Eragon Chapter Forty

I have to wonder, just what can Murtagh add to the story here? I mean, Eragon has everything. He’s got his magic, the dragon, an enchanted sword and the favor of the author. Murtagh told us that he’s good enough to be a royal blade monkey or something like that. It’s not like he’s in dire need of training anymore.

I’m guessing that Murtagh will spend the rest of the book reassuring us that Eragon is awesome. ‘Wow, I’ve never seen anyone cast magic like that!’ ‘Yes, I am quite special. What with being the last dragon rider and all.’ ‘Oh my god! I’ve never seen anyone drain a bottle of Jack like that!’ ‘I trained under my uncle for fifteen years before being taken under the wing of the drunkest man in Alagaësia.’ ‘Wow, I’ve never seen anyone take a nap like that! What skill you possess!’ ‘Okay, okay, shut up already! I’m trying to sleep!’

This chapter is called ‘Du Sundvar Freohr’.  Chris must have been drunk when he came up with that one. ‘Chris? Why has your father’s scotch gone missing?’ ‘Hooow,dare you. You sunofva frower.’ ‘Did you just call me a son of a flower?’ ‘Er, maybe?’

The first thing Eragon notices is that he’s warm and not tied up. That seems to be the first thing he notices whenever he comes to, whether he’s tied up or not. It makes me wonder if he wasn’t into some strange bondage games that took place in a meat locker for the added thrill of being near easily accessible hooks.

Dried blood cracked on Eragon’s face when he moved. It took him a moment to remember that it was not his. His head hurt horribly—which was to be expected, considering the blow he had taken—and his mind was strangely fuzzy. He tried to use magic, but could not concentrate well enough to remember any of the ancient words. They must have drugged me, he finally decided.

Yes, they must have slipped you a roofie. Why else would you wake up in a strange place, in a strange bed? It couldn’t have been the Dragon’s Breath body shots you were doing off of Saphira.

Then he realizes something is terribly wrong. He was captured by Urgals not men. Urgals are known for their courteous hospitality and fresh cinnamon buns waiting outside the cell every morning. The men holding him bring him stale bread and cabbage water, indicating that he’s being held by the Bucket family.

Eragon eats, he naps, he gets woken up by the noise outside. He looks outside and sees some imperial soldiers marching in step and looking mean. All we need is John Williams playing the Imperial March for us to get how evil they are. Oh, and two of them are carrying a dark haired girl between them.

Eragon knows it’s the girl from his dreams, he’s sure of it. It’s not like there are any other dark hair girls in the whole world nor would the king be holding any other women. In fact, that dark haired girl is the very first one on record as being arrested. Up until then women simply walked into the King’s court, said ‘but I’m a lady’ and walked back out. That girl had to be made an example of after she stabbed sixteen guards to death in their sleep though she assured the court it was self defense.

Eragon’s blood burned as he looked at her. Something awoke in him—something he had never felt before. It was like an obsession, except stronger, almost a fevered madness. Then the woman’s hair shifted, revealing pointed ears. A chill crept over him. She was an elf.

Yes, Eragon feels a stirring downstairs and is suddenly ashamed of all the anti-elf rhetoric his uncle and he engaged in at the town hall. Now he’s wondering what it takes to make an elvish girl look his way. ‘Well let’s see, Brom said my ears would turn pointy from owning Saphira, I’ll just wear my hair long until that happens and then I’ll pretend to belong to a lost elf tribe or something. Then I’ll offer her a ride on my dragon. Too bad it isn’t a Ferrari.’ ‘Um, I have a name, Eragon and I thought I was pretty special.’ ‘Shut up, talking lizard. This is why I wish you were a Ferrari. Then I wouldn’t be putting up with your back sass.’

The soldiers continued marching, taking her from his sight. Next strode a tall, proud man, a sable cape billowing behind him. His face was deathly white; his hair was red. Red like blood.

Oh no! A goth! I thought they were all wiped out in the great emo flood of two thousand four! Oh, it’s the shade. The thing that smote the girl and made her fall down and go boom. He gives Eragon a look of evil intent because that’s what you do.

Apparently the soldiers should have killed the shade because that’s what you do to red haired folks that work third shift. Eragon has tuckered himself out staring out the window and goes back to sleep.

Eragon Wakes: 24

The ‘shade’ comes into Eragon’s cell. He wants Eragon’s true name, not the handle he uses in the forums. The he says he’s there to gloat and suggests that Eragon could serve him rather than Galbatorix. Damn, who would have thought the second in command would be a treacherous lout. Next you’ll tell me the princess has a regal bearing and an air of command.

Slim Shady notices that Eragon hasn’t been drinking his water. Concerned that Eragon will suffer dehydration he orders them to give Eragon an extra does and then leaves. Eragon, in a state of dementia brought on by lack of water, begins to panic. He’s now hydrophobic and trapped in a small cell which only hinders his sanity check. If he loses he’ll have to take another psychosis.

The princess gets dragged in front of his cell to another one. Like a puppy in a shelter, he runs back and forth at the edge of his cage, barking excitedly at her until she’s out of sight. Then he decides he’ll have to wait. What for, I don’t know, but surely waiting around will provide the answers.