away whistling a merry tune.

Eragon hurried back to the farm. When Garrow, plowing the fields, was visible, he hesitated. He should talk to Saphira first. He rushed into the forest. When he reached their normal meeting place, he found Miranda their as well, a worried look on her face. He reached out with his mind without comment. Saphira!
I come, was the dim reply. He and Miranda waited, anxious and silent, until the dragons came. Eragon quickly gave Saphira the lowdown. When he came to the strangers, smoke roiled from her nostrils and she lashed her tail. He saw similar things happening between Miranda and Seraphina. Fire! Enemies! Death! Murderers!
What's wrong? he asked, frantic. He put all his strength into the words, but walls of iron surrounded her mind. He winced as she roared deafeningly. Stop it! Garrow will hear!
Oaths betrayed, souls killed, eggs shattered! Concentrating, Eragon blocked out Saphira's thoughts and concentrated on avoiding her and Seraphina's blurring tails. When the opportunity came, he swung into the hollow between her neck spikes where he often rested. He stroked her scales, saying, There's no need to fear. Everything will be alright. Crouching, her rippling muscles bunched and loosened, throwing them into the air. He yelled and clutched her neck, trying desperately not to purge himself. Below, he saw Miranda clutched in Seraphina's talons. I wonder...He could speak to Saphira with his mind, why couldn't he do it with Miranda? He reached toward her consciousness and found her whispering soothing words of a foreign, rippling language to Seraphina. At the same time, her words seemed pleading. Miranda? He felt her tense in alarm. Eragon?
Aye. Are you alright?
If you consider clutched in a crazed dragon's talons alright, I suppose. You doing any better?
I guess so. I'm sitting on Saphira.
What are you thinking?! she cried. That'll strip the skin off your legs as if you were skinning a deer!
Panic rushed through his veins, but he managed to keep his thoughts calm.I guess I'm in for it, then. Saphira is the one who's crazed; I can't reach her. He paused. What's that language you were speaking just now? I couldn't help but overhear you speaking to Seraphina in it.
I'll let you figure it out. Think elves. It's about the most obvious riddle in existence, if you ask me. Eragon groaned, but she was right; anyone could tell you that. The Ancient Language?
Correct. Here's another riddle: What herb cures all ailments? Eragon stuck out his tongue mentally; it was a childish thing to do, but he knew as well as she did that he hated riddles, while she loved them. They went on like this for quite a while, and though Miranda said she stuck to the "easy ones", they all just seemed hard for Eragon, since she was quite good at solving them. They started to drift to other subjects when she said, Look down. Eragon gasped. They had reached the Spine quicker than he'd thought possible. Finally, they landed, though it was tricky for Seraphina, since her Rider was gripped in her talons. Miranda rolled over, groaning.
Seraphina, don't ever do that to me again! I feel like somebody decided to sit on me for eternity. No reply.
Seraphina?
I hear you.
What bothers you so much about the strangers? Why do they frighten you?
Murderers, she hissed.
Eragon's uncle is in mortal danger, and you and Saphira kidnap both of us on this hare-brained journey! Don't you think you can protect us? Why run? she demanded.
Death is a poison.
Miranda changed her tactic, knowing that further interrogation was useless. My stomach hurts from your claws. Their pretty badly bruised, though Eragon's in worse shape than I am. I won't be able to move very well, so I'll need you to clear away some snow. A pile of pine needles would do.
There is no need, she said. Seraphina seemed relieved that she had stopped interrogating her. I will shelter you under my wing and the fire that is in my blood will warm you.
Fine, but I'll need you to clear away the snow. Seraphina cleared away some snow with two swipes of her tail, then lifted Miranda next to her, rolling on to her side to expose her armored belly. As Seraphina draped her wing over her Rider, Miranda was enveloped by welcome sleep. I hope Garrow and the other villagers live...

Chapter Six: Sorrow
Yikes- I dropped my computer and had to rewrite this chapter! Sorry I haven't posted in a while. Hope you like it. May the wind sing to your souls!

Miranda's fear when she woke up was that snow had fallen over her in the night. When she touched the white layer covering her, though, she felt a warm membrane with pulsing veins. That should have been obvious. Seraphina, can you let me out? I want to leave so we can warn Garrow if he's not...
You're not going anywhere Miranda, and I'm your mother at the moment and I'm saying no. Not happening. Uh-uh. Forget about it. Imposs-
I get the point!!
Don't even start with me, Miranda, I know what you're thinking. Miranda started anyway.
Seraphina, Eragon's uncle and the rest of the villagers are in mortal danger. You yourself said that they were murderers. I can fight as well as anyone, and you... You are a dragon! Even a shade would run from you! Yet you cower in the mountains like a helpless rabbit. Seraphina's sides shook with a growl. Miranda hoped she hadn't gone too far. Fine. I will fight. But as soon as you're wounded, I'm going to imprison you in my talons and never let go.
I love you too. Can I get out? I don't want Eragon to get into too much trouble.
Funny. Us dragons are the ones that need to take care of both of you. You're younger than he is!
I know. Can I get out now?
You are relentless, aren't you? I love you. The wing lifted.
Thank you, Seraphina. I love you too. Seraphina hummed, and her wing lifted. Miranda saw Eragon hobbling about on a makeshift crutch. "Eragon, what on earth are you doing? I don't want you overexerting yourself. Not with those legs."
"I'm fine, Miranda. We need to get back to the farm!" Eragon protested.
"Eragon, I happen to know that half the skin on your legs has been torn off. I don't want your legs infected; if it got to bad you could lose your legs altogether. Now, let me get some antiseptic and bandage them." She smacked herself. "I should have thought of that last night. I need some sense knocked into me." Seraphina gave her a hard nudge. "Hey!" Miranda yelled both in her mind and out loud. Any there yet?
Funny. Eragon rolled his eyes and rolled up his pants so Miranda could do her work. She whistled. "Ouch. You need to brace yourself; this will probably sting." Eragon nodded and closed his eyes. Miranda poured antiseptic on his legs, and he immediately tensed, grunting. She did her work quickly, bandaging the wounds with strips of cloth from her inner cloak. When she had finished, he said, "Can we go now?" Miranda laughed.
"You're just as relentless as I am. Yes, we can. Mount Saphira." Eragon looked at her skeptically. "I know it's unlikely, Miranda, but is there any way that you can make some sort of a saddle for her? I don't want my legs getting any worse," he said. Miranda eyed him carefully.
"Can I trust you, Eragon?"
"Of course you can, Miranda, you must know that."
"I'm talking about a different kind of trust, Eragon. Can I trust you not to treat me like some sort of deity after you know my... abilities?" Eragon looked at her in puzzlement. "Why would I do that? But you have my word; I won't treat you like a goddess." Miranda nodded, as if something had been confirmed. Doubt still clutched at her heart, though. I can trust Eragon, she told herself. Still, the doubt remained.

Eragon watched Miranda from Saphira's back in amazement. Her eyes were gray, so different from their normal twinkling brown, as though the wind dwelt there, and her hair streamed out behind her as the wind wrapped its graceful fingers around her. The wind that was around her shot toward Eragon as she held out her hands, yet it remained with her. He felt the wind force itself under his legs and bind him so he couldn't fall off. She quickly mounted Seraphina and the wind did the same for her. As the dragons took off, he asked Miranda, Why didn't you do this before? It would have saved-
You don't understand! Eragon stiffened. Miranda calmed herself. I know, Eragon , and I'm sorry. I was scared, being surrounded by so much wind. It was all I could do as it was... I am completeing my power's growth even now, and by dusk I will be able to control myself better, though the strongest wind will still be testy.
I'm sorry, Miranda. I didn't understand. That made Miranda laugh.
No, you didn't.How about a game of riddles?
Miranda.
I am always in mail, yet I never clink. What am I?
A fish.
Correct. I eat and eat and never stop, yet if I drink I die. What am I?
Fire. Do I seem like I'm five to you?
So be it, Eragon! The teasing in her voice was unmistakable. How about this: If you figure out this next one, I'll quit playing riddle games with you for a month. If I stump you...let's just say you're Deal?
Deal! Eragon said enthusiastically.
I run, I trample, I triumph. My partner rides with ease, defeating his foes. What am I? Miranda paused. I'm making that an easy one on purpose, just so you know.
Thanks. You're a warhorse. Miranda mock sighed.
I suppose I'll have to stick with exchanging riddles with Saphira and Seraphina. I'll still talk with you, don't worry.
Good. The journey passed quickly after that. Miranda heard Eragon let out a wounded cry as his childhood home came into view, torn to pieces. They landed abruptly and Eragon ran toward the charred remains. "Whoa, there, Eragon. You're not digging through the wreckage. I'll find your uncle," Miranda called. Eragon ignored her. Miranda sighed. "Eragon, don't make me get you away from there." No reply. Miranda rolled her eyes and summoned the wind, which obediently picked up Eragon, who was tossing a cabinet, and placed him next to Saphira, who imprisoned him between her front legs. "Hey!" he yelled.
"Eragon, I told you; I'll get your uncle. Now don't stand around arguing with me; it'll give Garrow a lower chance of survival to stay down there any longer than he has to." That silenced Eragon. Working quickly, Miranda moved aside the wreckage, with some help from the wind and Seraphina. When a severely burned man came into view, Miranda yelled, Seraphina! The noble dragon wordlessly moved aside the beam that was between her and Garrow. She picked the man up as though he were a child and brought him over to Eragon, who immediately rushed to his uncle. "Easy, now," Miranda said softly.
"We need to get him to a healer-"
"I'll carry him on Seraphina. Don't argue."Eragon wordlessly mounted Saphira, who was still

wearing the wind saddle, while Miranda mounted Seraphina. The dragons took off and soared toward Carvahall. When they were a mile away, Seraphina slowed, then landed.
What's wrong?
I can't carry you any further, and Saphira's tired, too.You and Eragon need to walk the rest of the way with Garrow.
All right. You and Saphira find a safe place to hide. I love you, Seraphina, she said, stroking the ivory dragon's scales.
I love you too, Miranda, Seraphina murmured, humming.
The dragons soared off to the north. Miranda, still holding Garrow, walked over to Eragon. "Come on, Eragon, we need to get you and Garrow to Gertrude," she urged, speaking of Carvahall's healer. Eragon nodded and started walking briskly. Before he got ahead, however, Miranda saw a tear shining on his cheek and a look on his face that Miranda knew well from her own experience; he was trying not to cry. "It's all right, Eragon," she said softly. He only walked faster. Miranda could have kept up with him, but she respected his feelings and stayed a few feet behind him. When the village came into view, so did Brom, who was shouting, "Eragon!" Miranda saw Eragon falling and swiftly adjusted Garrow so she could catch Eragon. He was heavier than he looked, and Miranda staggered. "Brom? I could use some help here."

Chapter 7: Escape

Readers of Eragon, read the chapter name and do the math. I'm pretty sure you can figure out what it's about.. =) Sorry this took so long! May the wind sing to your souls!

Miranda waited anxiously by Eragon's bedside in Gertrude's hut. He stirred. "Eragon?" she asked. "What?" he groaned. Miranda grinned, he sounded like a grumpy teenager. Which is kind of what he is, she thought, giggling. "Wha'so funny?" Eragon grumbled.
"Oh, nothing. I'm just happy you're up." Gertrude jerked awake from her rocking chair. "Good, he woke up." Eragon sat up. "Where's Garrow?" he asked urgently.
"In Horst's house. It's kept me on my toes, running from here to there and back to make sure the two of you are still alive," Gertrude told him, a touch of weariness in her earthy eyes. Eragon sat up straighter. "I have to go see him!" Miranda pushed him back down.
"Oh, no you don't, not without eating something first. Your fever only broke last night."
"How long have I been asleep?" he asked.
"Three days... That's quite a scar on your palm," Gertrude remarked. Eragon groaned. That meant he hadn't eaten in four or five. Then he figured out what she'd said and his mind raced in alarm. "Where'd you get it?" Gertrude inquired. Eragon ran through several possible scenarios and chose the simplest one. "I've had it ever since I can remember. I never asked Garrow where it came from." He thought tiredly of the events that had befallen him while Gertrude made soup. He eagerly gulped it down, then had a second bowl. When he had finished, he said, "Can I see Garrow now?"
Gertrude sighed. "You never give up, do you? All right, you can go see him." She and Miranda respectfully turned their backs while he got dressed. When he had finished, Miranda held out a gloved hand to help him up. Gertrude watched while he took a few steps, then observed dryly, "Well, at least you won't have to crawl there." They walked slowly to Horst's magnificent house on account of Eragon's wounded legs. Elain, Horst's wife, greeted them at the door. Rubbing her belly, several months pregnant. "Garrow's in the room upstairs. Do you need any help getting upstairs?" Eragon shook his head. "No, I can manage."
"Well, I'll be in the kitchen if you need me," she said in her soft voice. Miranda followed her down the hall to the kitchen, knowing that the boy needed as much privacy as he could get with his uncle. "Elain, is there anything I can do to help?"
"Aye, there's a pie that needs to be made, if you can."
Miranda grinned."My father always did say I made a mean pie. I always did love making them!" Elain laughed, amused.

About half an hour later, Miranda was sliding her masterpiece into the oven when a suspicion came to mind she knew she had to act on. "Elain, I'm going to my house. I have some things I don't want those strangers getting their hands on." Elain nodded. Miranda ran outside and raced full speed to her tree house, which was quite fast for a girl of her age and height. When she reached the house, she swung up and became a living whirlwind, throwing her belongings into a pack with panic. I need to hurry! She finished packing and saddled Windsoul, her dappled gray filly. "Run, Windsoul, run!" she cried, nudging the horse's sides. The filly nickered and raced into the forest, faster than most horses. Miranda heard an explosion blast through the forest. Looking back in panic, she saw that her suspicion had been correct; the strangers had set some sort of trap. She started to speak in the wind tongue she'd known since before she could crawl, and the fire disappeared, leaving the surrounding area scorched. Miranda shuddered and turned away. Her steed only increased in speed. She reached Horst's quickly and tethered the horse behind the house. Miranda walked into the kitchen and saw Elain, Horst, Albriech and Baldor, Horst's two sons, and Eragon gathered there. "Why do you look like your home was torn apart instead of Eragon's?" Baldor inquired.
"Because I am the one with the destroyed home," Miranda stated flatly. She silenced their astonished exclamations with a raised hand. "I ran home to gather my things on the chance that the strangers had set a trap. While I galloped away, I heard an explosion. The house was gone, leaving the trees scorched." Albriech made a fist. "They can't get away with this! With a pair of horses we could catch up with them in a few days and-"
"Get that nonsense out of your head, Albriech. They could probably pick you up like a baby and throw you in a tree. Look what they did to the house! We want nothing to do with those people," Horst said forcefully.
"Your father's right, Albriech," Miranda told him. "I've never personally dealt with these fiends, but from what I know, they'd be more likely to kill and eat you. You should stay away from them. If only a Rider still existed to eradicate them...." Miranda said wistfully. Eragon glanced at her in alarm. Miranda!
What?! It's what any person nowadays would say.
Just be cautious.
I always am.
"'If only's' won't get rid of these monsters," Horst muttered. Turning to his two sons, he said, "Baldor, Albriech, let's go saddle the horses." Albriech looked at Eragon. "I'll break it to him gently," he promised. As the three men left the room, Elain looked at Miranda. "Miranda, you could stay here if you like. Eragon, that offer goes to you, too. Gertrude could have her bed back, and you'd be closer to your uncle," she offered.
"Do you have enough room?" Eragon queried.
"Of course. Miranda, go get your things and put your horse in the stable." Miranda nodded and ran lightly outside. When she returned with her pack, Elain led them upstairs. When they were settled, she said, "Dinner's in an hour. Get some rest, Eragon." Eragon nodded. Miranda followed her downstairs. "Want some more help?" Elain looked at her gratefully.
"You never tire of asking that, do you? It would be wonderful if you could help me with dinner."

Sleep came easily that night for Eragon. He awoke just before dawn, jumping out of bed as a terrible premonition filled his heart with fear. He ran out into the hall and was alarmed to see Garrow's door open. He walked inside and saw people clustered next to the bed. Garrow was dressed in clean clothes, his hair was combed back, and there was a peaceful expression on his face. He might have been sleeping if not for the sprig of dried hemlock on his chest and the silver amulet clasped around his neck, the last gifts from the living to the dead. He began to shake. Someone led him back to his room, murmuring consolations. He looked to the sky in anguish. "What god would do this? Show yourself!" He heard footsteps rushing to his room. "He didn't deserve this!" he cried, tears streaming down his face. Elain led him back to his bed and held him while he cried.

Miranda sat in the kitchen. I can't believe Garrow's really dead...I feel so sorry for Eragon. She heard something that sounded like yelling from outside. She frowned as she heard it again. What is that?
MIRANDA! The twelve year old fell out of her chair from the force of that roar. She realized that the yelling had been mental. Getting up, she asked, Seraphina?
Yes, deaf one.
You haven't talked to me in a couple days. Where have you been?
At first, I picked a hiding place a bit farther than where Saphira would have liked, but I pretty quickly saw the wisdom in her choice of hiding. After waiting for two days, we had to hunt.
Has Saphira talked some sense into Eragon? I think we should leave Carvahall; it will only put the villagers in more danger if we're here, but I don't want to confront him and make him more upset. He's a good friend, but... Somehow I think that it'd be best if she talked to him instead. There was a pause.
Miranda?
Saphira?
You'd better run and catch up with Eragon. I just talked with him and convinced him to leave. The poor boy is half delirious. He's at Gedric's. I think you need to join him.
Thanks. I'll go join Eragon in a moment. They broke contact and Miranda left a hasty note with twenty crowns on the counter. Then she ran up to her room, grabbed her still full pack, and ran outside. She quickly saddled Windsoul, putting her pack on top, and sent her galloping off to Eragon's demolished farm with a whispered word. Clutching her bag of coins so they wouldn't clink, she ran to Gedric's. Miranda found the other Dragon Rider cutting down to ox hides. "Eragon." The boy whirled on her, eyes flashing, when he realized it was her. "What're you doing here?"
"Eragon, I talked with Saphira. I understand your need to go; I have that need myself. But we'll do better as a team; you know that. Here," she murmured. She cut down two more ox hides, since she wouldn't be able to employ the wind all the time. She took out an extra pouch from a pocket and put the correct amount of money inside, hanging it from the beam where the hides had been. They jogged toward Sloan's butcher shop and grabbed a pile of wrapped meat. Miranda repeated her method of payment. They went back out to where they'd hidden the hides. They weren't there. "Going somewhere?" The two whirled around. Miranda didn't have to look to see that it was Brom, who happened to be holding the hides. "Give them back," Eragon snapped.
"Why? So you can run off before Garrow is even buried?" The accusation was sharp and biting. Eragon began trading words with Brom again and lunged for the hides. Brom gave them up without trying to stop him. "I hope you have enough meat to feed your dragon," he commented casually. I hope I did the right thing to hint at this to him, Miranda thought, listening to the two men talk. Eragon turned to her. "Miranda, maybe you can do something about this," he hissed into her ear. Miranda shrugged. "I trust him. I'll let you decide whether to travel with him or not," she muttered back. Eragon turned back to Brom with an exasperated air. He talked with Brom for a few more minutes, then turned to Miranda. "All right, let's do it. Come on, let's go to the farm so I can salvage some of what we need." Miranda nodded and cocked her head. "There are people looking for us. Shall we go?" Eragon nodded. They walked the miles to the farm in only an hour. As the charred remains came into view, Brom's eyebrows beetled with anger. Miranda's only response was shock at how fast nature was reclaiming the site. Windsould nickered and trotted to her side. "Good girl," she told the silver filly. Brom's head snapped up as he heard Saphira and Seraphina approach. He started to murmur quietly, but when Miranda approached to hear his words, whatever else he might have said was lost as the two dragons proudly approached. Tears glistened in Brom's eyes, but only one escaped down his cheek. "What are their names?" the old man queried. "Seraphina and Saphira," Miranda answered, pointing to each one as she said the names. A strange expression came about Brom's face. "Greetings, honorable dragons. I am honored to make your acquaintances," he said, twisting his hand in a strange gesture over his collarbone.
I like him, Seraphina said quietly. Miranda smiled and walked up to hug her neck in greeting. Eragon started to rummage through the debris, finding only a small collection of useful items. "Now what?" Miranda inquired at the same time as Brom. She looked at him and suppressed a giggle. Eragon ignored the humor in the situation and said, "We find a place to hide."
"Do you have someplace in mind?"
"Yes, I do." They walked a while before they came to a clearing that was only large enough for a campfire, two people, and a dragon. Miranda immediately set to work clearing more space so she, Seraphina, and Windsoul could fit comfortably. It took her about half an hour, with Eragon and Brom's help, as well as assistance from the wind. When they were all settled and a stew was boiling over a campfire, Brom took out his pipe. "Why do you want to travel with me?" Eragon demanded to Brom. The old man sighed. "Very well, if it's answers you want, it's answers you'll get. To answer your question, I happen to have a vested interest in keeping you two alive. You're the first Riders to exist outside the king's control for over a hundred years. Will you usurp Galbatorix? Will you perish as martyrs? Will you join the Varden? All fascinating questions, and I will be there to see every minute of it," he said. He strode across the camp to where his pack lay and took out a wrapped object, about a yard long, and by the way he carried it, very heavy. Miranda raised her eyebrows, she had a pretty good idea what it was. The cloth came away, strip by strip, until it revealed a sword in it's iridescent crimson sheath. "This was once a Rider's blade," Brom said quietly, passing the weapon to Eragon. The boy slowly drew the sword, admiring the way it caught the firelight. "When a Rider finished his training, the elves would present him with a sword. Their methods of forging have always remained secret. However, their swords are eternally sharp and will never stain. The custom was to have a Rider's blade match the hue of his dragon, but I think we can make an exception in this case. This sword is named Zar'roc. I don't know what it means, probably something personal to the Rider who owned it." He watched Eragon swing the blade. The Rider reluctantly sheathed the sword and moved to hand it back. "Keep it," Brom commanded. "You have a greater claim to it than I. I think you will need it before all is done. Before you ask, I will not say where I got it, only that it took a series of dangerous and rather nasty adventures to attain it. And the symbol on the sheath was the personal crest of the Rider who owned it." Eragon looked surprised.
"It is a princely gift, thank you. But how can you speak with Saphira and Seraphina?"
"Anyone can talk with a dragon with the right training. And," he raised a finger for emphasis, "It doesn't mean anything if they can. I know more about dragons and their abilities than almost anyone else alive. I'm offering my knowledge as a shortcut. On your own, it might take you years to learn what I can teach you. As for how I know so much, I will keep that to myself." Turning to Miranda, he told her, "I don't have a sword for you. I'm sorry, but-"
"There is no reason to be sorry," Miranda smiled, a twinkle in her eye. Reaching inside her cloak, she unbuckled something and revealed a gleaming white sheath. Grasping the sword with her right hand, she drew it, a diamond the same size as the ruby in Zar'roc flashing in the pommel. "This is Vindr." Brom looked taken aback.
"Where, by the Beors, did you get that sword?" he demanded. Miranda sat up straighter. She sheathed Vindr, saying, "My family protected many of the Rider's swords. This is one of many."
"Do you know who's that was?"
"I am well aware of it." At Eragon's questioning glance, she said, "This blade belonged to Na'imah, the first female Rider." At Brom's pressing look, she sighed and added, "Na'imah was the daughter of the first Eragon." Saphira's Rider raised his eyebrows in surprise.
"I see," was his only comment. Miranda looked down. She buckled her blade back onto her belt and reached for her pack. Digging into it, she came up with a set of pan pipes. She began to play a wild, beautiful melody, soothing Eragon's pounding thoughts. Before long, he had rolled out his blankets and gone to sleep, as did Brom, the melody echoing through their dreams.

Chapter 8: Saddlemaking
I know, I know, I stole the chapter title from Christopher P. I couldn't think of one, sorry! Yes, I know there are probably a few inaccuracies, but I wanted to write a certain part in this chapter. Sorry this segment took so long... May the wind sing to your souls!

Miranda woke before dawn well rested. She looked at the two sleeping men across the camp. Chuckling, she asked Seraphina, Men have a harder time waking up with a lot on their minds, don't they? The dragon grinned. Saphira stirred and looked at Miranda. Good morning, Miranda.
Good morning Saphira. Did you sleep well?
Aye. The dragon closed her eyes in silent contemplation of her thoughts. Brom stirred across the camp. He sat up groggily. "Good morning, Brom!" The man looked at her grumpily. "You apparently slept well." Miranda grinned.
"I always do," she giggled. Brom rolled his eyes. Then an odd look came across his face. He glanced at Eragon, who was still asleep. "I know it probably sounds ridiculous, but that song you played last night-"
"Yes. I wanted to talk with you this morning. If I know Eragon, he'll probably wake in thirty minutes or so. More exactly, I wanted to give something to you." Brom looked at her quizzically. Reaching under her blankets, Miranda pulled out a blue sword in it's sheath with a sapphire in the pommel. "I believe you'll recognize this?" Brom reached to take the sword with trembling hands."Where," he whispered, "did you get my sword?" Miranda smiled quietly. "My family, like I said, salvaged many of the Rider's blades. I hope this brings you pleasure."
"Yes. It does. But Eragon has more right to it than I, now."
"I understand, but are you sure?" At Brom's exasperated glare, she sighed. "If you wish, I could send Zar'roc away and you could give Wyrda to Eragon. But that's your choice." Brom hesitated. "You don't have to, Brom."
"He shouldn't have to carry one of the Forsworn's bloody swords. Do it." Miranda nodded, wincing as he mentioned the Thirteen Servants. Going to where Zar'roc lay by Eragon's side, she picked up the sword on silent feet. She picked up the sword, went outside the camp, quietly spoke with the wind, and Zar'roc was gone. When she returned, Brom looked at her gratefully and almost reluctantly placed Wyrda where Morzan's blade had formerly rested. Eragon stirred. Brom quickly sat on his own bedroll. Miranda began preparing breakfast. "Morning," she called when the Rider opposite her sat up. "Morn- what happened to Zar'roc?!" Miranda eyed him carefully. "I thought to honor the old traditions and sent a... message to my family, asking for a blue one. This blade is called Wyrda, the word for fate in the Ancient Language." Brom glanced at her as she mentioned the Ancient Language, as though warning her.
"Thank you," Eragon murmured.
Miranda nodded as the stew began to boil. When she'd finished eating-she ate faster than the men- she dug in her pack once more, this time producing a flute. Eragon raised his eyebrows. How many instruments does she have? Miranda laughed at his comical expression. "Only the two you've seen," she chuckled, as if reading his mind. She began to play a lively tune as Eragon and Brom finished their meals. After breakfast, Eragon rolled out the four ox hides. "What are you going to do with those?" Brom queried. "Make saddles for Saphira and Seraphina," Eragon informed him. Brom came over casually. "Hmm. Well, the dragons used to have two kinds of saddles. One was thick and molded, like a horses, but those take time and tools to make, neither of which we have. The other was nothing more than an extra layer between dragon and Rider. That we can make."

The rest of that day was spent making preparations for the journey ahead. While Miranda and Brom made the saddles, Eragon organized their supplies and fixed his pack. When the final adjustments were made, Miranda checked on the stew she'd prepared earlier, it was just boiling. "Figures it wouldn't be ready," she grumbled. Eragon couldn't resist teasing. "Oh, I thought men were the ones with appetites," he said in a sing-song voice. Miranda rolled her eyes. Fifteen minutes later, she dished out the stew. To Eragon's surprise, she took out neither her panpipes nor her flute, but began softly singing to herself in a strange, yet beautiful language. The notes of her song were mournful at times, joyful at others, but most of the time serene. When Brom had finished eating, he tossed a stick in the crude likeness of a sword to Eragon. Miranda's song ended as she watched in interest. "What's it for?" Eragon inquired. "You need to learn the use of a sword," Brom explained briefly, then, "Defend yourself!" Miranda watched, fighting giggles, as Eragon was beaten repeatedly by Brom. When they were done, Seraphina and Saphira began to make a sound like stones grating against each other in their throats. You're laughing, aren't you? Miranda inquired.
Come, now, you know me well enough to know that for sure, Seraphina replied. Changing the topic, Miranda said, You know, Seraphina is starting to be a bit of a mouthful to say-
You picked it.
-so I'm going to start calling you Sera.
Little one! Seraphina protested. They were unable to continue,though, as Eragon tossed Miranda the stick. "Your turn," he growled. Looks like somebody got a few million bruises, Miranda commented. She picked up the makeshift sword and circled the fire. "Hope you were watching Eragon," Brom grunted. I didn't need to, Miranda thought. Brom launched himself at her, but the girl easily sidestepped. Shocked, Brom began a complicated series of movements, all of which Miranda blocked or dodged. "My turn," she muttered. Her attacks were swift and precise, and Brom had difficulty blocking the elegant swipes of her branch. He simply dropped his stick after five minutes. Miranda flicked her stick up to his throat. "Dead," she stated simply. Confused, she looked him in the eye. "You're a better swordsman than that; I can tell. What's wrong?"
"Miranda," Eragon whispered, "it's your eyes."
Mua ha ha, I'm being Evil Author and giving you a cliffhanger. Don't worry; I'll complete soon!
P.S. Go to alagaesia.com for a special update on The Inheritance Cycle!

Previously: on Shur'tugalar
Seraphina is starting to be a bit of a mouthful to say-
You picked it.
-so I'm going to start calling you Sera.
Brom had difficulty blocking the elegant swipes of her branch. He simply dropped his stick after five minutes. Miranda flicked her stick up to his throat. "Dead," she stated simply. Confused, she looked him in the eye. "You're a better swordsman than that; I can tell. What's wrong?"
"Miranda," Eragon whispered, "it's your eyes."
Ok, I've been watching Stargate too much. Hehehe... Well, here's Ch. 9! I went a little crazy on the chappie name. P.S. Selena is NOT Eragon's mother!

Chapter 9: Secrets R Us

Miranda looked at Eragon, Brom, and then the dragons. "What do you mean?" she demanded. "Well, for one thing, they appear to be- oh, how do I put this- swirling?" Brom said it like he was asking a question. "What's that supposed to mean?" the girl demanded. Miranda was starting to panic. Seraphina, it couldn't be tonight.
I doubt it. Whatever happened to Sera?
Oh, forget about it. It must be the full moon tonight, along with the high tide. She sighed. I miss the ocean. But what exactly are my eyes doing? Seraphina sent her an image that focused on her eyes. They were-like Brom had said- swirling with different colors, showing colors that related to her emotions. There was her normal calm brown, but there was also blue to show her happiness, green to show her love for the oceans, red to show her pain and fear. "I-I'll be back in a couple minutes," she stammered, and ran out of the camp. I can't let them see! She heard footsteps and ran even faster. Sending out her mind, she found a pool of water not far from her location. Eragon was closer now. Time to step on it, she thought, and ran faster than any human could. Finally! Miranda reached the pool just before Eragon did. How does that boy run so fast? she wondered.

_..._

Eragon ran to keep up with Miranda. Gosh, she has speed. He began to sprint, then stopped to keep from colliding with her. She was walking into a pool he knew well from the many times he'd swum there. As she heard him, she stopped walking and dove into the water. "Miranda!" Eragon yelled. He thought he saw a slight glimmer under the surface. Miranda's voice echoed in his thoughts. Leave me be, boy.
Boy, huh?
Yes. I need-
To what?
Too many questions. I need to be alone. Go back to camp; I'll be back by dawn.
No.
Yes.
No.
ERAGON!
Oh, alright. You'd better get back by dawn.
I just told you I would. Eragon jumped in alarm as he saw eyes snap open from under the surface.
Quit creeping me out.
Oh, do I scare you?
No. You just surprised me.
Well, I'll surprise you even more if you don't get out of here.
Fine. What should I tell Brom?
Exactly what I told you.
Bye.
Goodbye, Eragon. I'll be back by-
Dawn, Eragon finished. Miranda smiled.

__..__

When she thought Eragon had left, Miranda finally leaped six feet out of the water. As she dove back in, she thought she heard a gasp, but it must have been her imagination...

__...__

As soon as Eragon was certain that Miranda was not looking, he ducked behind a tree and watched the pool. He gasped as Miranda jumped six feet out of the water. Instead of her usual legs, a shimmering white tail sprayed droplets of water everywhere. As if that weren't enough, there were golden symbols etched on her arms and face, and more glowed through her shirt.

__...__

Miranda kept swimming, even where the ground should have been. Instead, her presence had created a great tunnel in the floor of the pool. She could see a faint silver light at the end of her path.

__...__
Astrogar waited impatiently for his sister to emerge from the river where he and his twin had often played. "Ben!" someone called out. Like Na'imah, he didn't usually go by his given name, but by a chosen nickname. Come on, sis, it's almost time for the singing... he thought worriedly. Just then, his sister blasted out of the water, splattering him with droplets. "Hey, sis. Nice landing," Ben greeted. Na'imah glared at him. "Hey, just because I still haven't figured out how to land on my fin doesn't mean I'm inferior-"
"I never said it did."
"Well, at least I am not stuck with an element like stone."
"That's not my ele-" Miranda's eyes widened. "It changed? But I thought that was just some legend!" she cried. Unperturbed, Ben continued:"-ment. It's water, now." Miranda raised her eyebrows. "I guess you really are Mama's boy, now," she teased. "Hey!" Ben yelled. But before they could leap at each other's throats to play fight-Miranda was standing on legs, now- a small figure launched itself at Miranda. "Miranda!" cried her little sister, Aaliyah. "It's good to see you too, Bekah," Miranda laughed. "Rebekah, come- oh!" A petite woman who appeared to be in her mid twenties gasped at the sight before her. Miranda had time to get up and dust herself off from her seven year old sister's pounce before she was embraced fiercely by her mother. "I love you too, Mama," she murmured, breathing in Lashawn/Heather's sugary cinnamon smell. Suddenly, she was hit by another, larger embrace. "Daddy!" she cried. Harvir/ Travis said, "It's good to see you, darling."
"Your majesties!" Duchess Iliana ran toward them. She smiled, then grinned as she saw Miranda. "Selena!" Miranda cried, using her friend's nickname. The twelve-year-old duchess was a close friend of hers. "Hey, Zephyr," Selena grinned again. The private nickname was something of a joke, since it meant gentle wind, and Miranda often misjudged her strength. "You were saying, Iliana?" Heather usually called Selena by her given name. Miranda exchanged glances with her best friend and made a face. After a suppressed giggle, Selena contiued, "I don't mean to seem pushy, but the singing is about to start, and you are needed, Na'imah." Miranda rolled her eyes. "But of course," she said, speaking in her native tongue. *Note: this is referring to the wind speech that Miranda knew from the cradle, not the Ancient Language. "I know, it's irritating when duties pull us away from truly important things, but-" Selena replied in kind.
"Isn't restoring the elements just as important?" A haughty voice demanded. Miranda and Selena winced in unison before turning around to find themselves nose-to-nose with Count Kaamil and his parents, Count Kamali and Countess Kalista-they never revealed their chosen nicknames, if they had any. They came from a long line of snobby and rather vain people, which explained their names. *Kalista means "most beautiful one", Kaamil means "perfect", and Kamali means "perfection". Look up the meanings of some of the names of my other characters! They were wearing charms to allow them to understand the wind tongue. "Give me those," Miranda snarled, extending a hand. A breeze lifted them over the heads of the nobility, bringing them into her hand. As she pocketed them, the Three K's, as Miranda and Selena liked to call them, looked angry. "You have no right!" Kamali growled. "I'm sorry, but I can't hear you when you mumble," Miranda informed him. Selena and Ben stifled giggles. Turning to Kaamil, she told him, "Yes, it is important, but I've been abassadoring in Kalenia. I happened to miss my family and friends." It was the Council's desired cover story while she worked in Alagaesia, as they needed to keep it quiet. "You mean you've been serving as an ambassador," Kaamil corrected snobbishly. Whatever, Miranda thought. She felt alone without Seraphina's familiar presence. Very alone. "Whatever happened to restoring the forest?" Miranda asked impishly. Kalista looked irritated. "Yes, we wouldn't want the elements to diminish," she said smoothly. "And you're to lead the dances, as well as start the singing," Selena reminded Miranda, returning to wind speech. "Ahem," Ben cleared his throat. A small crowd had gathered. "Time to change," Selena nudged her. Miranda nodded and ducked behind a tree, allowing her power to alter her clothes and hair. When she emerged, her mother smiled in approval. She had let some of her hair's growth seep back into her head, so that her now-free hair was waist length. Her auburn mane had various curls and waves, framing her face. She wore, instead of her linen breeches and shirt, a white dress that reached to her mid-calf. The sleeveless gown would allow her to move freely during the dance. She wore delicate silver earrings to accompany the tiny diamond teardrop pendant resting on the hollow of her neck- she never took the necklace off. Barefoot, she walked to the center of the clearing. Every wind elemental in the clearing gathered around her, waiting for the first notes of song to fill the air. She took a deep breath, filling her lungs to the limit, and broke out in song. The other women and girls joined her, filling the clearing with the harmony to a melody the men and boys soon formed. Other elements soon added their own songs, filling the meadow that was their meeting place with song. A ripple of movement coursed through them as they changed to their true selves. The fire did not even singe the grass and the trees, because of two things: One, the plant elementals had an extremely strong will to survive. Two, the fire elementals had extreme control over their element. Miranda sang her heart and her soul into the song, but still, she could see the fire was weakened by single missing presence. But who? she wondered.
__...__

Eragon rose an hour after dawn to the smell of cooking meat. Miranda? he wondered. He discovered he was correct when he sat up, with one small difference: her hair. Her customary braid was undone, and her hair much shorter, being only waist length. "Good morning, Eragon. Did you sleep well?"
"Don't you ever just say 'morning'?" Eragon retorted.
"Yes, but it's more fun to make you feel annoyed," she replied, a twinkle in her eyes. Eragon rolled his own. "Where in the name of heaven did you go last night? And what was going on with your eyes?" he demanded, becoming more serious. "I beg your pardon?" Miranda cocked an eyebrow. I hate it when she gives me the look.
Go-ing to the chapel, and we're, go-nna get ma-rr-
Saphira! he protested.
I'm just kidding. Eragon detected a sudden flicker of memory.
And what would that particular memory be? he asked.
Oh, nothing.
Nothing, she says. Well, what would nothing be today? Thoughts of hunting, or secrets?
No.
Then what was that?
"Eragon. Did. You. Hear. Me?" Eragon was jolted out of his interrogation of Saphira by Miranda's impatient voice.

__...__

Saphira was saved from having to answer Eragon by Miranda's query. Sorry I told you.
What?
I'm sorry I told you; then Eragon wouldn't suspect anything.
Seraphina, don't be. It was my fault that Miranda's predicament crossed my mind. I should keep a hold of myself better.
Saphira. You were speaking of her with Eragon, weren't you?
Yes.
Why? About what?
I was...teasing him.
Alright... what did you say? If Saphira could have, she would have- oh, what did Eragon call it?- blushed. I, um, I joked with him about having a crush on her.
Well, does he?
I-
She's my Rider, I need to be able to protect her! Seraphina asserted.
Well, it seems he has a certain affection for her, but not of the kind that humans identify as romantic. I think.
Just a moment. Saphira almost tapped her paw, but then realized that the two humans would identify it as restlessness. Three, she realized, when she saw Brom waking. I think they like each other as friends, Seraphina reported. They don't know it yet, but I'm guessing that-
Yup. The similarities are obvious.

__...__

Miranda tapped her foot, impatient. Why does he keep speaking with Saphira when I'm talking to him? "Eragon. Did. You. Hear. Me?" she demanded. "Huh- Oh. Your eyes were swirling last night, and you had a tail, and these glowing designs all over you."
"Boy, you have interesting dreams, " Miranda commented.
"My name is Eragon," he retorted. "And it wasn't a dream; I can guarantee that. Just ask Brom," Eragon insisted.
"What?" Brom's grumpy voice came from across the clearing.
"Well, aren't we cheery this morning," Miranda grinned. "Go back to sleep; it's nothing."
"Why should I go back to sleep? Dawn was-" Brom glanced at the sky. "Blast it; dawn was an hour ago!" he cried, and rolled up his blankets. "Well, glad to see you can tell time," Miranda commented, "but you are going to eat before we leave, and so is Eragon," she told Brom, pushing both men down with a blast of wind. The trees groaned in unison with them. "How do you do that?" Brom demanded. Miranda was the picture of seriousness as she dished out his stew. "Well, I could tell you, but you'd have to eat your soup first. And then I'd have to kill you, and a pity that would be, since you're supposedly such a good teacher." Brom glared at first her, then the soup that was now in his lap. "Well, do we have all day?" Miranda asked, beginning to eat. Eragon suddenly realized that his legs no longer hurt. Puzzled, he looked to where Miranda had been, but saw only her empty bowl. "Miranda?" he called. "Looking for me?" Eragon would have jumped, but found he could only move from the waist up. That blasted wind is still holding me down, he realized. "Where are you?" he wondered.
"Here," Miranda said, flipping down from a branch so that she hung from her knees. "Now finish eating, or are you planning on sitting there all day?" she questioned him. Eragon rolled his eyes and wolfed down his stew. Stretching, he got up and realized it'd only taken him five minutes longer than Miranda to eat. Brom had finished even faster. "We need to get horses," Brom told them. "Why? Miranda and I have the dragons, and there's always Windsoul," Eragon protested. "And I don't want to steal; it's wrong."
"There isn't a horse alive that can outrun a flying dragon, Eragon," Brom shook his head. Windsoul could at least keep up, Miranda thought.
You bet I could.
Windsoul? Oh, Sera, stop playing games.
My name is Windsoul, if you recall. I've been yours since I was born. Miranda looked at Windsoul in amazement. You can talk?
Mmm-hm. Didn't you ever wonder?
I knew you were intelligent. I didn't know you could talk!

Yup. We horses are full of surprises, aren't we?
Yup. Breaking out of her reverie, she saw that both Brom and Eragon were looking at her expectantly. "Er...run that past me again?" She turned red.
"I said, can we put our packs on Windsoul?" Brom repeated. Miranda looked at the filly. "Sure," she consented. The horse was strong and barely noticed the extra weight. The two men walked out of the bramble, with Windsoul close on their heels, and the dragons took flight. Miranda looked around the bramble, sighed, and followed them. She had a feeling life wouldn't return to normal after this. Define normal.

I realize that some of my readers might not have read Eragon. For that reason, I am begging you: Read it before you read my fanfic! This is a "what-if" sort of thing, and if you want the honest to goodness masterpiece that is Eragon, run over to the library or the bookstore. To a comment that I recieved (on Fanfiction): Any quotes on this chappie fw are (like I said) for the sake of accuracy (or accidental) and should be few and far between. Anyhow, here's Ch.10 . Enjoy!

Chapter Ten: Horses

The day was an endless trek; Brom and Eragon talked for the majority of it. Miranda was silent, preferring to speak with Seraphina or Windsoul, occasionally Saphira, or just observe the day. They set up camp shortly after dusk, and as was becoming usual, Miranda prepared dinner. As she stirred the stew, she was amused to see Brom tossing another makeshift sword to Eragon. "Not again," the boy complained, but Brom only smiled and beckoned with his stick. Miranda stifled a giggle as she saw Eragon try to match the speed and ease she'd shown the day before. Brom was teaching him some basic moves, and he was trying to move like a master? Now that was funny. When they stopped, Eragon flopped down like a sack of potatoes and groaned. "Eat up; it'll help those bruises to heal," Miranda told him kindly, handing him a bowl of stew. Eragon wordlessly thanked her and began to eat. "Your turn," Brom stated, and tossed her the stick. "This one," she told him, "Will break after two blows." Miranda tossed it in the fire. "You're not getting out of it," Brom informed her.
"I know," Miranda told him. "I'm making it so I can actually fight instead of play." Brom tossed his own stick into the flames. "So what do you propose?" he asked, his eyes narrowed. "That we cut ourselves to ribbons with sharpened weapons?" Miranda ignored him and tossed a wind-sword to him. "Feel that edge," she ordered. Brom's hand passed right through it. "Nothing there," he asserted.
"Ah, but there is," she told him. "It feels like a real sword- speaking of weight and balance- it can't hurt you, and,"she said, swinging hers at him, "They solidify when they come into contact with you or your sword, thus, they won't cut, but they'll break bones and bruise." Brom blocked her blow with the simplest of defense mechanisms. "So please be careful. I don't want a broken neck."

She fights well, Brom thought, as he deflected a blow to his side, but she seems to be holding back. But why? She's human- at least, I think so- so she fights with the strength and speed of a trained twelve year old. But she must have something else- her eyes aroused my suspicions last night. Sword down, and- Brom's mind drifted away from trying to wrestle answers from his mind as he started to work harder to deflect blows and deliver them.

Miranda grew bored of toying with her sword. With a deft maneuver, she slipped past Brom's guard and flicked her sword to his throat. Eragon wasn't the only one with bruises, now, but Miranda was still unhurt. "Dead again, Brom," she told him, and their swords dissapated. "Where did you learn to fight?" he asked, curious.
"Maybe I'm improvising."
"No, your movements are those of a trained swordsman."
"Woman. I'm a girl, remember? I'll not say, but she's much better than I am."
"She, huh? Where do you come from, anyway?"
"Over the river and through the woods, to Grandmother's house we go!" Miranda sang out.
"Miranda, be serious. Where do you come from?"
"I'll not say, but I miss home very much."
"You can be a bother, you know that?" Eragon remarked suddenly. Finishing her stew, Miranda would say nothing more, only took out her panpipes and began to play.

The next day, Eragon woke to find everything ready to go. Brom was eating the mush that he'd made for once, and Miranda was loading their packs onto Windsoul. The saddles were already on the dragons. Wordlessly, for once, Miranda handed him a bowl of the same mush Brom was eating. Eragon hurriedly finished.

They stopped when a bridge came up and a greasy-looking man jumped out. "Halt!" he cried. "This is my bridge and you'll have to pay to get over," he told them.
"How much?" Brom inquired. A glint came into the man's dull eyes. "Five crowns," he demanded. Eragon started to rise hotly, but stopped at Brom's glare. He wordlessly took out the money from a pouch at his belt and handed it to the man. As they crossed, Brom stumbled and caught the bridgekeeper's sleeve for balance. "Hey!" the man protested. "Clumsy of me," Brom apologized, then continued across.When they were out of earshot, Eragon burst out, "Why did you pay? He practically skinned you alive and probably doesn't own the bridge, anyway!"
"Probably," Brom agreed. "But you can't argue with all of the fools of the world. It's easier to go along with them, then play the trickster when they aren't looking," he continued, and opened his hand to reveal the glint of coins. "You cut his purse!" Eragon exclaimed incredulously. "And it held a surprising amount," Brom remarked, pocketing it with a wink. Miranda eyed the money with distaste. As they heard a wounded yell, they hurried into Therinsford.

They arrived at a barn with healthy horses after getting instructions from a boy. A broad-shouldered man stood inside, grooming a white stallion. "That's a beautiful animal," Brom complimented. "Thank you," the man responded. "His name's Snowfire. Mine's Haberth. What can I do for you?"
"We need horses, and a full set of tack for each," Brom replied smoothly. Haberth looked disdainfully at Miranda. He seemed to hope he wouldn't have to sell an animal for her to ride. Then his gaze fell upon Windsoul- his first reaction was relief, and his second immense interest. Before he commented, however, he asked, "How many?"
"Two," was the flat reply. "They need to be fast and tough; we're traveling far." Haberth thought for a moment. "I don't have many horses like that, but..." He trailed off, jogging to a stall, leading out a roan and a light bay, after forming two piles of supplies. "He's a little spirited," he told them, gesturing toward the bay. "We'll take him," Brom assented, "but I'm not sure of the other one."
"He's got some good legs."
"Mmm...What will you take for Snowfire?" Haberth looked at the stallion lovingly. "I'd rather not sell him. He's the finest I've ever bred; I'm hoping to sire a whole line from him. That mare would make a good partner," he added, glancing back at Windsoul.
"She's not mine to sell," Brom told him tartly. Haberth glanced at Eragon, who gestured at Miranda. Haberth pursed his lips and turned to Miranda. "Will you sell her, then, girl?" he asked, in a honeyed voice. "You know, if you want someone to sell to you, you shouldn't act like they're inferior to yourself. Besides, she's a filly, not even four summers old. Oh, don't even start!" she exclaimed, as Haberth opened his mouth to complain. "I wouldn't sell Windsoul, anyway. I've had her since she was a foal." Her tone indicated that the discussion was over. Haberth made a face, turning back to Brom. "If you were willing to part with Snowfire, how much would all of this cost us?" Brom continued his bargain steadily. His opponent thought for a moment. "Two hundred crowns and no less," he declared confidently. "And," he raised a finger, as Brom began to remove his pouch, "if Snowfire were to breed with Windsoul, I would require their first foal." Brom looked pleadingly at Miranda. How like a parent he looks! Miranda thought, amused.
I wouldn't breed with that... mute, anyway. I'm not saying he's dumb, just...
Windsoul has a beau! How sweet.
I do not! Miranda smiled and broke contact. The filly snorted and pushed her back with her nose. "Alright," she consented. Haberth pretended not to hear her. "I said, alright!" she yelled. Eragon winced, he knew that particular tone. She was more than annoyed- she was mad. Really mad. He knew she hated it when she was treated as inferior because of her gender. The man winced; she'd yelled in his ear. "I heard you." Turning to Brom, he added, "I wish you safety and luck, for Snowfire's sake. I hope to receive a foal soon."
" We'll treat them well, as though their sire was Gildentor. Thank you, and goodbye," Brom replied. Haberth began to groom the roan. When Miranda, Brom, Eragon, and the horses reached the edge of town, Brom ordered his companions to stay put with the horses. The stallions were close to Windsoul, eying her curiously. This is irritating. What would Windfire say? The filly fretted.
Oh, so you do have a beau! The filly rolled her eyes and shoved the other two horses away. The stallions knew better than to mistake it for teasing!

Brom returned after a half hour with disturbing news. "The Ra'zac were definitely here," he stated. That was the name for the horrid creatures they were hunting. "They stopped here to buy horses, like we did, and left quite a mark, too," Brom continued. "The man I spoke to said they fled town like demons fleeing a holy man."
"Ai, I feel sorry for those horses," Miranda remarked.
"Ai! What kind of a word is that?" Eragon teased.
"It's an exclamation, not a word," Miranda replied irritably. "And I actually do. Let's get out of here."
"No argument there," Eragon agreed, and they left.

What my story doesn't mentions later on is that Haberth did receive a foal later on....a black one, so he knew it wasn't Snowfire's!