What Really Happened In Eldest?

Chapter 18: On the Subject of Abandonment

It is night. A cold gust of wind stirs the leaves of a large oak tree.

Silence.

Eragon Shadeslayer watches the peace from within his quiet home. He sits by the fire, smoking a pipe contentedly. A monocle rests over his eye, and a top hat covers his head.

I daresay old chap, he mentally communicates to the dragon at his side. What a positively pastoral pastime.

Indeed! Replies Saphira. She adjusts her bowtie and sweater-vest, breathing more flames into the fire. It could not be more dulcet.

Truly.

Eragon strokes his ten-foot beard ( trimmed to topiary-like perfection, naturally ) contemplatively. There is companionable quiet between them for a time.

Saphira. He says, at long last.

Eragon? She responds.

Do you ever miss it?

She frowns, tilting her head to the side. You'll have to elaborate a smidge more, good friend.

The story we were once a part of. With magic and fighting and badly timed slapstick humor. Do you remember it?

I do. She says. Saphira takes a long, steadying breath. I am not sure how I feel about it. I suppose I enjoyed it at the time . . . but that was a long while ago. We were not as civilized then as we are now.

Eragon laughs. No, he says. I don't believe we were.

They are silent once more. Then Saphira speaks again.

I take it you recall how it came to an end.

Mm. Eragon bites down on the end of his pipe. A host of memories rush back to him. Saphira perks up, noticing his heightened distress.

Even now, she says quietly. It still upsets you.

It is a while before Eragon answers. That was a black day for us.

Aye. Saphira shifts her gaze to the Oriental rug beneath her. I will understand if you wish not to speak of it.

No, Eragon says. I was once the hero of Alagaesia. No mere memory can harm me.

Saphira looks at him. She does not answer. As if to prove himself, Eragon continues on.

It was the midst of battle, yes? When it happened, I mean. When she left us.

Saphira is silent. Eragon does not stop.

I remember the feeling quite well . . . felling another one of those fluffy abominations with each swing of my fuchsia war-axe. The battle high was like no other. She ended it there, of course, in the middle of the fight, and so she left me sitting on edge, waiting for the time when I would finally be allowed to kill once more. But she had been lazy in the past . . . preoccupied, she said, with more important matters. And so we waited in vain for a day that did not come when she promised, a day that still, even now, has not become a reality.

Eragon shifts his position in the chintz armchair upon which he rests, and when Saphira catches sight of him, there is something strange and wild in his eyes. She is afraid.

I don't think that feeling ever left me, Saphira. He says. That bloodlust. It's dulled somewhat, of course, over the years . . . but it's still here. Beating within me. Ready to emerge once more, to crush every last man, woman, and child that stands in my way –

Eragon!

He is on his feet. Distracted, he looks at Saphira as if he had only just realized she was there. In response to the concern that is emanating from her, his breathing slows. He sits.

I know what it's like. Saphira says. We all do; we were all abandoned! I was with you though the cold and the dark and the suffering. Those nights were long and fearsome, but look how far we've come since then. Look at what we've made for ourselves, without her help. She pauses, and then continues in a softer tone, one so unlike her fierce, brutish personality. It's been over a year since she last uploaded a chapter. She says. Perhaps it's best if we forget the past.

Eragon tosses his pipe into the fire in disgust. His monocle reflects the flames as they flare up, roasting the wood into a pile of cinders. I am weak. He says.

Nonsense. Saphira responds. Only a beast could go through what you have and feel nothing.

Eragon takes his time. Then, finally he nods. To forget the past . . . it will be difficult.

You are more than capable.

I hope you are right.

Eragon relaxes back into his armchair. Saphira gazes at him for a while, attempting to read his expression, and then settles down on the floor beside him once more.

Silence.

Silence.

Silence . . .

I'm BAAAAAACK!

"ARE YOU #%!&$ KIDDING ME!"

Now, now, everyone . . . calm down . . . !

A crowd of angry characters surrounded the large swirling cloud vortex in the sky, which represented the author. Some carried torches, pitchforks, and in one man's case, a large inflatable pool shark. They were, to say the least, extremely pissed off.

"How could you just leave us like that?"

"For a YEAR! A whole YEAR!"

"Psch, It's been longer than that! I've had seven children since you last bothered to write a new chapter!"

"Uh, No, Bob, it's definitely been a year."

" . . . Okay, whose kids are these?"

"I AM JUST REALLY SUPER ANGRY RIGHT NOW. LIKE SWEET JESUS ON A BICYCLE. I CAN'T STAND IT."

"It's okay, Joe, calm down – "

"I - WANT – TO – SMASH – THINGS – "

"OH MY GOD JOE STOP THAT'S MY FACE - "

I know you're all upset! The author called over all the chaos. And I'm sure you all some incredibly nasty things to say to me. I deserve them. I accept that. But I'm here to tell you that I don't care, at all, whatsoever.

"Butt – butt – butt butt butt –"

No butts. And stop spelling it like that, that's disgusting.

"Butt – "

GO.

There was no convincing her otherwise; The author withdrew into the sky to watch from afar. Try as they might, the characters could do nothing to get her to answer their hate mail, and so, grumbling all the way, they gradually left the crowd and resumed their places for the next chapter.

As they went their separate ways, Arya detached herself from the crowd. "Eragon!" She cried.

He turned, and immediately his face split into a wide smile. "Arya! What've you been doing with yourself for the past year? Sure it was something amazing and fun and cool and enjoyable."

"Prostitution, actually. Recession makes for hard times."

"Really? So if I were to surreptitiously hand you this twenty dollar bill – "

Arya responded with a crushing blow to the ribs, which sent him flying into the air.

"Well, the slapstick humor is definitely back . . . " Eragon groaned.

"Up and Adam, Eragon!" Roran said cheerfully. He offered his cousin a helping hand. "We've got a battle to resume!"

"Eurgh . . . thanks . . . " Eragon grunted as he pulled himself up off the ground. Then his eyes bulged. "Roran?"

"Yep."

"Are you sure?"

"Um, positive."

"Really?"

" . . . I think."

"It really is you!" Eragon leapt into Roran's arms wedding-style, and delivered a crushing hug that knocked the air out of his cousin's lungs.

"How could you tell . . . ?" Roran gasped.

"A mother always knows!" Eragon replied.

"Er . . . "

"When did you get here?" Eragon's face shone like a child's on Christmas.

"Well, over a year ago, if you're going by real time. But within the story, ten minutes ago. Didn't you notice the gigantic ship that fell from the sky?"

"Meh."

"Well, that was me."

"Oh."

At this point Roran attempted to put Eragon down, but his cousin still grinned and held fast.

"Hey, uh, would you mind letting go? My wittle armsies is hurting me."

Eragon blinked once and, still smiling, let out a loud, guttural yell.

"Eragon – Eragon, what are you – "

Eragon continued to shriek like some sort of strange jungle man, completely oblivious to the stares coming from every direction, and Roran's desperate attempts to quiet him.

"Stop – people are looking, Eragon, shut up – Eragon, I'm going to fall over – for Pete's sake shut up – agh, don't you need to breathe or something -"

I've got him. Saphira said. She bent down, clamped her jaw shut over Eragon's head, and pulled as hard as she could.

Eragon's yell did not diminish in volume, even from deep within Saphira's maw.

"RORAN! SAPHIRA! WHAT IN BLAZES IS GOING ON HERE?" Nasuada stormed over, irate.

Um. I may have just decapitated our Dragon Rider.

That's it. Everyone, in your places in ten seconds, or I'm force-feeding you haggis.

"By the gods! Not again! Everyone, run!"

There was a large commotion as the Varden prepared themselves for battle at breakneck pace. Nine and seven-eighths seconds later, with everyone suited up and ready to go, they sprinted onto the battlefield just in time. The

Okay, got your weapons, ladies and gents? Everyone in character? On your marks . . . get set . . . underpants!

One soldier burst into action, yelling with bloodlust – but no one else moved. Confused, he stopped and looked around at his companions, still frozen in their last positions.

Lightning flashed; thunder boomed. The soldier cowered in fear.

I didn't say go!

"But – "

No! You've lost your chance.

The soldier lowered his head in shame, and walked off the battlefield.

Now. The rest of you . . . GO!

Instantaneously, the battle recommenced. Everything was a blur of rainbows and sparkles – for only the most sickeningly adorable weapons could slay the monstrosities that battled the Varden. Fluffy, cute, and available in every shade of the rainbow, Galbatorix's unnatural minions fought our heroes with as much strength and ferocity as one might expect from something as shiny and smiling-y as these things were.

"The – cuteness!" One soldier yelled, violently pink blood coating his armor. "It's – it's too much!"

"You know the man you truly are, Billy! This heart is where you live, THIS HEART - "

"FOR THE LOVE OF GOD I'M FINE JUST STOP TOUCHING ME!"

"BOTH OF YOU SHUT UP AND GET FIGHTING!" Hrothgar yelled. "HONEST TO GOD, I CAN'T BELIEVE EITHER OF YOU, SITTING AROUND AND CHATTING WHILE YOU SHOULD BE – " A bolt of lightning suddenly arched from the sky, striking Hrothgar and knocking him to the ground. " . . . watching your back." He finished, and then he turned into a fish.

A dead fish.

With a moustache.

"NUUUUUUU!"

All of the dwarves immediately dropped everything and fled to the side of their dead king.

What are you idiots doing! Saphira yelled, as she set fire to a flock of killer sheep with a wave of pink flames. The man just died telling you to keep your guard up, and as an ode to his memory, you immediately disregard the battle happening RIGHT FREAKING NOW?

"Yes!" Cried Orik. Tears were streaming down his face. "Of course! Oh, GODS, WHY? . . . Somebody get me a box of Patented Varden Extra Super Soft Quilted Heavy Duty Tear-Mopping Assistance Devices!"

"One truckload of tissues, coming up!" Said a soldier, who dropped his sword and shield and began to skip away.

"No, no, it has to be a box of Patented Varden Extra Super Soft – "

"SHUT YOUR PIE HOLES AND LOOK AT THE SKY!" Nasuada yelled.

There, flying above the battlefield, was an enormous red dragon. And, seated on its back, laughing manically, foam dribbling from his mouth and bolts of lightning arching from his hands was –

"Murtagh." Spat Eragon. He removed his glimmering rainbow weapon from the skull of a dead mermaid and bared his teeth in anger. "Let's get him, Saphira." She let loose a ground-quaking roar and bent down to allow Eragon to mound her, but Roran suddenly stood in his way.

"I got this one, cuz." He said. The camera zoomed in on his eyes ( we have a camera? ), which narrowed as he put on his best sexy-epic-action-hero-face. "I'm a Pokemon Master."

Yep. So it's been a while. Reading Inheritance got me in the mood for this story - which I readily admit I am no longer constantly hyper enough to write as well as I would like to. With any luck I'll finish this one. Can't say anything about Brisingr, going by the fact that I can hardly remember what happens ( Bur since when have plot discrepancies ever stopped me? ), but we'll see. Maybe I'll get a few chapters in before I get bored again. I guess it depends on how many people are actually still following this story after all this time ( TOTALLY not begging for reviews here, I'm much too proud for that, no . . . just asking nicely is all. )