First attempt at writing a story. So it may suck BUT I have an excuse for that I'm quite young. Anyway this story may or may not be continued and I doubt that there will be any set update speed. Mainly because I am very busy: 4pm-7pm I go boxing and weightlifting. 9pm – 12 I go out again; you get the picture. So Yeah. One more thing Im a huge fan of Eminem and Hip Hop in general so the story may get a bit strange at points depending on what Im listening to: I plan on quoting Em a bit.

"Don't get me wrong, I love these ho's
It's no secret, everybody knows
Yeah we fucked, bitch so what, that's about as far as your buddy goes
We'll be friends, i'll call you again, i'll chase you around every bar you attend
Never know what kind of car i'll be in, we'll see how much you'll be partying then
You don't want that, neither do I, I don't want to flip when I see you with guys
Too much pride, between you and I
Not a jealous man, but females lie
But I guess that's just what sluts do, how could it ever be just us two
I'd never love you enough to trust you, we just met and I just fucked you..."
Eminem, Superman. Man this part of the track cracks me up every time. Also my story uses a somewhat more mature Eragon than in the cycle.

"Does he purposefully ignore the substantial problems posed by the coming winter?" As Jörmundur continued his overlong speech to convince Nausuada that an advance was their best option.

Saphira gave a soft growl and said, "It matters little to me, a little cold never harmed a dragon."

Eragon grinned slightly at that, "Unfortunately dragons are quite rare amongst the Varden's army"

Amusements trickled across their link from Saphira; then a quiet yawn.

A loud bang marked the end of Jörmundur's harangue as he pounded his armoured fist into the table, as to emphasize his point. After a respectful wait Eragon stood.

"Jörmundur believe me; I understand where your confidence in our troops is coming from. But they are not capable of such a feat so soon after the siege of Feinster: they need a brief respite, also keep in mind the upcoming winter."

"They are not the only ones in need of rest," Saphira states humourlessly, her attention slipping.

Finished with is little tirade Eragon re-seated himself and waited for Jörmundur to reply. He was never given the chance. Nausuada placed one slim hand into the air: the signal for silence.

"Eragon is right: to a point, to advance upon Belatona after such a brief interval would result in our destruction ; however neither can we afford to tarry for too long, hmm...," her words trailed off as she thought up a remedy to their dilemma; then, at a length, she continued. "I propose a compromise: we rest here for three days than march upon Belatona with all due haste."

"She completely ignored the changing of seasons!" Eragon said to Saphira in outrage.

The room burst into a storm noise as each member of the council struggled to be heard. Nausuada again raised her hand and the shouting gradually faded.

"My order is final, you are all dismissed," and with that she stepped away from her seat and hurried, with great dignity, towards her personal chambers.

The abruptness of her exit surprised most at the meeting. Something was obviously wrong. But the steel in her voice had been clear; they all started to file out of the room. Eragon hung back from the crowd hoping to catch a word with Arya. However the princess in question was amongst the first to leave, gracefully slipping out of the door and disappearing amongst the shadows of the hallway; many eyes following her progress. She seemed tense; but then that was normal. Still doubt clung to Eragon: she didn't even look at him during the meeting, neither greeting nor acknowledgement, a haunted expression upon her angelic face.

"That was strange," Eragon commented to Saphira.

A bored grunt was his reply.

"I am tired Eragon"

"I wonder..." Snapping himself out of his musings Eragon left the council room behind and made his way back to his allotted tent; located outside Feinster's walls. A dreary day he thought; metallic clouds clogged the sky and a light rain was starting; all in all it complimented Eragon's mood: dull and hopeless.

Drawing upon his diminutive tent Eragon spied Blödhgarm standing guard at the tent entrance; Saphira sprawled upon the ground just to the side of him, asleep. Nodding towards Blödhgarm, Eragon entered his tent, a faint whisper of "Shadeslayer" reaching his ears. Unclipping brisingr, Eragon placed it almost reverently upon his chest of belongings, light glimmering across the length of its alluring scabbard.

With that Eragon collapsed on to his cot: the soft, white mattress swallowing his exhausted form.

Reaching out towards Saphira he murmured, ""

Eragon's eyelids lazily shut.

The strangeness of the day started to slip away. A vague memory started to form, distorted images and shadowy creatures... maybe it wasn't a memory... maybe it was a vision of something to come... a forgotten world.

A shade of a whisper.

"Death is just release... many things in life are worse than death... don't ever forget that rider... I will purge this world clean."

Demons in a bottle.

And then silence.