These chapters are called ‘broken eggs and scattered nest’ and ‘the gift of dragons’
Eragon is busy working on his penmanship and Oromis is pulling yet another Yoda. ‘Concentrate.’ That’s good because I see no other way to defeat Gabby than through a vigorous letter writing campaign. ‘Deer Bear Dear Mister Galbtronix Gobtron Gabtix King, Please let the Varden win. Signed Anomally Annymouse Somebody you don’t know.’
Suddenly Eragon feels a shooting pain in his arm. He assumes it’s Saphira and tries to force himself into her mind but she’s shut him out. He thinks she’s hurt and trying to protect him. I assume Eragon’s having a heart attack and Saphira is hoping to survive when the elves do nothing more than rub a sprig of parsley on him while he dies. One of us is clearly more optimistic than the other. I’m looking at you, Eragon, you damn pessimist.
Glaedr has a wound on his one front paw and refuses to let Oromis touch it. He curls up and refuses to look anyone in the eye. Saphira likes it a little too rough for the old boy’s taste is seems. Oromis tells Eragon he should go to Saphira as she’s hurt more ways than one.
Eragon rides one of those not so intelligent horses out to the mountain. Once there he realizes he knows nothing about scaling rocks and can’t possibly get up there. Again, I guess using magic to make your feet and hands stick to the rock like a lizard would be too easy. Instead Eragon chooses to fly by saying ‘up’. ‘Stand over your brooms and say up in a commanding voice…er I mean say up in the ‘ancient language’ and start flying.’
He finds her in a cave, wiping away all that damn ugly graffiti that was put there by some ancient caveman who seemed fascinated by genitalia. Saphira complains that Glaedr doesn’t want her and here she’s been ready to get to dragon banging since the tenth chapter of last book. She wonders if she’s ugly and Eragon says no dragon is ugly. You know, except for Shruikan because he’s evil. And maybe brown dragons because they’re not the right color.
Saphira tells him she should have listened, she didn’t listen!, to Eragon. Well, he does have the healthiest relationship of them all. Just why the boy with the child’s mentality is offering advice to a dragon who supposedly has racial memories to make her all grown up is beyond me.
She wonders how she will ever face Glaedr after she tried to come onto him. Eragon tells her she will have to start by apologizing. Don’t worry, Saphira. Chris won’t make you do something he’s incapable of. I mean, if he can’t apologize for stealing then why should you apologize for trying to get a little tail?
We start the next chapter off with news that Eragon is about to graduate. It says ‘The days leading up to the Agaetí Blödhren’ which I assume means Eragon’s getting fitted for his gown, renting formal wear for the prom and getting a convertible. From there on out he can complain about how those were his glory days and how he’d give anything to recapture them.
Oh and they were the best of times and the worst of times. Eragon’s back hurts more and more but he’s closer to Saphira than ever. Of course you could show us Chris, but it’s far better than having Eragon make another pot of tea.
Eragon and Arya act like they’re at summer camp and blather on about how, like, it’s so unfair that mom can take away your cell. I mean, I have freaking rights, gawd! Then they go steal some marshmallows from the cupboard and snack on them and leaving the empty bag at the foot of the bed of that fat kid who will be sent home for theft, be permanently scarred and then hang themselves two years later, leaving a note that only says ‘I didn’t take them’ behind.
In turn, Eragon gleaned occasional insights into her own life. He heard mentions of her childhood, her friends and family, and her experiences among the Varden, which she spoke about most freely, describing raids and battles she participated in, treaties she helped to negotiate, her disputes with the dwarves, and the momentous events she witnessed during her tenure as ambassador.
Just what did miss whiny pants witness? ‘One time, we raised four whole dollars through a bake sale for the Varden.’ ‘Wow!’ ‘And then we negotiated a fictional treaty between to warring nations. I figured we should be in practice in case we actually win this long shot and end up needing to know statecraft. Though I wonder if actual kings will settle for a pat on the head and some tea?’
Oh, and it’s customary for people to bring their ‘creations’ to the graduation. Eragon and Saphira are supposed to each bring their own and Oromis tells Eragon it won’t be respected if it’s made by magic and not their own hand. Not that anyone could tell if you did it Eragon. Come on and cheat a little, it’ll make you feel good.
Eragon realizes at this point that he’s a talentless loser. This is a critical point for an author avatar because it’s when they develop the talent the author thinks they have and use it to influence the story. Like Eve in Host, I’m sure it will be something “creative” that involves writing. Saphira says he has his identity which the elves don’t and he can use that. Yes, but only if it weren’t robbed wholesale from someone else.
Eragon tries to think of things that ignite passion in him. And surprise, surprise he keeps drawing a blank. Being nothing more than a cardboard cutout of real heroes, he knows nothing of passions. Instead he’s filled with soft packing peanuts of emotion essence that barely stirs when his heart beats.
Chris takes some pills chock full of hobo emotions and rams them down Eragon’s throat, giving him a few hours of imagined feelings. Eragon feels strongly about Sam the Shade, fighting Gabby and the elves tales. Read too much into that and you might understand why this trilogy got stretched out into a quadrilogy.
Eragon writes a poem, probably about turnips. ‘Oh, dry and flavorless hull of vegetable matter. How I wish there were a way to make you like bacon but fatter. I dreamt of delicious pork. And, er, imagined eating if off a fork.’ ‘Was that it?’ ‘Er, yes?’ ‘It was…definitely different.’ ‘You liked it?’ ‘Uh, let’s prepare for the Agaetí Blödhren.’
The celebration is three days long and celebrates the contract with the dragons as well as Eragon’s graduation. Oromis says Eragon’s work is no masterpiece but it’s still awesome and never mind that he had to say it in English.
They have their celebration. There’s the customary singing, dancing and food. Eragon gets mildly intoxicated and can’t recall exactly what happened. That might have something to do with the funny smelling hand rolled cigarettes he was being passed by Arya. It kept him staring at the fire rather than her chest so it was worth it. Every so often Oromis pulls him out of the throng until the drunk magic, as I am henceforth calling it, wears off and Eragon is a little sober.
If you ever need something to wipe out stray ideas, this particular chapter is good. Blah blah blah and nothing interesting happens. Eragon meets some of the X-men, I mean the elves that did body mods to themselves. His back bothers him twice and nobody cares.
On the third day Eragon reads his poem and does it ever go on. Each line felt like Chris was stabbing me in the brain and making me dumber. At the end everybody fawns over Eragon and how great it was. They say they’ll add his poem to the elves Big Book of Stupid Poetry and Other Things Not Fit for the Bathroom Wall.
The Agaetí Blödhren, I’m getting tired of copy pasting that, is coming to a close and that means one last thing. It involves two elf twins getting naked and dancing around, making a dragon tattoo on their bodies move about. Oromis says this is important to the riders for some reason. I think he just wants to burn through his supply of Cialis. I should mention that the twins are both female and have the two colors of hair that is Tolkien approved. Well, one has black hair and the other has hair the color of burnished silver wire. I’m thinking Chris has a latent robot fetish developed after watching a little anime.
The twins are dancing faster and faster, the usual boring, when oh my god he just ripped off Dragonball. The tattoo rises up, with it’s tail still connected to the twins, looks at Eragon and grants him a wish.
Something happens near his scar, the dragon says ‘out gift to you’ and Eragon passes out. Next a green skinned alien who seeks to assemble the twins so he might gain immortality will appear. His name will be Oboe and he’s from the planet Famek.
Or Eragon’s back problem is gone forever, never to bother us ever again. Eragon’s one(ping!) flaw is completely removed. And why couldn’t mister tattoo dragon heal Oromis then, Chris? ‘Oh, uh, that? Uh, look over there! Dragon’s are really cool aren’t they?’ Ugh, I hate you Chris.
I really hope the elves, being sick of hearing Eragon whine about his back, gave him a hallucinogen (sp?) so the magic dragon he saw was just a placebo.
“get the twins dancing, he’ll forget he even has a back.”
“gee, my back kinda hurts, but i must be imagining it because the magic naked twin dragon made me better!”
It makes far more sense that dragon memory magic or anything else ol’ Paotard could come up with.
That naked dancing elf scene sounds awfully… risque. What would you bet that Paolini had to sneak this one in past his parents?
I would. I would also bet that he’s got a secret stash of Arya/Eragon fiction buried somewhere on a hard drive that he doesn’t talk about. Heck, he draws a bit. There might even be imagery.