“Of course it was a true story!” exclaimed Skarghaz, stomping back to his chair. “We would not tell you a story that said wrong things about the world, Rider.”
“No, I mean, did it really happen? Did Ilgra actually exist? And Vêrmund, and the mountain Kulkaras?”
Skarghaz scratched his chin, a thoughtful look in his yellow eyes. “It is an old story, Rider. Perhaps going back to the time before our kind crossed the sea. But I think the story happened as it says….Even to this day, the Urgralgra often name their daughters Ilgra, and because of her, every one of us knows that there is a Vêrmund we cannot best. It is a good lesson to learn, I think.”
“A good lesson indeed,” said Eragon. In some ways, he had defeated his own Vêrmund in the person of Galbatorix, but there were still things in life he could not overcome—things that no one could. It was a sobering thought. When Eragon was younger, the knowledge would have bothered him to no end. Now, though, he understood the wisdom of acceptance. Even if it didn’t make him happy, it at least gave him peace, and that was no small gift.
Happiness, Eragon had decided, was a fleeting, futile thing to pursue. Contentment, on the other hand, was a far more worthwhile goal.
“The Anointed,” he said, “are those—”
“What in our tongue we call the Kull,” said Irsk.
Eragon had thought as much. “And the Nrech, they are Lethrblaka?” A shadow seemed to descend upon the hall as he named the creatures.
Skarghaz coughed. “Gah! Yes, if you must speak of the blasted things, yes. We are fortunate you killed the last of them, Rider. And you as well, dragon.” He nodded toward Saphira, who blinked once in return.
“If we are so lucky,” said Eragon under his breath. Many a night he still wondered about Galbatorix’s claim to have hidden more of the Ra’zac’s eggs throughout Alagaësia. For Ra’zac, once grown, transformed into Lethrblaka, as caterpillars into butterflies. Even with all Eragon knew of magic, the thought of having to again face the creatures, Ra’zac or Lethrblaka both, was unsettling indeed.
A commotion sounded at the back of the hall, and at the same time, he sensed a disturbance among the Eldunarí in the Hall of Colors.
Alarmed, he struggled to his feet. Saphira hissed and did the same, her claws scrabbling on the floor.
Blödhgarm, Ästrith, Rílven, and the rest of the elves hurried toward them from across the hall. The elves were smiling—beautiful, broad, white-toothed smiles—and their steps were quick and light. It was such a contrast with their usual decorum, Eragon wasn’t sure how to react. He would have found scowls and blank, impassive expressions far less unnerving.
“Ebrithil,” said Blödhgarm, the midnight-blue fur along his shoulders rippling with excitement.
“What’s wrong?” said Eragon. Behind him, he heard stomps and clatters as the Urgals gathered in ranks, as if they expected the elves to attack. At the same time, the minds of the Eldunarí were a riot of conflicting words, thoughts, images, and emotions—a storm of sensations that made Eragon wince and that defied his attempts to decipher.
Saphira shook herself and growled, baring her long white fangs.
Blödhgarm’s smile widened, and he laughed in a delighted fashion. “Nothing is wrong, Ebrithil. Quite the opposite, in fact; everything is right with the world.”
Then Ästrith said, “One of the eggs has hatched.”
Eragon blinked. “One of—”
“A dragon has hatched, Ebrithil!” said Blödhgarm. “Another dragon is born!”
Saphira craned back her neck and crowed toward the shadowed ceiling, and the Urgals stomped and shouted until the entire hall rang with the sounds of celebration.
Eragon grinned, and he threw his cup over his head and let loose with an entirely undignified whoop. All of their hard work—all of the late nights and early mornings, the spells that left him exhausted and the endless worrying about provisions and politics and people—all of it had been worth it.
A new beginning had dawned for the dragons.
NAMES AND LANGUAGES
ON THE ORIGIN OF NAMES:
To the casual observer, the various names an intrepid traveler will encounter throughout Alagaësia might seem but a random collection with no inherent integrity, culture, or history. However, as with any land that different groups—and in this case, different species—have repeatedly colonized, Alagaësia acquired names from a wide array of unique sources, among them the languages of the dwarves, elves, humans, and even Urgals. Thus we can have Palancar Valley (a human name), the Anora River and Ristvak’baen (elven names), and Utgard Mountain (a dwarven name) all within a few square miles of each other.
While this is of great historical interest, practically it often leads to confusion as to the correct pronunciation. Unfortunately, there are no set rules for the neophyte. You must learn each name upon its own terms, unless you can immediately place its language of origin. The matter grows even more confusing when you realize that in many places the resident population altered the spelling and pronunciation of foreign words to conform to their own language. The Anora River is a prime example. Originally anora was spelled äenora, which means broad in the ancient language. In their writings, the humans simplified the word to anora, and this, combined with a vowel shift wherein äe (ay-eh) was said as the easier a (uh), created the name as it appears in Eragon’s time.
To spare readers as much difficulty as possible, I have compiled the following list, with the understanding that these are only rough guidelines to the actual pronunciation. The enthusiast is encouraged to study the source languages in order to master their true intricacies.
PRONUNCIATION:
Alagaësia—al-uh-GAY-zee-uh
Arya—AR-ee-uh
Ästrith—AY-strith
Blödhgarm—BLAWD-garm
Brisingr—BRISS-ing-gur
Du Weldenvarden—doo WELL-den-VAR-den
Ellesméra—el-uhs-MEER-uh
Eragon—EHR-uh-gahn
Galbatorix—gal-buh-TOR-icks
Gil’ead—GILL-ee-id
Glaedr—GLAY-dur
Hruthmund—HRUTH-mund
Ilgra—ILL-gruh
Irsk—URSK
Kulkaras—kull-CAR-us
Murtagh—MUR-tag (mur rhymes with purr)
Nasuada—nah-soo-AH-dah
Oromis—OR-uh-miss
Qarzhad—KWAR-zhahd
Ra’zac—RAA-zack
Rílven—REAL-ven (ríl is a hard sound to transcribe; it’s made by flicking the tip of the tongue off the roof of the mouth)
Saphira—suh-FEAR-uh
Skarghaz—SCAR-ghawzh
Tronjheim—TRONJ-heem
Ulkrö—ULL-kroh
Umaroth—oo-MAR-oth
Urû’baen—OO-roo-bane
Vêrmund—VAIR-mooned
Yhana—YHAW-nuh
THE ANCIENT LANGUAGE:
Argetlam—Silver Hand
Atra esterní ono thelduin.—May good fortune rule over you.
Blödhgarm—Bloodwolf
brisingr—fire
du—the
Du Vrangr Gata—The Wandering Path
Du Weldenvarden—The Guarding Forest
Ebrithil—Master
Eldunarí—a dragon’s heart of hearts
Fell Thindarë—Mountain of Night
finiarel—male honorific for a young one of great promise
garjzla—light
jierda—break; hit
Kvetha Fricaya—Greetings, Friends
Lethrblaka—Leather-Flapper
melthna—melt
rïsa—rise
Shur’tugal—Dragon Rider
vaeta—hope
DWARVISH:
Arngor—White Mountain
barzûl—to curse someone with ill fate
beor—cave bear (borrowed from the ancient language)
dûrgrimst—clan (literally, “our hall” or “our home”)
gor—mountain
Gor Narrveln—Mountain of Gems
Ingeitum—fire workers; smiths
Jurgencarmeitder—Dragon Rider
Mûnnvlorss—a type of dwarven mead
Tronjheim—Helm of Giants
URGALISH:
drajl—spawn of maggots
gorgoth—revenge
Herndall—a group of elderly dams who rule an Urgal clan; also an individual dam who belongs to said group
Maghra—an Urgal game of chance and strategy
nar—a title of great respect
Nrech—Lethrblaka
ozhthim—a female Urgal’s first monthly blood
rekk—an Urgal drink made from fermented cattails
thulqna—woven strips Urgals use to display the crests of their clans, as well as the deeds and lineage of their families
Ungvek—Strong-Headed
Urgralgra—the Urgals’ name for themselves (literally, “those with horns”)
warung—acceptance
AFTERWORD
FROM CHRISTOPHER:
Kvetha Fricaya. Greetings, Friends.
It’s been a while….
This was an unplanned-for book. A bit over two years ago, I wrote the first version of “The Worm of Kulkaras” as a means of clearing my head between sections of a larger sci-fi project. Although I was pleased with it, “Worm” by itself was too short to publish. Thus it sat on my computer, alone and abandoned, until the summer of 2018.
At that point, I got an urge to write a story about Murtagh I’d long had in mind. This became “A Fork in the Road.” I sent both that and “Worm” off to my editor at Knopf. Meanwhile, my sister, Angela, proposed writing a vignette from her character’s point of view. And hey, presto! Before I knew it, we were in talks to release this anthology that same year. (For those of you not familiar with publishing, that is a highly accelerated schedule.)
I’d always imagined returning to Alagaësia with a full-sized novel. However, doing it this way made for a wonderful experience. Getting to dip into the heads of some of the characters from the Inheritance Cycle—as well as a few new ones—was a real treat for me. Writing about Eragon and Saphira after so many years was like returning home after a long journey.
Plus, I finally proved to myself that I could turn out a book that was shorter than 500 pages. Success!
Short it may be, but as with every book, The Fork, the Witch, and the Worm would not exist without the hard work of a whole team of people:
My wonderful parents, who continue to provide the same love, support, and editing as they have all my life. I owe them more than I can say. Couldn’t have done this without you!
My sister, Angela, who still has a good sense of humor about her brother portraying her as a fictitious character. Without her, the middle section of this book wouldn’t exist (she wrote the chapter “On the Nature of Stars”), nor would “The Worm of Kulkaras,” which was born out of a conversation we once had about a rather unsuccessful movie. She was also my first-pass reader and helped edit all the stories in this collection, and they are much improved as a result, especially “A Fork in the Road.” Thanks, Sis! You always push me to grow as a writer.
My assistant, Immanuela Meijer, for building me an Inheritance-themed wiki (woo-hoo!), her thoughtful editing, and doing such a beautiful job colorizing the map at the beginning of this book.
My literary agent, Simon Lipskar, who has been not only a friend but a powerful advocate for my work. A heartfelt thank-you! Next time, sushi is on me.
My editor, Michelle Frey, who did her usual bang-up job in shaping this book into something respectable. It was a pleasure to once again face down some deadlines with you! And thanks for helping me to finally master Track Changes.
Also at Knopf: Barbara Marcus, head of Random House Children’s Books. Judith Haut, associate publisher of Random House Children’s Books. Executive copy editor Artie Bennett, cruciverbalist and word-wrangler extraordinaire. Director of copyediting Alison Kolani for her sharp-eyed suggestions. Marisa DiNovis, assistant editor. Art director Isabel Warren-Lynch and her team, who made this book look so beautiful. John Jude Palencar, who painted the amazing cover. Seriously, just look at it! Dominique Cimina, publicity and communications director at Random House Children’s Books, and Aisha Cloud, publicity manager, and all the rest of the awesome marketing and publicity crew, as well as everyone else at Random House who helped make this book happen. You have my profound gratitude! I’d also like to acknowledge former Knopf publishing director Jennifer Brown for her support.
A special mention goes out to fellow author Fran Wilde, who was kind enough to read an early version of “The Worm of Kulkaras” and provide me with some useful feedback. Thanks, Fran! I owe you one.
And of course…the biggest thanks of all go to you, the reader. Without your support throughout the years, none of this would have been possible.
As the elves would say, “Atra esterní ono thelduin.” Or, “May good fortune rule over you.”
Christopher Paolini
December 2018
FROM ANGELA:
This book only exists because of all the exemplary people Christopher already thanked. Those who particularly helped with my small contribution to the story are:
My parents! I would not be who I am today without their care, dedication, and love. Huge thanks to my mother for her insightful editorial remarks.
Christopher, for his tireless work creating the land of Alagaësia and so many new worlds that readers will soon get to visit. He kindly invited me to play with his characters and, once again, lend my voice to Angela the herbalist, this time in prose, not just dialogue.
Immanuela Meijer, for her daily work on everything Paolini, as well as her incomparable depth of knowledge of Christopher’s invented lands. She keeps new stories consistent with all the details of past tales.
All the hardworking people at PRH, whose speedy responses brought this book to your hands just months after its inception. Special thanks to Michelle Frey, who is not only the stalwart editor of all things Alagaësia but also a wonderful, kind person and a dear friend.
Simon Lipskar, for his incomparable knowledge of the business of publishing and fierce defense of the work.
And my dear Caru, who worked by my side as I wrote this story; you are a good bean.
Angela Paolini
December 2018
PHOTOGRAPH BY IMMANUELA MEIJER © 2016
BY PAOLINI INTERNATIONAL LLC
Christopher Paolini’s love of fantasy and the natural beauty that surrounds his home in Montana inspired him to begin writing the Inheritance Cycle at age fifteen. He became a #1 New York Times bestselling author at nineteen and spent the next decade immersed in the world of Alagaësia. Also an accomplished artist, Christopher drew the interior art for the books. In his spare time, he enjoys sharpening knives, playing video games, lifting heavy things, and searching for the perfect leather-bound notebook.
paolini.net
@paolini
@PaoliniOfficial
@christopher_paolini
What’s next on
your reading list?
Discover your next
great read!
* * *
Get personalized book picks and up-to-date news about this author.
Sign up now.
The Fork, the Witch, and the Worm Page 13