This was my entry for the books n more valentine's contest- just so you know, these were the entry requirements (thanks to Annie):



And here's my winning entry (I only won because nobody else entered! lmao. Anyway...)


Brom and Selena

Part 1- The Meeting

We met that night,
When the sea ran high.
And I craved for more
Of that near-love experience.
Those who the music hath then joined together,
Are now put asunder....
”Gravenimage”- Sonata Arctica

A beautiful energy surrounded the sea-side city- throughout the poorest suburbs riddled with poverty, right up to the richest most extravagant manor houses, a buzz of excitement rung throughout the air. For the first time ever since a dark-hearted rider had claimed the throne, a group was working to rebel against the terror filled reign of Galbatorix. Rumours of the Varden were frantically whispered around Tierm until a giant warrior of hope leading an army of the most powerful creatures known to man was apparently hidden somewhere in Alagaesia. Brom knew the exaggeration in the tales was completely beyond unbelievable, not to mention exceedingly far from the reality, but at least it was spreading hope over the land like butter over toast.

In the warmth, yet crispness of autumn dusk, torchlight glowed softly against the inner city walls like fragile fireflies, enough to light the way but still leave a tinge of mystery in the soft shadows of evening. The young rider pushed a hand back through his scruffy brown hair, and took a deep refreshing breath of untainted sea air. His deep thoughtful brown eyes searched the roads ahead of him as he sauntered into the city centre. Here and there people emerged from their abodes, warily, but in a sense of euphoria, and continued in the direction in which Brom himself was heading. The man was not one to miss a celebration, especially if there was free alcohol to be had!
Don’t do anything stupid. A stern, deep voice advised him with a hint of humor.
You know me, he replied silently, and smiling as if to a fond memory or thought. I’m always careful.
But even a “majestic” rider such as yourself is not immune to the brain-addling properties of drink. She replied sarcastically, but somehow deadly serious at the same time. Brom detected the tiniest change in her mood simply through the way she spoke, and replied appropriately.
I’ll keep a clear head- I promise you Saphira. He assured his dragon companion, who was sheltering in a cave set in a cliff face not far from Tierm.
“Clear enough to walk that is…” he slyly muttered out loud to himself, frosty vapour like smoke from a dragon’s breath whisking from his throat as his words came into contact with the sharp air.

After a brief stroll through the city outskirts which seemed mismatched in all places (little were the residents to know exactly how the buildings would be rearranged after a ferocious attack), Brom arrived in the centre square. People were gathered together in a loose group, and musicians had began to play. Some were dancing from sheer spirit, others joking and laughing with friends and acquaintances, and most helping themselves to free beer or lager from nearby anti-empire tavern owners. Guards under the ever tightening control of the King were standing stiffly around the edge of the square, but technically, the gathering was not illegal. They could do nothing to prevent a simple street-party, even if they knew the reason was a rumor that could earn imprisonment if muttered. Indeed they themselves hadn’t heard anyone here speaking of the Varden, but co-incidentally, all the city soldiers knew what was being said already. As Brom approached the celebrations, he immediately strolled towards the stack of barrels, and fumbled around for a glass, warily eyeing the guards, and concealing a portion of his face with a scarf draped loosely around his neck.

The evening wore on, and the dancing continued. The merriment was infectious, and Brom could not help himself conversing with the locals, sharing jokes and stories. As the drink flowed, and the music played, talk of the rebels wore down, and people gradually forgot what the celebration had been about in the first place. Indeed, Brom was lost in the jubilation, and grew more care-free than he had felt since he had first become a rider, terrible as the thought was, it had brought much responsibility, and though he would never give Saphira up for anything in the world, he sometimes wondered what life would have been like without her. Midnight was fast approaching, and a fever seemed to grow amongst the multitude- the music stepped up a beat, and more people began to dance. Firelight flickered amongst the crowd, swaying gracefully over faces and figures before they floated breezily back into the retreat of the dark of midnight.

Suddenly, Brom felt an overwhelming urge to join them, dance with the town’s folk, indulge in their own little lives and be normal for once. As he stepped forwards, he stood tall and proud, an aura of alcohol-induced cockiness and confidence surrounded the youthful man as he spotted a beautiful young woman flitting around the edge of the group as though searching for something she had lost. Before he could stop himself, he strutted forwards and carefully clasped her hand as though another force was controlling his thoughts- a force like the magic he had once felt in Du Weldenvarden, the magic that encourages life itself to go on. The girl spun around quickly, eyes wide, but did not pull away. Brom just smiled, holding eye contact, the pair made their way into the swirling clutch of couples, and began to dance without a word. As Brom gazed into the woman’s eyes, everything became clear. It was as though he had never sipped a beer that night, never seen the huddled assortment of people captured in the grasp of hope and midnight, never heard the musicians playing songs of celebration, and never even been different from his childhood friends. They say the eyes are a gateway to the mind, and the woman’s seemed as deep as any- he did not need magic to see the very reason of their existence. He saw life, strength, passion, determination, but the quantity of pain and regret surprised him.

Brom! he ignored the panicked call in his head.
As they leant towards each other, Brom could no longer hear the music,
Listen! Brom!
Could no longer discern the laughs of drunken men,
BROM! Quickly!
Could no longer see the crowds around them,
BROM! YOU HAVE TO LISTEN TO ME!
all he saw was the woman for whom his life was the purpose to love.
GET AWAY FROM HERE!
As soon as their lips touched, screams erupted around them. The noise violently shook Brom back into waking state, and back into the fuzziness that clouded his mind. Black shapes jumped around them, and the man was confused. In the chaos, he had lost his dance partner, without even asking her name. He stumbled as he struggled to keep his balance amongst the fleeing people, and against the free beer. He could no longer hear Saphira, but noticed that Ra’zac were flooding the city centre. He had never seen these creatures before- knew not how to defeat them. Perhaps they were here to find him? The rider fumbled for his sword at his side, practically hyperventilating out of shock and trepidation, but his trusty sapphire blade was gone. In a last attempt, he reached for the little cavern of light in his mind where he could tempt the magic to his palm. It was no good; he hadn’t kept a clear head like he had promised. Frantically, he sprinted around the area, searching desperately for the woman. Suddenly, he spotted her on the other side of the square.
“Who are you?” he cried desperately, still darting towards her. “What’s your name?”
“Selena!” the maid called back.
“Brom!” he replied, stretching his arm out to within and inch of her hand, before the ground unexpectedly hit his face. A searing pain invaded the back of his head, a hot sticky liquid trickled down the nape of his neck, and he felt himself rise into the air before dropping into darkness.

Brom groaned and rolled over. His head felt as though it has been partially severed from the top of his neck. He could barely remember the night before, and groggily cracked his eyes open. A bright stream of morning light fell directly upon his face, and he brought an arm up to cower from the piercing sunbeam. Wincing, he pulled himself into a sitting position, and reached for the back of his head. The blood was still there, but dry now, and his neck was caked in it. He immediately pulled his hand away as he felt a sharp stinging when his fingertips brushed the open cut. Gasping in pain, he turned to examine his position. He was still in the place he had fallen, but the square was clear of people. Only a cat sat watching him with bright eyes, and a nervous face peered around a corner before speechlessly turning and dashing back down the alley they had come from. Bewildered at this behavior, and why nobody had tried to help him when they saw he was injured, he twisted around to see Saphira’s enormous glittering head peering at him from a passage which she couldn’t fit through to reach him. He could instantly tell she was angry from the way she held her neck so rigidly, and stared at him intensely. He winced again, but this time, not from the pain in his head. It was only a matter of seconds before the rider became uncomfortable under his dragons unforgiving gaze, and felt the need to explain himself.
Saphira… I… he stopped as he suddenly remembered Selena. What happened Saphira? To the girl?
I told you. She replied, ignoring his question. I told you not to drink.
Saphira, that’s not important- I want to know…
NOT IMPORTANT?! The dragon thundered. YOU COULD HAVE DIED!!! Brom jumped.
Please, not so loud! He pleaded with her.
I’ll be as loud as I please- after what you did, you deserve a headache! she retorted, and despite the years of knowing each other so closely, Brom was a little frightened. Seeing Saphira angry wasn’t a pretty sight, beautiful as she was…
After a time of looking past Saphira onto the path behind her to clear his mind, Brom bowed his head, feeling the cut open again from the force of the tiny movement. Nevertheless, he didn’t even flinch.
Saphira- I’m sorry. He told her with all the emotion he could muster. She snorted. I was foolish, I should have kept my word. Can you ever forgive me? He raised his head again, and looked deep into her huge sapphire eyes. This time it was the dragon’s turn to grow uneasy. A few minutes of silence past, before Brom heard her once again.
Of course, I could forgive you for anything. Brom felt relief surging throughout him. But know this Brom, you could have died. All because you wouldn’t listen to me. All because you didn’t take my advice, you didn’t keep a clear head. Once more, Brom felt the guilt surge throughout him, and brought up a sick feeling, induced by regret and the hangover. He didn’t mention it, but he could not stop fretting about Selena. Although he had tried to close his mind around these thoughts, Saphira didn’t need their telepathic connection to read his thoughts and feeling like a book.
No, I haven’t seen her since. She informed him. Brom seemed to collapse on this inside. He felt his stomach drop, and the sick feeling coming up once more.
Have you searched? he asked desperately. Saphira nodded her huge head. Brom let out a choked sob.
I managed to frighten those… creatures… off before they could capture you, but I expect reinforcements will return before midday. She informed him. Brom nodded, not really listening.
Saphira, I cannot believe I feel this way. I’ve listened to singing of the elven women of Ellesmera, traveled to the depths of the mysterious Beors, seen the sun rise from the heights of spine, and soared above the clouds watching the landscape fly by, but nothing… nothing can compare to what I felt for that woman. And with that, he buried his head in his hands, and bled for her.



Part 2- Preparation

I’d give my everything to you
Follow you through the garden of oblivion
If only I could tell you everything
The little things you never care to ask me
“Broken”- Sonata Arctica

The night was a bitter cold one, darkness swum around the village in a sea of ignorance.
They have no idea… Selena thought to herself sourly as she waited nervously at the side of the frozen road. Huge pine trees loomed either side of her enclosing her further, just as trapped as she felt in her very own mind. It was as though a wild animal which had been filled with eagerness only days before was now crying and tossing itself recklessly again the inside of her skull. Soon he knew it would lose it’s ever fading energy and retreat to a dark corner of her mind, to snarl angrily and snap at passing hopes and dreams as it whimpered and struggled to heal it’s wounds deepened by her own fear and dread.
Tiny specks of light fluttered not far behind her like the delicate wings of a pure white butterfly caught in a soft summer breeze, but she didn’t notice them, nor the wide eyed red deer peering from the shadowing shelter of the forest. All she could think about was what was to come. She had seen Brom a few months ago, after so many years of searching, but dedication to fighting had called him away once again. They both knew what he had to do, and tears began to dance with a dreadful grace down her time and stress worn face as she recalled that this could be the last time she saw him.

Carvahall had been the perfect place to meet- she planned to stay with her brother Garrow once Brom had left, if she couldn’t convince him otherwise that was. Plus, nobody would think of looking for her in such an insignificant place huddled next to the spine, Brom didn’t know it yet, but she was being searched for, night and day by most of the Empire‘s servants, including Morzan, Galbatorix’s right hand-man.

Her heart jolted with anticipation as she saw a figure striding purposefully towards her up the road, footsteps crunching softly against the dirt hardened by the night. Brom might be considerably older than he was when they first met, but he had never once faltered because of age, never hesitated to fight for what he believed in, nor show any sign of weakness. This confidence showed in the way he walked even now, in the early morning, not far past midnight. Then again, Selena was no different herself. She had single-handedly fooled the most powerful people in the land by escaping their clutches to once more go in search of the man she truly loved- it was no easy feat.
“Brom!” she cried, tears of joy, relief and worry flooding her face. Her hair was not perfect, her stress was marking her once youthful beauty, and fleeing with little money had considerably affected the quality of her clothes purchases, but the bold man never hesitated in embracing her with all his protection and love. Gently stroking her hair, he allowed her to sob into his shoulder before speaking what they were both thinking.
“You know I have to go.”
“Brom, can’t you…” she began.
“Please, don’t try and talk me out of it.” He replied, his heart splitting open with her pleading words. Selena held his gaze.
“We can’t go on like this.” she muttered. “We can’t go on living in fear of what will happen.”
“Once I have done what I must, you needn’t.” Brom assured her. Selena shook her head gently. Her heart ached desperately to tell him everything, but her mind told her not to. She feared what he would say. But he had to know.
“But I will Brom. There’s something you don’t know.” She bit her lip, not daring to look at his expression. He gently wiped a tear from the corner of her eye- a simple sign of letting her know that whatever she must say, it could never alter how deeply he felt for her. Face upturned to his, Selena took a deep breath.
“Brom…” she began, and fresh tears began to flow. “He’s my husband.” Silence settled upon the air for several minutes, until Brom clasped his hand more firmly around her shoulder. Selena’s heart hammered in her chest until she was sure it would just leap straight out and hit the man she was facing.
“Who?” he asked in no more than a whisper. It wasn’t threatening or hostile though- just fearful, and Selena got the feeling he already knew the answer.
“The one you are setting out to kill.” Brom closed his eyes, his fears had been confirmed.
“Morzan.” He uttered the name of his most beloved friend, and most hated enemy.

As the pair stood there in the early hours of the morning, Brom glimpsed a lantern light approaching them from the direction of the farmhouse. He sniffed, and straightened his back. Selena noticed how he suddenly seemed so much older, as though the weight of knowledge he didn‘t want was trying to force him into the solid earth.
“No matter.” He replied. “You don’t want him any more?”
“Of course not!” The distraught woman let out a choked sob, leaning her head against his shoulder.
“Then it is settled. I will go and fight to dispose of this evil man.” Brom suddenly felt double the hatred for Morzan than he ever had before, burning an everlasting hole through his heart.
“Wait- there’s something else you must know…” Selena spluttered as Brom turned to leave.
“Not now- we have no time.” He pointed to the figure fast approaching them. “We must not be seen.” He stated sternly, and on that note, the noble man turned on his heel and promptly marched away towards the village.
“But I just… I want you to be safe…” Selena whispered, watching him go with a burning longing to leave with her lover, before turning to meet her approaching brother, Garrow illuminated in the lantern light.



Part 3- Aftermath

I close your eyes, kiss you goodbye.
The only one who ever loved me.
I'm crushed inside, darling, my life, it shall end here
Headstone on your grave, words carved in vain,
Now the darkness covers me...
“The Ruins of my Life”- Sonata Arctica

A fire crackled feebly in the sooty hearth of a cosy, yet cluttered home. The dusk was a warm one, but Brom seemed to have grown ancient over just the few months since he had murdered Morzan, and felt the cold a lot more. Anyway- a friendly fire was a comfort to him. Scrolls, books and curious ornaments littered the tables, floor and shelves, which had been collected over many years of travelling. A flowing silver beard covered Brom’s cloaked chest, and he held a rider’s sword in his withered hands, turning it over and over by rotating the hilt, watching shapes from the flames flicker furiously across the blood red blade. It had brought about nothing good, this weapon, and Brom hardly knew why he kept it. True, he did like to gather objects, souvenirs, if you will, of his travels and experiences, but nothing that had caused such evils as this in its past. It brought about nothing but terrifying, heartbreaking memories, and the old man hardly needed a sword any more- though he never stopped regretting having lost his own. Depression had weakened his body, and memories had repressed his once adventurous mind. Maybe, somewhere in the back of his consciousness, the ex-rider knew that it would be of tremendous use to another, and for that reason he must store it safely for use by future generations, to ensure that its disastrous past was turned into a honorable future.

A hurried knocking at the door interrupted his reminiscing, and he hastily returned the sword to its sheath, the tool of destruction rasping menacingly as it slid into place as easily as it would between two ribs. Storing it tenderly upon a high shelf, Brom straightened his clothes, and shuffled to the door. “Who is it?” he questioned irritably, opening the door a crack- paranoia had been gradually dominating his life for a while now.
“It’s me,” Brom lifted his eye-brows at the meager reply, which everyone seemed to think was an acceptable answer. “…Garrow. I have news.” A muffled voice came form beyond the wood. Brom stopped, and his heart leapt a beat. He was not sure if dread or excitement was overwhelming his mind, but he didn’t care what happened now, he just wanted to know. Tearing open the door, he beckoned Garrow inside. Brom gestured for him to take a seat, and closed the door with a gentle click. All of a sudden, he felt his senses were heightened, he could smell the strong tea leaves bubbling in the pot over the fire, feel the rough grain of the wood under his palm, see the shadows race each other across the walls just to jump into nothingness.
“You said you have news?” Brom interrogated eagerly, lowering himself carefully into the armchair opposite Garrow. The old man nodded sorrowfully, and Brom immediately knew it was bad news. His eyes clouded and his stomach seemed to twist inside him as Garrow slowly began his short story.
“It was only this morning I heard, but I have been inside all day- Marian isn’t feeling her best.”
“May good fate watch over her.” Brom muttered a quick condolence, but looked on desperately wanting to know what had become of Selena. He had returned to Carvahall after his encounter with Morzan, just to find Selena gone, and Garrow just as worried about what had become of her as Brom was. The farmer sighed in exasperation, and weariness, and leant his elbow on the table, rubbing the same hand across his brow as he did so.
“But there’s something you should have known ever since you returned.” Garrow looked up to the village storyteller, and saw many years of secrets, mystery, and powerful struggles.
“I regret not letting you know for so long, but what with the intensity of your battles, and finding Selena missing, I stupidly kept it from you.” Brom keenly leant closer to hear what Garrow had to say. “Before my sister left, she gave birth, to a baby. A boy…” Brom was completely astounded, and felt as though he was going to be sick, but Garrow continued before he could get a word in, and Brom was glad he had managed to preserve his dignity but not losing his lunch.
“She named him Eragon, and asked that we raise him for her. She didn’t mention the father, or where she was going. She just disappeared the day afterwards.” Brom flapped his mouth stupidly, desperately trying to think of something to say, but ended up looking like a particularly unintelligent fish instead.
“But that was months ago…” Garrow reminded him. “I recently got word from a passing trader that Morzan’s wife was dead.” Garrow paused, with watery eyes, Brom just gazed into the distance as though he could see right through the wall. A meaningful silence was shared between the two, before Garrow injected what he though to be a little optimism.
“But of course, a lone trader… I cannot tell how reliable this information is.” he shrugged, and pulled himself up out the chair. Garrow patted Brom gently on the shoulder, before turning to creak the door open again.
“I’m sorry…” he muttered, before slipping outside into the loneliness of night.

You would have won anyways, it was yummie.

ummmm yummie bammbanggg?

it was great firetongue

It was good way bedder then anything i could right

Ya dude that was a real great love story but it kind of is wrong cause that is not wat happens in Eragon cause Selena married a different dragoan Rider and I dont think Brom ever liked Selena but u got to admit that was a darn good story