Epilogue

"The land you see you see about you was once as flat as a blade," said an old man, with a bushy beard as white as dirty snow, which is to say not very white as all. This old man was perched proudly atop of a log, looking at a trio of children. Though the two boys were grown nearly to manhood their coming of age made no difference to him; they were children as they would always be. A younger girl sat between them, a needle and length of cloth in front of her, her head was bent with work but the man knew she was listening. It was likely that she was the one who would hear the story through. "It still would be, were it not for the ones that were lost nigh a millennia ago. It was in this time all those years ago when men and elves and the creatures of terror had only begun to crawl from their nest of creation to discover this world. It was then in this land here that a great race lived."

"Some said these creatures were as tall as the mountains while others have said that they were they were no taller than men, but the truth is seen where only the eye can see. The mountains you see, the peaks you roams tell a tale that was once long forgotten, a tale about the mountains that now protect us and how they came to be."

It was than at this point in the man's tale that his wife turned from her craft and gave him a dark look. Her face became hidden in the shadow from the lofty oak above, saving the man from the worst of her sour expression. She had never took to the protection of the mountains, had always believed them to be a hindrance, and perhaps that was why the man took such joy from this tale.

The man winked at her, and began his tale; "Once long ago lived many dragons and their young ones. One day, as the enormous mother dragons were flying in the valley hunting food, a group of hatchlings decided to fly on the gales of a storm and were lost. Their mother returned and soon found them missing, flew after them to the ocean. They flew for a very long time, and eventually just outside the winds of the storm the little ones were found. Together the mothers and their young flew back to the land but the hatchlings were very tired and fell behind. When the dragons returned to the shores, they flew to the highest point they could find, a hill made of stone, and waited for the younglings. They waited, and waited, and waited. But their young could not make the long journey. Instead the Great Spirits, who watched over all, turned the hatchlings into a great island. The mother dragons soon grew tired, and fell asleep, still watching for their young, and stone and sand began to cover to cover them. They wait still for their hatchings inside their great stone lairs."

There was a long pause, and then the oldest boy turned to look at the man with a humored looked. "Where did you hear that ridiculous story?"

"My father used to tell it to me."

"That must have helped you sleep well at night."

It had not, but the old man did not say this. He merely huffed and turned to the boy who had spoken. "It's an old tale, Murtagh," he said. "Today, many have forgotten it. You're lucky to have even heard it."

Murtagh shrugged having heard many 'rare' tales- there was something about that made the rare and forsake, very mundane. He looked towards the mountains. "Kuasta must be a strange place filled with filled with so many strange tales," he said.

His mother leaned forward, placing her hands on her lap. "Kuasta is filled with many strange people as well," she said. "Don't allow your father's feelings for the place misguide you. Even after the years he spent apart from it, it remains home to him. The superstitious old goat that he is."

The man grumbled at her and turned to the wood carving in his lap. It was half done, and the woman did not know what might soon become. Many of the objects in their home were made by the man- him and their sons. She always enjoyed it when something new was made, his work gave off a simple wonder that Selena did not have to learn to love. Or perhaps that wonder came from the simple fact that her home she and the man had worked to build was truly for her and her family.

Their home.

It was so very different than the place she had grown up. She had insisted on it- stopping randomly one day at the small meadow fenced by sparse trees with the idea of building their home there after week of travel. At first Brom had been reluctant and poked about the meadow for days before agreeing and beginning to plan. The cottage he built took half of a year to finish, and was big enough for four to live comfortably. Selena and Brom planned to live out with the boys, and have no more children, and then twelve moon cycles later, she found out that she was again with child.

Before that, they had tried to live in Carvahall. In the town where Brom could sell his crafts but as the years passed, it seemed as if nothing would ever change. Carvahall was a bubble, a place that time only passed without the chance of variation or growth, and at last they decided to leave it behind and move forward.

Unlike when she left with Morzan, Selena never looked back. The haunts that once lurked in the shadows were something she could now overlook. These shadows, she had grown away from- like an ivy, Brom said once, seeking towards and growing in the light.

"Mamma, how does it look?" said the girl, holding up the cloth she had been working on.

Selena started and studied the stitches before shaking her head. She was not quite certain what it was supposed to be. It looked like a misshaped something made of different colored thread. "It's- well to be honest, Aine," she said at last, "if I were you, I would keep working on it."

Aine's arms fell into her lap, her blue eyes downcast. "Oh. I thought that it looked pretty," she said dejectedly.

"It does, in a way." Selena moved from her perch and sat beside her daughter. "Only I'm not quite certain what 'it' is."

"A horse." She set the needle aside and frowned, studying it. "I'm getting better though, right?"

Selena frowned, not wanting to answer the question. Aine had gotten the urge to learn to embroider some months ago, and though Selena had never been the person to enjoy the task she did her best to teach her. Her daughter at least had much more patience with the subject than she ever had- Selena having given it up the first chance she was given.

"Aine," started Murtagh, saving Selena from answering, "if your cross-stitching is bad enough where Mam won't lie that it looks alright, than it needs work. A lot of work."

Or perhaps her oldest son hadn't saved her from a single thing. Selena turned towards him, a warning on her lips but she was never given the chance to speak.

"Don't listen to him," said Eragon. He scooted closer and taking the cloth, he set it behind him, out of sight. "It matters not what your stitches look like. I thought you wanted to be a warrior like father was."

"There is no 'was', boy," growled out their father. "I can still beat you into the ground with little effort."

"I do," said Aine. "Want to be a warrior, I mean."

"Warriors do not embroider," said Murtagh. "So don't worry about it. Besides a sword is more threatening than a needle. You can't exactly bring your needlework to the battlefield and expect to be taken as a threat."

"You're better at the sword anyhow," joined Eragon hurriedly. "Don't worry about learning how to sew."

Aine gave him a dark look, her face scrunching up. "And what would you do if you went into a battle and your trousers ripped in half because you did not bother to learn to sew?" she began lowly. "You would have to battle Galbatorix in only your underpants! I bet you wouldn't like being remembered for that!"

"Do you truly think that either of these two idiots would make it Galbatorix?" said Brom, his bushy eyebrow raised.

Aine shook her head. "No," she said with a sweet smile. "I think that it's more likely that they stab theirselves with their own swords and die."

"Thanks for the praise, sister," grumbled Eragon. "Nice to know you have so much faith in us."

"You're welcome," she chirped happily, raising to her feet. "I'm thirsty! See you inside!"

Selena watched silently as the girl raced away, and then as Brom stood and tapped Murtagh on his shoulder. "I think that we should follow your sister's lead. We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow and it's getting late," he said.

Murtagh nodded, and after wishing Selena and Eragon a good night, he walked into the cabin as well. Selena studied his back. When he had been younger, it troubled her how much her eldest son looked like her first husband, and she feared he might become like him. But he did not. Murtagh had always been different; gentle and kind- so long as he was not given a weapon. Or the chance to pester his siblings. He seemed a different person when he was, and perhaps that was a good thing. She hoped so, because come the next day, he would find that traveling with Brom was more trying than it was worth the trip.

Tomorrow Brom would be leaving for the city and then Du Weldenvarden, as he did every two or so years, to purchase some rarer supplies and later meet with an old friend- a young elf- and gather news from the Varden. The only difference was this time he would be taking Murtagh with him, leaving Eragon, Aine, and Selena behind. It was first time he had ever done so.

Her youngest son's mind seemed to be on this as well- he was digging at the dirt with a stick dejectedly. Selena nudged him with her elbow. "After those two leave," she said softly, "we'll go to our favorite spot and raid the orchard. Maybe make a trip of it and hunt down a deer."

Eragon looked up at her, his eyes gleaming. "I'd like that," he said.

Here marks the end of
A Call to Resurgence

A/N:
Here would mark a different beginning of Eragon. One that I'm not going to get into- that would be too much work. Interesting, yes, but I know my limits.

There are certain things I did not include in this ending bit; like how Selena and Garrow never worked past his resentment, that Selena and the family live near the Elven forest- nearly a two week travel from Carvahall depending on the route taken. Brom and Selena make a living on wood-carvings and healing others in a town that's two days travel away. They don't live near anyone, and that this complete isolation causes problems for the children later in their lives- throughout what would Eragon. Murtagh grew up knowing that Morzan was his father, but it was never a burden to him. He doesn't think that its a big deal- Brom is the man who raised him and that means more. Murtagh picks on Aine a lot, and Eragon always defends her- not that she needs it but Eragon is protective in ways that are unnecessary. Aine is physically creative, she likes hands-on crafts and thinks that reading is boring- she has virtually no patience with others. Eragon collects objects- strange stones, roots- whatever interests him, and depending on the object asks about it. Often this is received with slight annoyance from Brom, but he is always told about it. All three children know how to read and write, some of the basics of the Ancient Language, and how to greet an elf (just in case).
Yes, Saphira's egg is found, and Eragon still becomes a Rider.

As I stated in the beginning; this was originally my brother's story and he was going to write it but decided against it- only after he planned things out. So it was thought through quite well beforehand and much would never be known- I cannot fit all of this into the ending.

The fable in the beginning was based around a tale I heard as a child about Sleepy Bears Dunes. I don't remember much of it, so I let my mind do the work and shift and change it to my liking. It was best I could think of, seeing as I wrote 90% of this well over a year ago and wanted to use the interactions.
I have edited this within the hours it was updated- I thought I posted this version but I did not. I think I forgot how a save button worked...

I really liked this story, and hope you did too. It was fun to write, and a little trying but now it's officially over.
Please let me know your thoughts- good or bad, or just the 'or'. Either way, thanks for reading!

I do not own the Inheritance series.