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Ik heb besloten om het eerste hoofdstuk van mijn verhaal, Nihiva, Shur’tugal, op Gavstorm.nl te zetten. Zo hoeven jullie niet naar Shur’tugal Fanfiction om te kijken of jullie het wat vinden. Ik zal ook maar even officieel doen, dan: This story, and all it’s characters are copyrighted by Christopher Paolini. I do not own the rights to the Inheritance Cycle.

Chapter one

,,Skappô garjzla
frá vindr!” A little ball of light appears in front of me. I slip out of bed
and whisper: ,,Tauthr eka.” Quietly I walk out across my room and enter the
hallway. The pulsing ball of light swiftly follows. I walk across the corridor
and sneak into the kitchen. I take some fruit and tiptoe back to my room. Once
there, I eat my catch and stop the flow of magic feeding the light. I turn
around in bed and soon go into my waking dreams.

The next day,
while sparring outside with my friend, Kilean, we discuss the coming of the
Dragon Riders, later that week.
,,Do you think you’ll be chosen as a new Rider?” I ask him, in a pause between
our blows. Kilean is the strongest elf in Du Weldenvarden at this moment. He
has the biggest chance at being the new Rider. ,,I don’t know. I guess I make
as good a chance as any. How about you? You’re the best magician at this
moment. Nobody here makes spells as good as yours. You keep all aspects in
mind. And you never seem to tire.” I shake my head. ,,No, but that’s because
I’m young. In a year or twenty, that’ll be over. Still, you’re the best
fighter. But, ah, what is the chance that we’ll get chosen?” I flick my sword.
,,Come on. Another round? With magic this time?” I grin. But Kilean shakes his
head. ,,No magic. I wouldn’t last a minute, with your spells. Just plain sword
fighting. May your sword be sharp in our showdown.” The fight starts, and we
exchange quick blows and parries faster than any human could ever hope to
handle a sword. Every now and then one of us takes a hit, tearing our skin. We
don’t complain, though. We don’t heal ourselves, either. There’ll be plenty of
time for that after the fight. Eventually Kilean has my sword in a tight grip
with his, and no matter how I try, I can’t move my sword. Breathing heavily I
raise my hand. ,,Eka veîta.” I give up. Kilean grins. ,, Mor’ranr iet vinr,”
Kilean bows to me. I bow back. We unlock our swords and sheath them. ,,Allow
me.” With a phrase in the Ancient Language, I heal our wounds. I can hardly
feel the difference in energy in my body. A side-effect of being a young elf.
Elven-youth have a greatly larger supply of magical energy. We don’t know where
it comes from, but it’s there. It stays for about a millennium, after which it
just.. disappears.
Together, we walk across the training fields, back into the living area. Along
the way, we fantasize about what we’d do if we would be chosen as the next
Dragon Rider. But then we shrug. There is no way we will be chosen. No way.

Elves don’t look forward to things. We’re above such nonsense. Yet the rest of the week I can
feel a kind of tension in the air, in anticipation of the coming Dragon Riders,
who will bring the new eggs. Especially among the elven youth (which would be
me, Kilean and three others) I can almost touch the nervousness. When the day
is finally there, I almost tremble. The Riders will be in Du Weldenvarden by
sunrise, and I am awake long before. What
am I so nervous about? There is no chance that I will be chosen, so why am I
shaking? If the older elves would see me, they would laugh at me. This is so
un-elvish!
I bathe myself until I’m spotless, and I dress in my best clothes. I think
about bringing my sword, but decide not to. I’m
not going to a battlefield. I only have to put my hand on an egg. How would a
sword fit in?

,,Where were
you? They’re about to begin!” Kilean is mad at me. I lost too much time
debating with myself whether to bring my sword or not. And it’s not even that nice a sword! I stretch my neck to look over
the other elves in the cue. At the start of the line are two Dragon Riders.
Next to them, there are two dragons. The left one is a dark shade of yellow,
and the right is brown. I don’t recognize the Riders, but they have a confident,
yet kind aura about them. The dragons just look dangerous. In front of them are
three eggs. One red, one green, one purple. They are the same size as a full
grown elven head, and they appear to be made out of stone. One of the Riders
raises his hand. ,,Can I have your attention?” The long line in front of the
eggs falls silent. I am glad for my sharp hearing, even for elven standards. At
moments like this, it’s a blessing, but at others a curse.
,,We have come here to find a new Dragon Rider to join our ranks. These eggs
might hatch to the touch of their rightful Rider, but make no mistake. The bond
we share with our dragon-companions is a heavy one, and the training is hard.
Those of you who feel they are not up to such a connection, feel free to leave
without feeling bad about yourself. There is no shame in not wanting to give up
all you know and love. Know that there will be a next chance.” I don’t see
anyone leave, so I guess I’ll just have to be patient. I’m not the last in the
line, but close to it.

Slowly, the line
gets shorter, but no eggs have hatched yet. There is a growing crowd of
“rejected” elves near the table with the eggs. There are no angry elves,
because everyone knows there is nothing to be gained from getting mad at an
egg. Finally, one of the eggs hatches. I reach out to see to whom, but it’s too
crowded. I can see that it’s the purple egg that’s broken. After that, no eggs
hatch. When it’s Kilean’s turn, I hold my fingers crossed for him. It’s very
un-elvish, but I do. Kilean touches the green egg, but nothing happens. Then
the red egg. I hold my breath, but it’s in vein. No breaking egg. He smiles at
the Riders, but then walks towards the group of rejects. It’s my turn.
Trembling, I step forward. I bow at the Riders, and at the dragons. I then put
my hand on the red egg. I’m surprised at how cold it is, since it’s lying in
the warm morning sun. Now that I’m touching the egg, I feel calmer. Well, I know that nothing’s going to happen.
So there’s reason to be calm. And as expected, nothing happens. I want to
walk away, but the left Rider grabs my hand. ,,You’re forgetting the other
egg.” I groan. I walk back and put my hand on the green egg. At first, I think
I feel something, but then realize that I’m fooling myself. I start to laugh,
but then I feel it again. Something banging at my hand, on the other side of
the shell. My laughter dies in my throat. In panic I look at the Riders. One of
them raises an eyebrow. ,,I feel..-“ My words are interrupted by a sudden blast
as the egg explodes in a blast of shell-pieces. I yelp in shock and instantly
pull back my hand. Where the egg was, just three seconds ago, now sits a small,
green creature, with bright, yellow eyes. ,,Let it smell your hand, brother.” I
don’t see who says it, because I’m too busy staring at the little being in
front of me. Hesitant, I stretch my hand towards the little dragon. I’m afraid
it will bite me. The dragon stretches it’s neck, sniffing madly. Seeing that
little face and those big, yellow, catlike eyes, make me want to hug the little
hatchling. My hand touches it’s snout, and a sudden, bright flash blinds me for
a couple of seconds. A burning pain runs through my hand and suddenly I feel
something touching my mind. It can’t breach my mental barriers, and I feel it
searching desperately for a hole in the walls around my being. The mind
reaching out to mine feels strange. Alien, in some way. I  realize it must be the dragon. I open my
mind, and it fills my consciousness with feelings of joy and thankfulness. You.. I.. Well.. Hi? I try to send it my
thoughts. The dragon sends back feelings of curiosity and incomprehension. I
realize it doesn’t know any words. I realize my hand still lies on the dragon’s
head, and I pull it away. I want to use a spell to heal my hand, because it’s burnt
by the dragon, but something tells me not to. I look at my hand and see a
shining symbol on my palm. ,,Gedwëy Ignasia,” one of the Riders says. Then he
asks: ,,What is your name, brother?” I mumble my name, but it’s inaudible. The
Rider repeats his question. ,,Nihiva,” I
say aloud. ,,Nihiva, son of Gerowin.” The Dragon Rider shouts loudly:
,,Nihiva, Son of Gerowin! Shur’tugal!”

Chapter one: Translations

Skappô garjzla frá vindr! – Create light from air
Tauthr eka – Follow me
Eka veîta – I yield
Mor’ranr iet vinr – Peace, my friend
Gedwëy Ignasia – Shining Palm
Shur’tugal – Dragon Rider

Zo. Laat weten wat je ervan vond in de Comments, en ook of je het verhaal gaat volgen!

Best wishes,
Gavin.