Author's Note: The title is definitely "NOT" an innuendo. Nope, no way. My muse is in the gutter XD

The Eldest's Inheritance of Eragon's Brisingr

AKA: Mental Insanity

Part One: The Beginning

Wind howled though the night, carrying a sulphurous miasma that would change the world. A tall Shade sniffed the air, only to gag on the horrid aroma wafting through the tree.

He blinked back tears of pain. He might have been surprised by the accuracy of the message he'd received from the Ra'zac a few days earlier had it not been for the pain his nose was in. He grinned at the memory. They didn't stop by very often, being empirical assassins for the king, but when they visited his usual mundane days of boredom with the humans he worked with were quickly forgotten as the three of them took the time to engage in the sport of human wrangling. It was fun watching creatures with the mental stability of lemmings fight each other to the death. He chuckled as images of the smaller Ra'zac filled his head. She was a spunky little bugger, with more sarcasm and wit than most stand up comedians; not that he would actually know. He didn't watch comedy very often, preferring the blood and gore of a torture chamber instead. If only the smaller Ra'zac had been human; he was quite sure he would have been smitten with her. She was certainly a good swordsman… and probably would have made a good masseuse in a different life, if her skill with slathering seithr-oil on nude prisoners was any indication. His stomach coiled and he was jolted back into reality.

Peering around a thick tree, he gazed up the moon-lit trail. While the moon would have provided insufficient light for a human; to his eyes it was like a silver sun, and after such memorization, he found himself in a fantastical moonlit stroll with a tall hunchbacked cloak-clad warrior-woman hanging on his arm.

He remained unnaturally quiet -he was typically an obnoxiously boisterous free spirit- as he stood waiting and imaging inappropriate moonlit strolls.

Behind him, a dozen Urgals groped like blind beggars as they shuffled on thick bowed legs into their hiding spots and pulled out their swords with brutish arms.

"Silence," he hissed irritably. They were loud creatures, and utterly worthless on a stealth mission. He'd only brought them along, because they'd made him angry the day before, and because there would be no excitement on this mission without some sort of handicap to make it exciting.

And owl screeched and one of the Urgals jumped, snapping a small tree in half as he slipped in a pile of leaves. The shade hissed angrily, and the other Urgals shrank back.

Forcing aside his impatience he waited as minutes became hours. The rank smell must have travelled far ahead of its owners. He did not let the Urgals move toward the fire to warm themselves- they would make too much noise. He denied himself that luxury too, although he did pull a blender form out of thin air to make himself a strawberry, banana, lime, kiwi, coconut, tapioca, orange, pizza, anchovy smoothie.

After downing the freezing concoction, he put the blender and the glass he didn't have two seconds before inside of a hollow in a nearby tree.

A breeze wafted through the trees and he nearly hurled up his smoothie as the offensive stench invaded his nose.

"Get ready," he whispered, his whole body vibrating. It was unclear if this was the result of whatever new fantasy was playing in his head, his screaming nose hairs, or from chugging a cold smoothie on a freezing night.

The Urgal's eyes brightened under their thick brows in anticipation, not that the shade really cared enough to make any other observations, because three shapes appeared in the gloom at that very second. He frowned, wishing for two black horses bearing cloaked riders instead.

Three zombie horses cantered toward the ambush, their innards trailing across the ground in a trail of black ooze, their coats falling off their bodies in various places and slick with red slime in others. The shade blinked, before rolling his eyes. Zombie horses meant only one thing. The author of this story was going to make every character in the book that possessed a horse force them gallop without rest or water for the entirety of the story. This also explained the stench.

On the first horse was an elf with pointed ears, elegantly drawn on eyebrows, and a lip piercing. A powerful bow was slung across his back, and pressed against his hip was a sword opposite a quiver of arrows fletched with peacock feathers.

The last rider could have been the first's twin brother; they looked so much alike. He carried a long spear in his hand and a white dagger at his belt. A helm of amazing craftsmanship rested on his head, and instead of the traditional robes most elves wore, this one was wearing a pink leotard and yellow spandex.

Between these two rode a raven-haired elven lady who was nothing more than a Mary-Sue. At her side was sword, and on her back a long arrow with a quiver of peacock feather arrows. The shade scratched his head wondering how a peacock-fletched arrow could fly. While it was incredibly pretty to look at he failed to understand the logistics. He gave up any further contemplation on the matter when he felt his brain cramping.

Because the elf lady was wearing a dress, and therefore forced to ride side saddle, she had a bag in her lap. Every few seconds she glanced down as if to making sure it was still there.

At a soft spoken word the two male elves switched places, so that one in incredibly bright clothing was now in the lead. His spandex glowed like a beacon in the moonlight, as did the glitter on his pink leotard.

The Shade was already savouring his victory when one of the Urgals burst out laughing. The zombie horses snorted crimson spray in alarm and tossed their heads dribbling stuff onto the ground. The riders stiffened before pressing their un-dead steeds into a messy gallop.

The lady's horse surged forward in a shower of red and flesh driblets, leaving her guards behind.

"Get them, you useless fools," the Shade snarled viciously. Urgals were useless. Next time he was forced on a stealth operation, he was inviting the Ra'zac… the taller one. The shorter one would be distracting.

"Garjzla!" He shouted infuriated by logic preventing him from going on missions with the shorter Ra'zac, and the Urgal's bumbling.

Satisfied he watched the zombie horses explode in a rotisserie of barbeque. The elf lady in an impressive feat of ninjutsu leapt off the pile of steaks and glanced back for her guards. The Urgals' arrows, fletched with crow feathers had already brought down the two elves, and now the brutes were barrelling down the trail towards her. Wasting her energy, she uttered a strangled cry at the sight of her dead companions before running pell-mell into the trees.

Well at least the Urgals could do one thing right… until one of them tripped over a rock, knocking down all the others in an impressive display of gravity.

The shade snarled, cussing with profound virulence, and ran to the pinnacle of a small granite mountain that loomed above the trees. Defying the same force of gravity that had brought down his henchmen he leaped to the top of it and peered down at the green canopy below. Raising his middle finger toward the trees, he cried "Picklus, ticklus, hicklus, burnius mucho treeuss."

A quarter mile of forest burst into crimson flames. He burned one section after another, until a ring of fire a half-league across surrounded the ambush site. Satisfied, and knowing the Ra'zac would be proud of his destruction, he watched the ring closely in case it should falter.

The band of fire thickened, contracting the space the elf had to run. The Urgals were still in the road, lying in the heap they had fallen in. He had a distinct suspicion they were dead, but he couldn't understand how he'd come to that conclusion. It was like someone had put the thought in his head.

If they were indeed dead, as they still hadn't gotten up the Shade waffled over whether or not he felt regret for their demise. It was a rather sorry way to die; in a dog pile, but he would have killed them anyways so he supposed it was probably better….

He caught a glimpse of the elf run in hopeless circles searching for a way to escape the inferno, before conveniently running straight toward the rock he was perched on. The Shade examined the ground below, before leaping off the mountaintop. He nimbly stuck a landing that would have killed any lesser man, but he was no lesser man. He was a great swordsman, and there was nobody he wouldn't duel.

"Good evening," he smiled, offering the elf a little wave. "I'm here to take the egg, and I look fabulous. I love the dress; it looks really comfy, but is it comfortable to ride in?"

Gagging in disdain the elf pulled a blue stone from the bag in her hand and raised it above her head. He leaped at her and it vanished in a flash of green light.

"It's Easter you know? I would have liked to have seen what was inside of it before you did that." He sighed.

"What the Hell is wrong with you?" The elf shouted up at him. She hit his knees and shoulders with fisted hands, but she failed to dislodge him.

Smirking down at her he squirmed, and raised his magical middle finger, "I am Hell."

A flash of red light struck the elf and toppled to the ground.

He whistled, and his slightly charbroiled zombie-horse trotted toward him from its hiding place. After lashing the Mary-Sue to his saddle he mounted the horse and made his way out of the woods, leaving the rest to burn.

Far, far away, a fifteen year old boy named Eragon, strolled through the deadly forest of the Spine. He traversed paths grown men dared not to tread, for fear of the evil animals and monsters that dwelt in the dark trees, but for some reason those scary monsters and malicious creatures had soft spots for fifteen year old hunters, and so he was safe.

A brilliant stroke of green illuminated the forest, scaring the game for miles around. Curious as to what it was that had illuminated the forest so brightly, he crept toward the place he thought it had come from.

Scowling, he found nothing but a blue, smooth rock jutting out of a smoking crater. Grabbing a large stick he poked it. Nothing happened.

Cautiously, every fibre of his being taught with trepidation he slowly reached out his hand and smacked it. It vibrated and exploded in a blast of blue shards. Yelling he jumped back, only to shout again as a blue winged lizard attacked his hand, needle sharp teeth digging into the skin. A jolt of icy electricity shot up his arm and he knew no more.

It was some while later, Eragon awoke. He groggily shifted, groaning at the tension in his muscles which he assumed was the result of the strange electricity he felt. "There is some strange weather around here: green lightning and cold lightning," he mumbled, opening his eyes to see tree branches several hundred feet above his head.

Through the grogginess, his hand felt weird, like a pressure was being applied to it at regular intervals. Like his heartbeat was over amplified in that one hand. Sitting up, he glanced at the curious appendage, and his heart lurched. A two foot long lizard with wings was knawing on it!

"Get off!" He grabbed the nearest branch. "Put it down! That is not yours!" He swung the branch as hard as he could at the reptile's head.

It leaped away hissing and emitting a puff of smoke, and the stick collided with his hand. Engaged he raised the branch to beat the hissing monstrosity senseless when two things occurred to him: The stick colliding with his hand should have hurt a lot more than it did, and there was smoke emanating from the blue winged lizard's nostrils.

"You're a-a-a- Dragon!" he hissed. Dropping the stick he picked up the winged creature. "You're dragon!" He swung it around as he danced excitedly. "You're a dragon! You're a dra…g…on."

A wave of dizziness dragged him into a sea of darkness and he pitched sideways into the dirt.

The dragon flapped its wings to escape his heavy arm, before landing on his chest. It sniffed his cheek, before rolling its sapphire eyes and snorting a cloud of smoke in exasperation. Obviously her rider was hopeless. Feeling obligated to protect an ignorant farm boy the dragon curled up on his chest, waiting for him to regain consciousness.

Author's Note: I apologize for all the innuendo, and gore. I will be toning it down after this chapter. I apologize if anyone was made uncomfortable, I did not wish for this to happen. Sorry.

However, I would like to point out, that while the gore & innuendo will be toned down, the absurdity and sheer stupidity will not.