A/Notes:

This Prologue {and the Epilogue} takes place hundreds of years after the defeat of the usurper king Galbatorix. But the chapters between will tell of events that occurred several years after his fall.

The man on the hill.

Prologue. {Origin of a Legend}

Rumors abound, especially on the fringes of the empire. And there are few inhabited places more remote than the coastal city of Ceunon.

The people say that beyond the city gates, nestled among the wild rocks that battle the turbulent sea, and the great forests that stretch eastward towards the elven lands, there stands a lone hill, buffeted and beaten by relentless winds. During the summer season, the saltiness of the sea burns the scant grasses that have managed to survive the meager spring. And in winter not even snow can settle there against the forceful gales.

Somewhere between the rocks at the foot of the hill, where many fierce storms and relentless crashing waves conspire to disturb the calm, is hidden a small cave. Inaccessible except by sea or air, this cave is a shelter to those few who can reach it; to wildlife, seals, sea lions, gulls, and on rare occasions, a temporary haven for the stranger.

Such are the rumors that have been passed down, and over several generations the tale has made its way to the furthest corners of the empire...

And they say that on days when the fog shrouds the hill with a misty veil, and you cannot see clearly beyond a few steps, that is when you might chance to glimpse the ghostly stranger that comes to haunt the hill. No one has ever seen his face, but it is said that at the touch of his hands, whatever wound or illness your body might have is instantly healed.

On such days, many people gather at the foot of the hill. And they bring their sick and wounded with them. Mothers come bearing their weakened children, and the elderly with the pains of their long years. Workers and seafarers, crippled by the heavy work and hard labor, these approach the hill with their needs, as do many others who have been touched by misfortune.

And of those gathered, most of them will leave as they have come, for not everyone who comes is blessed to see the stranger. But for the one who persists and endures the cold dampness of the sea air, for that one it could be possible. One such as this might be rewarded with the long awaited encounter, and receive his health restored. Or so the people say.

Additionally, those lucky ones who have met him and insist that they have been cured, they say that he may be one of the gods, or a good spirit of the sea. And others imagine him to be an generous elf who, escaping the spells of their forests, has come to help the humans. For although no one has ever seen his face, they have heard his voice. And that voice is the voice of a young man; the voice of one who, though the years have passed, never seems to grow older.

According to the tales, the stranger will disappear for days, sometimes months or even years. But always he returns, suddenly and without warning, he comes to the hill, reprising the isolated role he has assumed. And then, he patiently takes care for all those who seek his help, without ever asking anything in return.

No one knows where he resides, or where he spends his days and nights, for it is only on certain foggy mornings that he appears on the hill. And these mornings are usually preceded by a night sky rent with thunder-like roars and red flames flashing like lightening behind the clouds.

These are the signs the people watch for. This is how they know that the mighty healer has returned...

And the people call him 'the man on the hill' because they don't know how else to call him.

In spite of the many tales told, there are still some who say that the rumored healer is simply the figment of imaginative minds. They question the rumors. Is there truly a hill to the north of Ceunon. Does this unknown healer really exist at all? If his hands touch you, will you really have all your pains healed? More likely it is only the wild hopes of desperate people that have created all these rumors. Nevertheless, the rumors spread like wildfire, told by word of mouth all over the realm.

And over the many years, time takes the rumors and turns them into legend...

A/Notes: Posted on 7-16-2013

I do not own, or claim, or profit from, or covet the "Inheritance Cycle" in any way. I don't even have the right to receive acclaim for this fanfiction. This is not my story. It was written by one of my five all-time-favorite authors on this website "kumar LaVoixDuSud" who has the full rights of authorship. He has graciously asked me to take the English version of his story, and flavor it a bit with my own style. I am honored that he thinks me capable of improving on his works. Though I fear that some of his natural poetic aesthetics may be lost in my translation. Still, I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I did.

And if you do enjoy it, please feel free to check out Kumar's other works. There will be a link to his account on my Profile Page.

{For anyone who just can't wait to see the end of this story, "The Man on the Hill" is currently posted -in completion- in the Greek language. You will likely need a translator -and those are never perfect- but if you do choose to do so, you will better sense Kumar's poetic flare.}

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