Hey there! Tis I! Optimistic Lier!

Well you see, I was looking around Eragon fan fictions, and was stunned by the fact of how short evreyone's chapters are. It was a "I thought mine were short! Holy crap..."... Well I come with longer chapters, and a decent fan fiction for m beloved Eragon... Anyways! Time for the disclaimer!

I don not own Eragon. And that is all

"You mean it's not possible?"

A young girl of with flaxen hair asked her her darker father as she sat on his knee. The girl was about 7 years old, and was wearing a puzzled expression as her father tried to explain to her, "Lyre girl..." he said, pausing as if he didn't know what to say. The little girl, whose name was Lyre squinted. He only used that nickname when he was either praising her, or when she had done something bad. The child was obviously confused. She didn't have a clue to if she had done something right, or if she had done something wrong. If it wasn't one or the other, than what could it possibly mean?

Being the type of person to always want an answer, she prodded him again, "Daddy? What do you mean magic isn't real?" she asked him, as her big green eyes grew larger, and her childish lips began to quiver.

The young man sighed, as he pushed back his brunette bangs from his face. A motion he did when he didn't have a clue as of what to do. He decided to take deep breath, and than continue what he was going to say, though it was with obvious reluctance. These were the times when he wished his departed wife was still there. She would have known exactly what to say. She always did.

"Lyre girl, I'm sorry to say it love, but the things you love the most; Fairies, dragons, wizards, and magic. They aren't real Lyre." He ended his speech louder than when he had started, finding confidence in his words. He didn't want to look down at his daughter though, he was afraid of her reaction. Afraid of a little girl? His conscious told him, Don't tell me you're afraid of your own daughter? What it she? 6? He rolled his eyes to no one but himself, and finnaly decided to look down at her.

Lyre sat still on his knee, staring intently at nothing at all, her little fingers up to her lips as if she were thinking. His face brightened for a moment. She looked like a tiny version of her mother. Fay used to look just like that when she was thinking. He was surprised though, Lyre was definitely acting older than the average 7 year old at the moment. The surprise was short lived though, because as soon as he thought of that, the spell broke and fat tears were spilling down her cheeks.

"B-b-but daddy!" she yelled quietly, "You said it was real!" she whined, and her frame shook with her withheld sobs. She turned her attention to her fathers silver eyes. All the confidence he thought he had shattered when she looked at him with her sad puppy dog orbs.

He sighed, and scratched the back of his neck nervously and continued "Well Lyre, there is magic." He paused for a moment" -Just not the magic you're thinking of." the shaking stopped, and her face was full of light once again, "Really!?" she asked quiet enthusiasm, silently wiping the streaked water from her face.

How to make this right...? "Yes Lyre." He said, an idea sparking in his head, "Better than the magic you're thinking of." That got her interested. Her head perked up, an she smiled a little more. "What's it called daddy?" she asked him, obviously thrilled.

He tapped her nose, and smiled widely, "It's called love Lyre girl."

Lyre's face fell. "Love?" she asked him disappointed. "That's not magic." She finished dejectedly, but her father continued. "Do you know what love is Lyre?" he teased, raising his eyebrows high on his face. Lyre was about to say yes, but than paused. "No..." she said looking away from him, deciding not to meet his eyes.

"You love me, right?" he said to her, turning her face back to him with his by hooking his index finger on her chin. She nodded reluctantly. "And I love you, right?" she nodded again. Why was he asking such obvious questions? "We would do anything for each other, right?" he asked her again. She looked up to him with pouting lips, not even bothering to nod. "Well, isn't that magic?" he asked her gleefully.

Lyre paused, thinking it over again. "I... I guess it is!" she said, coming to a realization. She smiled merrily to her father, and told him "So there is magic, right!?" He nodded.

"Yes Lyre. Yes there is."

_-_-_-_

Name? Lyre Ellwood. Age? 16 years. Height? 5 feet, 7 inches. Weight? 126 pounds. Residency? This hell hole I'm supposed to call home.

"Lyre!" the woman's shrieks carried there way up to the rafters. My name, if you were paying attention, is Lyre. I'm the girl the fat hag is screeching for. The so called 'hag' is my aunt Adora. I live with her, the witches maid like husband, and her bastard of a son Carter. For those who wish to know, I'm currently hiding from my dearest auntie in the attic rafters. 5 stories above her. With my hands over my ears. Humming. Yet no matter how hard I try, I can't seem to drown out the noise of her howling all the way down on the first floor.

"Lyre!" she screamed again, her voice vibrating like a mosquito buzzing about someones ear. "Lyre, you get your tush down here!" My god, how I wanted to smack her flat like I could with a mosquito. If only, if only, the woodpecker sighs. I rolled my eyes, wondering why the poem came to my head at the moment. Some things I may never know.

I heard the muffled groan of the attics entrance stairs being pulled down, and the thump of it landing on the floor below. Carter reared his evil head from the hole, caught sight of me sitting high up in the rafters, and began to walk up the steps. This isn't Harry Potter everyone, so I will admit that Carter isn't a fat pig who gorges himself on everything in sight (I wish he was). He's just a moronic soccer jock who thinks he's better than everyone else. "Get down there, my ears are starting to bleed." he said in his cocky, 'I command you' voice.

I smiled angelically, "Oh yes, oh powerful one." I said mockingly, as I let myself fall to the attic floor, my long blond hair a white cloud around my face. I landed wrong, and my ankle started to sting badly, but I kept my face in line, convincing myself that it really didn't hurt at all.

He breathed our heavily, and his face showed that he was clearly miffed. "Lyre!" my face sunk. I though she had stopped calling for me. Carter started to smile poisonusly, as he said to me "Hurry up Cinderella. If you work fast enough, maybe you'll finally find a prince who'll give you some action?" he cackled evilly, and I immediately envisioned him in a dark cape, with bloody fangs. If this were a real fairy tale, Carter would be the vampire.

I trotted the length of the attic to the staircase. Before I descended into hell, I looked back at him, ready to insult, and realized I didn't have anything to say. Out of desperation, I stuck out my tongue and ran down the stairs. "Oh yeah!" he shouted while I ran away, "Make me something to eat while you're down there!" he hollered at me, with his mocking laugh soon following behind. When my teacher gave us a project to research our families names, ironically enough, Carter means cart driver in old English. Sadly, I would have to say that I'm the ox her drives.

I raced down the flights of stairs, wondering if I should try to make the time last longer and walk instead. I figured though, that the sooner I was there, the sooner whatever lyed ahead would be over.

Pictures littered the walls of the stairways, and I liked to stop to look at one in particular. It was a picture of my aunt and my father when they were younger. My dad had a dazed smile on his face, and aunt Adora was frowning slightly, as he was obviously trying to cheer her up. It made me wonder if aunt Adora had always been so bad natured. I looked away quick enough for my hair to smack my cheeks, and started to run down the steps again.

My father, Michael Ellwood departed when I was 10 years old, roughly 6 years ago, and my mother died in a car crash when I was only 3. Dad had died of a tumor in his brain, and was delirious in her later memories of him. I shook my head, trying to shake the memories away, much like an etch-a-sketch. "Lyre! If you're not down here in 30 seconds, I swear, you will be in big trouble!" It was than Lyre burst through the kitchen door, almost out of breath from running so fast.

Her aunts sour face was contracted to the center of her profile, and looked like she had smelt something terrible, and eaten something sour at the same time. Her dark brown hair was pulled up into a messy bun, and her fat hung off her arms as they rested on her overly large hips. "Where the hell have you been for the past 10 minutes!?" she said loudly, her steely gray eyes looking at her without mercy. Lyre looked to the side, refusing to look her in the eyes, "It wasn't 10 minutes." she murmured defiantly.

Aunt Adora's nostrils flared unattractively as she raised the hand that held the mixing spoon in the air, "Why the hell would that matter!?" She said, and you guessed it, very, very loudly. "What matters is that you should have been here earlier!"

Lyre looked around the kitchen, and guessed why she was down here. Her aunt had probably tried, and failed, to cook. She finally looked to her, and flinched for a moment as she saw the spoon she waved in the air. The witch continued to lecture her over what a "disrespectfull twit" I was, and how I would be "A harpy, just like your brat of a mother". Lyre blocked her out for the few minutes of the woman's tirade, before going to her, and reaching out for the spoon. Auntie would be the evil witch.

The hag turned up her nose, and walked away, "Make something out of the stuff we have in the kitchen." she commanded, beforeshe walked out of the room. Lyre sighed, and put her fingers to her mouth, thinking of what to make. She didn't have to think for long, before Carter pushed in the swinging doors and sat right on one of the kitchenette chairs. "Make me some noodles. I have a game tomorrow." he said yawning lazily, leaning onto his arm. I rolled my eyes. "Yes, oh master."

_-_-_-_

Lyre jogged up the stairs with a plate full of steaming linguine. She turned on the 4th floor, and raced down the hall to her room. She kicked the door open for theatrics, and fell onto her bed while balancing her plate. "Finally..." she said tiredly, as she leaned up against her pillows. The room was plain, with white washed walls, a couple of pieces of furniture, and an abundance of sketches that were tacked on her wall. She guessed her aunt put her up here to show that she wasn't really apart of the family, because everyone else lived on the second floor. The fourth floor was all but empty. Lyre preferred it this way though. It was quieter.

She forked a mouthful of the pasta, and shoveled in in her mouth in a very unladylike manner. She felt the bed bounce a little when the cat named Mittens (Which she thought was a stupid name. Why not name it something cool, like Elvin for instance? That'swhat she called him anyways, so she guessed it didn't matter) jumped up, and cuddled with the side of her leg. She dangled a piece of noodle in front of him and waited for him to eat it. Mittens/Elvin didn't respond, and ignored the wiggling piece of food. "Stupid cat..." she grumbled as she dropped it into her own mouth,before beginning to stuff the rest of her food into her awaiting mouth.

When she was finished, she set the plate on her dresser that was next to her bed, that also served as her bedside table. She would put it away. Later. She jumped up, and scurried to her bookshelf on the far side of the wall. It was full of the books her father had bought her, and some she had bought herself (Auntie wasn't cruel. She was just indicant. Lyre had a steady allowance).

She pulled out one of her favorites. It was called Eragon, and had a picture of a jewel blue dragon on the front. She sighed. That was the world she wished she lived in. It was just like the stories her father used to weave for her imagination when she was younger.

She laid down on her bed, and began to read, Elvin laying neatly on her chest. She started loosing all track of time, before she started to drift off slowly...

_-_-_-_

When Lyre came back to her conscious, the world around her felt damp, and she could swore she could feel the sun on her face. I must still be dreaming, she told herself. Yeah...She must be dreaming. She reached out to her stomach, and felt Elvin/Mittens soft fur between her fingers. Was this part of the dream?

Lyre bolted up, sending Elvin/Mittens sailing through the air. "Ah-ah-ah!" she shrieked in shock, before getting on all fours to crawl to Elvin through the damp foliage... Foliage?. "I'm sorry Elvin. Mittens. Cat." she said, not thinking of what else she could possibly be doing at that moment. She scooped Elvin into her arms, and warily stood up. Elvin and herself were not in her room. That was certain.

All around her was a bright forest, that reminded her way to much of 'The Lord of the Rings'. The light was shining through the gigantic tree top's, and a few scattered Autumn leaves littered the ground. This was not home. This was not Oregon. Not at all.

"Holy crap." she whispered, as she looked around them. "Where the hell are we Elvin?" she said as she looked around in wonder. The cat mewed, and that was the only answer Lyre got got from him.

"I don't think we're in Kansas anymore Toto." she said, not knowing anything else that could possibly say in that situation.

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