Be aware, this is not a happy story, though I plan for it to have a happy ending.

I'm a freelance; a random writer, and a random poster. This is my first story in two years, and I believe it's good enough for all your prying eyes. This story is my writing, indeed; but the characters... they speak for themselves.
Slightly ooc Arya; tormented Eragon; dead Galbatorix. A
Enjoy!

The muted squeak of wood melted molded to the other sounds of the room. Quiet breathing, popping fire wood, grinding as wood met stone, and the massive thrumming breath of the sleeping dragon twisted and intersected in ways that only the one sitting in the room could bother to decipher.

There was another gentle pop from the fire and the great sapphire dragon twitched, her vibrant blue scales reflecting purple shafts of flickering light from the fire.

The moon was just cresting above his home when he felt and heard a notorious sound coming from his pocket. He removed the walnut sized device and flicked the knob that would deactivate it. He clenched his teeth, as he struggled to contain the torrent of emotions that threatened to dissolve his fragile sanity.

This was a day of mourning. Mourning for his father Garrow, mourning for his father Brom, mourning for his Dwarven foster father Hrothgar, mourning for his brother Murtaugh, and mourning for his master and teacher Oromis.

The sapphire dragon raised her large head, surprising the man in his seat- for he hadn't known that she had woken- and touched his brow with her snout, nuzzling for a moment. Happy day of Birth, Little one.