For Even the Wisest Cannot Foresee the Future

Author's Note:

Hello readers! This story is a rewrite of the original that I started several months ago, but had to stop working on due to unavoidable circumstances. All I can say is that I'm in the military and we don't always have control of our lives.

I'm back though, and I hope to finish this story the second time around.

There have been some changes to the story that those of you who read the first one will notice. And looking back on it, I wish you didn't read it! Hahaha…sadly I'm being serious.

Arya will be in the story, but not for a few more chapters. Murtagh will be in the story, but not until after Arya makes her appearance.

Anyway, read, critique, and, above all, enjoy!

Atra gülia un ilian tauthr ono un atra ono waíse sköliro frá rauthr

Chapter 1

The young boy did not want to go to bed. No one should be in bed while the sun was still out. He did not believe when his father told him that he was going to bed at his normal time. It's not like the sun can just choose to stay out longer, right? The boy pondered this as he washed his face and changed in to his bedclothes.

"Alren, are you in bed yet?" he heard his father call.

"Er, yes!" He yelled back as he hurriedly dove under his covers. "You're still going to tell me a bedtime story, right father?" He heard his father chuckle outside his door.

"Of course son, of course. Now what would you like to hear about tonight?"

The boy instantly replied, "I want to hear about the great Eragon Shadeslayer and his dragon Saphira Brightscales! Tell me about when they killed the Black King!"

The father smiled at his son, who was no doubt going to go on many adventures when he became older. For he was always getting into trouble with the townsfolk of Carvahall and going off on his own exploring.

"They say that the great Eragon was born right here, in Carvahall," Alren's father began. "The lowly child of a farmer. But that everything changed when a dragon egg appeared before him in a great flash of light from the gods. For who else could have known who the egg was destined for, but the gods?

The father paused for a moment to remember how his father before him had told this same story, many years ago when he was but a young lad himself.

"Legend says that the boy Eragon, his dragon Saphira, and an old storyteller, whose name has been lost to history, set out to join the Varden and give their aid in the fight against the Black King's empire. They had many adventures along the way and Eragon learned much from the old man, who turned out to be one of the last Riders! Though his dragon, also named Saphira, had perished in the rebellion which claimed the life of so many of the Riders of old…"

"And he taught Eragon how to fight! And use magic!" exclaimed Alren, excitedly.

"Yes son, now hush and let me finish," the father said gently.

The boy closed his mouth and waited impatiently for his father to continue.

"Now let's see, where was I…? Ah, yes…They had many adventures and Eragon learned to use of magic and was trained in the sword. He had, apparently, a natural affinity for both and progressed quickly. Alas his power was not enough yet, to save his friend. During an ambush by the Ra'zac, foul creatures that preyed upon human flesh, the storyteller was mortally wounded as he leaped in front of Eragon to save him from a thrown dagger." The father paused as he saw Alren's eyelids begin to droop.

"Though much of Eragon's story is unknown, we do know that he eventually found the Varden and joined them after rescuing the elven princess, Arya, from the shade Durza, with Murtagh, the red rider."

"Arya and Eragon managed to slay Durza during the battle of Farthen Dur, and then Eragon left for Ellesmera, the city of the elves, to continue training. But that is a story for another time, son."

The father smiled at his sleeping child before leaving the room quietly. He paused though, in the hallway, and wished he knew how the hero's story had turned out after the fall of the Black King…