Eragon Chapter Seven

There is something about the average fantasy novel that drives me a little crazy. The fact that people always manage to live just like they do in the modern world minus technology. For example, people often live well into their sixties, barring an orc attack, and disease is so rare you’d think Pestilence was taking a holiday on Mars.

I know that’s a petty complaint considering this is a fantasy novel. When you’re making a world full of dragons and magic it’s probably not a big deal to take out some of the bad things while you’re at it. However, when you have your characters start talking about infection like they know what it is but it’s set in a semi-medieval era that’s worth a good stabbing.

That last statement isn’t a direct jab at Eragon as it is another novel I’m reading for, barring a better term, pleasure. Eragon still irked me though when Brom was talking about the dragons dying when their riders do and Eragon was all ‘ohs noes, my dragon will only live for sixty maybe seventy years?’ Thus insinuating that people live that long just all the time.

This chapter is called ‘a name of power’. Well electricity is kind of a name in that it’s a proper noun or fusion even. Unless, maybe, he’s referring to he-who-must-not-be-named. But how in the world would Eragon know anything about Dick Cheny?

So apparently some stranger from another town came by the blacksmith’s. He needed some sockets and his regular blacksmith doesn’t deal in Cornwell, only Matco. Sure it’s quite a trek but the savings are totally worth it.

No, seriously Chris why do I care? He even tells us this stranger’s name even though their sole purpose is someone for Roran to leave town with. I barely care for the details about those involved with Eragon, let alone some secondary character like Roran. Why not just start telling me about the local barber’s friend’s tailor? Hell, why not pad out the novel with details that are so completely unrelated to the story which don’t even add immersion?

Millers worked all year. During winter they ground whatever people brought them, but in harvest season they bought grain and sold it as flour. It was hard, dangerous work; workers often lost fingers or hands to the giant millstones. “Are you going to tell Garrow?” asked Eragon.

Ask and ye shall receive. First off, if you’re losing fingers to milling you’re doing it wrong. Secondly, who cares? Looking at the cover of this book I see a picture of a blue dragon, not a sack of flour. The protagonist is called Eragon not Glour. Are you trying to establish that this is taking place in ‘olden times’ because I’m pretty sure the mention of both parchment and tunics were more than sufficient.

So Roran is going to follow this guy because he needs the job. He plans on putting away some money so he can afford to get married. After he raises a barn of course and removes all of his buttons lest he be seen as being vain. Yes, Roran is going to be living up that wild ‘amish’ lifestyle they’ve heard so much about in Palancar Valley. Compared to turnip farming it’s got to be a riot.

Eragon gets home and calls out to his flying, firebreathing motorcycle. It turns out that now it can ‘talk’ through the mind link. It says his name and then yes when he asks if that’s all it knows. He whines about Roran leaving, something that is at least in character, before deciding his dragon needs a name.

He offers it a bunch of names which she rejects because she’s a she. Yes, because it would be so terrible if she were to go around named after a male dragon. All the other dragons would laugh at her. You know, the ones that may or may not exist aside from the bad ones.

It kind of makes me wonder what kind of names dragons had before people showed up and started naming them. Did they stop using those once they basically became pets or is it one of those things they keep as a secret? ‘Hello there, Glydor.’ ‘I am not Glybor, I reject my slave name. It’s now McCrunch the third.’ ‘Ooohhhkayyyy.’

Eragon runs through a few more names, skipping over one because it belonged to a brown dragon, before she settles on Saphira, closing the chapter. Oh, very clever Chris. A blue dragon named Saphira. Is there a dragon on Galbatorix’s side named Evik perhaps?

And just what’s wrong with having the same name as a brown dragon? What, are dragons prejudiced against those with different colored scales? That’s got to have made for some extremely awkward meetings at the Dragon Rider’s base. ‘Oh my god, did you see who Druby came with?’ ‘No, who?’ ‘Ferlan, a gold dragon.’ ‘No!’ ‘Yes. And you know what they say about gold dragons…’ ‘Hey guys, what are you talking about?’ ‘Oh, uh, hi Ferlan. Just talking about…sheep and, uh, how tasty they are?’

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