Eragon: Chapter 41

Eragon, Chapter 41: Fighting Shadows

It was dark in Eragon’s cell when he sat up with a start, electrified. The wrinkle had shifted! He had felt the magic at the edge of his consciousness for hours, but every time he tried to use it, nothing happened. Eyes bright with nervous energy, he clenched his hands and said, “Nagz reisa!” With a flap, the cot’s blanket flew into the air and crumpled into a ball the size of his fist.

Yeah, uh, that bold bit? I have no idea what that’s supposed to mean. I have two guesses, though. The first is that the wrinkle refers to Eragon’s current inability to cast magic. Why it would be called a wrinkle, I don’t know – this terminology is never used again, so that’s a point against that hypothesis. My second guess is that Eragon has been staring at the blanket, trying to make it move, and the wrinkle shifting on its own is a sign that he can once again use magic. Which also makes no sense because (a) it’s dark and I highly doubt he can see well enough for that, (b) if he’s on the cot with the blanket he may have accidentally nudged it with his foot, and, oh yeah, (c) MAGIC DOESN’T WORK THAT WAY IN THIS UNIVERSE. Paolini spends pages upon pages belaboring his magic system in this series, emphasizing the fact that you have to know the precise words for what you want to do in the ancient language. It’s possible to cast spells silently, but not only does Eragon not know that yet, he would still have to think the words in his head, not just stare at the blanket until it moves. It’s been made abundantly clear that this is not like Harry Potter, where magic is not bound entirely by language and many wizarding children cast their first spells unintentionally. So, again, this makes no sense in context. That line has absolutely no purpose.

Eragon unlocks the cell door and steps out into the hall, finally remembering to contact Saphira.

He silently berated himself for not contacting her sooner. That should have been the first thing he did after getting his power back.

Actually, the first thing he should have done was come up with a plan. Maybe then he wouldn’t have stood outside his open cell talking to Saphira for the guards to find him. And maybe he would have had a better strategy than hoping they’re too scared of him to fight, then standing his ground when they attack and hoping he has enough juice left to take out six armed men. Luckily for him, a guy who is clearly Murtagh wearing a fake beard (who else is going to rescue him?) takes out most of the soldiers. Eragon convinces him not to kill the last guy so they can question him.

The man was breathing hard; the whites of his eyes showed. He seemed to understand that his life was being spared.

Well, yes, generally when you hear someone shout “Don’t kill him!” it’s pretty obvious they’re sparing your life.

“You’ve seen what I can do,” said Eragon harshly. “If you don’t answer my questions, the rest of your life will be spent in utter misery and torment. Now where’s my sword – its sheath and blade are red – and what cell is the elf in?”

The man clamped his mouth shut.

Eragon’s palm glowed ominously as he reached for the magic. “That was the wrong answer,” he snapped. “Do you know how much pain a grain of sand can cause you when it’s embedded red hot in your stomach? Especially when it doesn’t cool off for the next twenty years and slowly burns its way down to your toes! By the time it gets out of you, you’ll be an old man.” He paused for effect. “Unless you tell me what I want.”

The soldier’s eyes bulged, but he remained silent. Eragon scraped some dirt off the stone floor and observed dispassionately, “This is a bit more than a piece of sand, but be comforted; it’ll burn through you faster. Still, it’ll leave a bigger hole.” At his word, the dirt shone cherry red, though it did not burn his hand.

Holy shit, Eragon, what the hell is wrong with you? Seriously, where did he even get the idea to threaten a man with severe, long-lasting torture from in the first place? Even if he’s bluffing, that’s fucked up. Threaten to kill him, maim him, cut off body parts even – that’s still messed up but at least it’s kind of understandable. We’re clearly supposed to see Eragon as a badass in this scene, but this is just disturbing. And it’s even worse that this straying into anti-hero territory is never brought up again, and he’s never treated as though he’s done something wrong for it.

The soldier is (rightly) terrified and blurts out where the elf and Eragon’s weapons are, and Eragon knocks him out. Murtagh reveals himself, and they find the elf’s cell. She stares Eragon down for a second, and then collapses. We get a mention of how she smells like “freshly crushed pine needles,” which will get just as old as the constant mentions of how beautiful she is (which happens in the very next line! How creative!).

They head upstairs and for some reason find themselves in a banquet room. Why is there a banquet room in a prison? This might be a fortress, which would excuse the presence of the banquet room, but then why is it located directly above the prison? If it’s for the soldiers, then it would be a mess hall.

Anyway, petty pedantry aside, Murtagh asks Eragon to tell Saphira to “wait another five minutes,” and then Eragon hides under a table with the elf when some soldiers run through the room, barely checking for the escaped prisoners. Good job, guys.

Eragon leaned against a table leg, sighing. The respite made him suddenly aware of his burning stomach and parched throat. A tankard and a plate of half-eaten food on the other side of the room caught his attention.

Eragon dashed from his hiding place, grabbed the food, then scurried back to the table. There was amber beer in the tankard, which he drank in two great gulps. Relief seeped through him as the cool liquid ran down his throat, soothing the irritated tissue. He suppressed a belch before ravenously tearing into a hunk of bread.

Oh man, that was bothering me. Thanks so much for letting us know Eragon finally got something to eat! That was so important to the narrative just now. And the fact that Eragon risked discovery makes him seem so much smarter, too!

Murtagh comes back with their weapons. He was going to wait until the guard changed to make their escape, but that plan’s scrapped when Eragon tells him that there’s a Shade on the premises. Why didn’t you tell him that sooner? That is a vital piece of information and Murtagh would not now be telling you that Saphira needs to be here NOW.

Of course Shades finds them at exactly that moment (it wouldn’t be appropriately dramatic otherwise), and Eragon fights him to give Murtagh a chance to escape. He’s pretty badly out-classed, which is kind of refreshing. There’s a lot of commotion outside, which leads to this:

The Shade stared down at him haughtily. “A powerful piece you may be in the game that is being played, but I’m disappointed that this is your best. If the other Riders were this weak, they must have controlled the Empire only through sheer numbers.”

Eragon looked up and shook his head. He had figured out Murtagh’s plan. Saphira, now would be a good time. “No, you forget something.”

“And what might that be?” asked the Shade mockingly.

There was a thunderous reverberation as a chunk of the ceiling was torn away to reveal the night sky. “The dragons!” roared Eragon over the noise, and threw himself out of the Shade’s reach.

Yeah, Shades is kind of dumb. He should have been on the lookout Saphira as soon as he got his hands on Eragon. I know people supposedly focus more on the Riders than the dragons, but the dragons kind of make the Riders, so that’s a really big thing to forget about.

Murtagh shoots Shades in between the eyes, which causes him to turn into mist and vanish. Eragon thinks Shades is dead, but Murtagh isn’t convinced. Either way, soldiers pour into the room, but before they can attack Saphira rips off the rest of the roof and jumps into the room. She has enough time to marvel over the fact that there’s an elf with them (couldn’t that wait until after they escape?), and then they all climb on and she flies off, heading east.

Eragon: Chapter 40

Eragon, Chapter 40: Du Sundavar Freohr

Our intrepid hero has been captured by the enemy! How will he escape his cell?

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.

The last chapter ended with Eragon being knocked unconscious with a blow to the head. He is just as likely to have a concussion as he is to be drugged. His guess is correct, of course, but that should not be the first conclusion he comes to.

Eragon looks out the window and notices that he’s in a town, but it’s not until later that he wonders how he ended up in a town full of humans when he was captured by Urgals. In his drugged stupor, he quickly forgets about it. Luckily there’s a nice guard constantly bringing him food. Gee, I wonder if the drugs are in the food?

Later, a bunch of soldiers come marching through the prison:

Through the window he saw a wide hallway nearly ten yards across. The opposing wall was lined with cells similar to his own. A column of soldiers marched through the hall, their swords drawn and ready. Every man was dressed in matching armor; their faces bore the same hard expression, and their feet came down on the floor with mechanical precision, never missing a beat. The sound was hypnotic. It was an impressive display of force.

Who is this display of force for, exactly? If they’re keeping the prisoners drugged, then why would they need to intimidate them? And for heaven’s sake, why is the hallway so damn wide? If a prisoner does attempt to escape, a wider hallway just gives them more room to dodge out of the way. I should think you’d want a narrow hallway so they’re forced into close-quarters combat.

Eragon notices that the guards are carrying a woman:

Her long midnight-black hair obscured her face, despite a leather strip bound around her head to hold the tresses back. She was dressed in dark leather pants and shirt. Wrapped around her slim waist was a shiny belt, from which hung an empty sheath on her right hip. Knee-high boots covered her calves and small feet.

Why would they take the sword, but not the sheath? For that matter, why would they let her keep her own clothes? It would be a lot more demoralizing if she was forced to wear a prison uniform, not to mention a lot harder for her to escape if she doesn’t have shoes or access to anything she may have hidden on her person. I also don’t understand why they need that many guards to transport one unconscious woman to her cell. I know elves are faster and stronger (and just all around better) than humans, but an entire platoon of soldiers for a prisoner who has probably been drugged just like Eragon? Sounds like overkill to me.

Her head lolled to the side. Eragon gasped, feeling like he had been struck in the stomach. She was the woman from his dreams.

Eragon is imprisoned in the same place as the dream woman he was looking for? Gee, how convenient! It’s almost like the author couldn’t think of a less contrived way for them to meet.

Her sculpted face was as perfect as a painting. Her round chin, high cheekbones, and long eyelashes gave her an exotic look. The only mar in her beauty was a scrape along her jaw; nevertheless, she was the fairest woman he had ever seen.

Here we have a glimpse at one of my main problems with Arya, the elf woman: she’s almost always described in terms of her appearance. Every time she’s appeared so far, we’ve been told how beautiful she is, and it’s only going to get worse from here. And while I’m fairly sure Paolini intended this to be a testament to how awesome Arya is supposed to be – stronger and more beautiful than any human woman – it really only serves to objectify her.

Also, if I may nitpick the prose here for a second, “perfect as a painting” is one of those bland, vague phrases that really doesn’t add to the description at all – if anything, it makes it all the easier to deliberately misinterpret the meaning. Are we talking da Vinci or Picasso here? (Plus, again, where the hell has Eragon seen paintings?)

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.

Oh WOW is this passage gross.

So not only does this read like Eragon has finally hit puberty and discovered girls, but the first hint of lust (because that’s all this can be, because all he knows about this woman is what she looks like) makes him feel “obsession” and “fevered madness?” EW. Run away, Arya. Run far, far, faaaar away.

Then the woman’s hair shifted, revealing pointed ears. A chill crept over him. She was an elf.

Okay, so this could definitely have been combined into one sentence (something like “A chill crept over him as her hair fell away, revealing the pointed ears of an elf”). Also, why is this chilling? It’s explained that the elves haven’t really come out of their territory since the fall of the Riders, but from the way Eragon reacts you’d think they were the bogeyman.

Speaking of the bogeyman…

Next strode a tall, proud man, a sable cape billowing behind him. His face was deathly white; his hair was red. Red like blood.

As he walked by Eragon’s cell, the man turned his head and looked squarely at him with maroon eyes. His upper lip pulled back in a feral smile, revealing teeth filed to points. Eragon shrank back. He knew what the man was. A Shade. So help me . . . a Shade.

Yay, Shades is back! And just like with the Urgals back in Yazuac, this description is miles better than the one in the prologue. We went from “He looked human except for his crimson hair and maroon eyes” to having clearly inhuman coloring (corpse-pale skin, blood-red hair) and pointed teeth. While still a bit vague, it’s a much better picture to have of the book’s main villain. This should have been his introduction.

Eragon is freaked out that there’s a Shade walking around – understandably so, since “the presence of a Shade meant that evil was loose in the land.” (Except he should already know this since Galbatorix is just so eeeeeevil! Damn Galby and his taxes!) He doesn’t understand why the soldiers haven’t killed him, ignoring the fact that they’re clearly working with (or for) Shades.

Then his thoughts returned to the elf-woman, and he was grasped by strange emotions again.

“Strange emotions?” Is that what we’re calling it now?

Eragon falls asleep, and when he wakes up he notices that the drug is wearing off. He still can’t contact Saphira or use magic, though. When the guard brings him food, he smells something off with the water and instantly realizes that everything is drugged. He spends the rest of the day shoving his food out the window, trying to wait out the effects of the drug. Eventually, Shades barges into his cell to interrogate him, and Eragon realizes he has to act like he’s still drugged.

His breath caught as he looked into the Shade’s face. It was like gazing at a death mask or a polished skull with skin pulled over it to give the appearance of life.

Paolini writes like this a lot, where he lists several possible descriptors and never actually commits to one. It’s like he couldn’t decide which description he liked better, so he just shoved both of them in and let the reader decide. It’s only one of the many reasons his writing is so cluttered. He does it again here, after the Shade asks him his name:

The question was posed innocently enough, but Eragon knew there had to be a catch or trap in it, though it eluded him. He pretended to struggle over the question for a while, then slowly said, frowning, “I’m not sure. . . . M’name’s Eragon, but that’s not all I am, is it?”

Shades asks what Eragon’s name is again, insisting, “Don’t you have another one, one that you use only rarely?”

He wants my true name so he can control me! realized Eragon. But I can’t tell him. I don’t even know it myself. He thought quickly, trying to invent a deception that would conceal his ignorance. What if I made up a name? He hesitated – it could easily give him away – then raced to create a name that would withstand scrutiny.

How on earth is Eragon going to make up a “true name” that won’t sound completely fake? He doesn’t know enough about them to make one up; he’s probably never heard what one actually sounds like! And why is Shades so intent on finding out what it is when later we’re told that Galbatorix has made it his hobby to ferret out people’s true names so he can control them personally? Is he trying to get one over on Galbatorix? Who knows! We’ll never find out!

As he was about to utter it, he decided to take a chance and try to scare the Shade. He deftly switched a few letters, then nodded foolishly and said, “Brom told it to me once. It was . . .” The pause stretched for a few seconds, then his face brightened as he appeared to remember. “It was Du Sundavar Freohr.” Which meant almost literally “death of the shadows.”

So his “name that would withstand scrutiny” is a barefaced lie that could easily backfire if Shades decides to strike him where he stands… And Shades only reacts by sitting there thinking about what he said.

Eragon wondered if he had dared too much. He waited until the Shade stirred before asking ingenuously, “Why are you here?”

The Shade looked at him with contempt in his red eyes and smiled. “To gloat, of course. What use is a victory if one cannot enjoy it?”

Really? We’ve got an obviously evil villain who full-out admits to gloating? BORING.

Anyway, Shades notices that Eragon’s not drinking his water and tells the captain of the guard, right in front of Eragon, that he needs to make sure that Eragon drinks his water and to put an extra dose of drugs in it. Of course he couldn’t leave the cell, find the captain, and tell him away from the cell; he had to yell for the captain, then make it incredibly obvious what he was talking about in front of the guy he was drugging in the first place. I guess it was too much to hope for an intelligent or somewhat original villain.

Eragon: Chapter 39

Eragon, Chapter 39: Capture at Gil’ead

After Saphira turns Brom’s final resting place into a sure target for grave robbers, the story finally gets back on track … starting with an entire page talking about the horses. Boring. The only thing we learn that is even slightly interesting is that Murtagh named his horse Tornac, after the guy who taught him how to fight.

He dreamed of the woman no more. And though he tried to scry her, he saw only an empty cell. Whenever they passed a town or city, he checked to see if it had a jail. If it did, he would disguise himself and visit it, but she was not to be found. His disguises became increasingly elaborate as he saw notices featuring his name and description – and offering a substantial reward for his capture – posted in various towns.

How is Eragon changing his appearance? He doesn’t find out until much later in the series how to magically modify his body, and he clearly doesn’t know how to cast a glamour, so he’s limited to whatever supplies he can scrounge up. What was his first disguise, a beaglepuss?

Very convincing. No one will ever know it was you.

I would think that if there are already posters with Eragon’s description on them, he should constantly be in disguise – and not an “elaborate” one either, because that will just draw more attention to him. He should be changing his hair color and going by an assumed name at the very least. (Although with the description we got of him in Chapter 1, he’s pretty generic-looking to begin with. He would just have to cover up his hand.)

The day finally came when Eragon unwrapped his side for the last time. His ribs had healed completely, leaving him with only a small scar where the Ra’zac’s boot had cut his side. As Saphira watched, he stretched slowly, then with increasing vigor when there was no pain. He flexed his muscles, pleased. In an earlier time he would have smiled, but after Brom’s death, such expressions did not come easily.

As opposed to after his uncle’s death, when he was waking up crying and feeling homesick. He was just a bundle of laughs then, wasn’t he? Man, a few months is such a long time ago. How can you expect a kid to still be sad over the death of a family member he knew his whole life when the mentor he’s been with for a couple months just died? I really shouldn’t be surprised, since Garrow’s only purpose was to be killed off so Eragon could be shoved into the role of the unwilling hero.

Once the bandages come off, the first thing Eragon does is challenge Murtagh to a sparring match. Screw testing yourself to make sure you’re completely healed up, it’s perfectly safe to jump straight from stretches to full-out sword fighting! No risk of injury there at all. Eragon and Murtagh are, of course, evenly matched.

“You’re just as good,” observed Eragon, still panting. “The man who taught you, Tornac, could make a fortune with a fencing school.”

Does Murtagh really need to be reminded what his teacher’s name was? Do we, for that matter? Yes, he’s an important figure in Murtagh’s past, but he’s never brought up again. The only reason we know his name is because that’s what Murtagh named his horse – which we learned three pages ago and could easily look up if we forgot. This sentence would work just as well and be a lot less condescending to both Murtagh and the reader if either “the man who taught you” or “Tornac” were taken out.

Anyway, Tornac’s dead. Glad we’re spending so much time on a dead guy who has no bearing on the plot whatsoever.

Eventually they reach Gil’ead, and Murtagh points out that the Empire is much more keen on capturing Eragon than himself, so he should be the one to look for the Varden contact. Unfortunately, he’s seen by someone who knows him while he’s in town. He leaves in a hurry, but he was either followed for left enough of a trail for someone to follow him, because the next morning before dawn (two hours before dawn to be precise, though how Eragon can tell I have no idea) they’re attacked yet again by Urgals. Eragon manages to take four of them down before he’s knocked out. Again. Anyone else think Eragon should have had a concussion by now?

Eragon: Chapter 38

Eragon, Chapter 38: Diamond Tomb

Eragon wakes up alone and goes to deal with Brom’s death the only way he knows how – by indulging in self-centered whining.

So the witch Angela was right – there was a death in my future, he thought, staring bleakly at the land.

There’s death in everyone’s future because people die all the time. It would be a lot more impressive if she’d predicted that no one else would die. Either she’d be dead wrong, or everyone would have gained immortality.

A tear slid down his listless face and evaporated in the sunlight, leaving a salty crust on his skin. He closed his eyes and absorbed the warmth, emptying his mind. With a fingernail, he aimlessly scratched the sandstone. When he looked, he saw that he had written Why me?

That’s the second single emo tear we’ve seen from Eragon this book, and it’s even more goofy than the last one. How does aimless scratching turn into a coherent message? Wouldn’t he have to look to see what he’s writing? Would it even be legible considering he’s not paying attention and he only just learned to read a couple months ago? And could he have picked a more melodramatic phrase?

Why not you? You are not the only person who’s lost someone close to them. Did you think you were special? Did you think being a Rider made you immune to having loved ones die? Did this really affect you more than your uncle’s death? Or your aunt’s? (Oh, wait, I forgot, Marian doesn’t count. She’s only mentioned because Garrow had to have a wife in order to have a son.)

Murtagh comes back to camp with some food and asks if Brom was “the Brom” who stole a dragon egg from the king and killed Morzan. Okay, if Brom’s well-known enough that people can hear his name and ask if he’s that guy, then why did he never change his name? Even Obi Wan changed his name (though I have to say “Old Ben Kenobi” is probably the laziest attempt to hide one’s identity I’ve ever heard).

Murtagh tells us that he’s on the run and not aligned with the Varden, the Empire, or anyone else, and that he was curious about the tales of a new Rider so he followed the Ra’zac to see if they were true. Eragon tries to reach into his mind to see if he’s trustworthy, only to find that he can’t get in – Murtagh’s got some pretty solid defenses. Then Eragon pulls out his sword, deciding that he doesn’t care if people see it. Murtagh, however, gets pretty upset when he sees the sword, telling him that it belonged to Morzan.

Eragon stared at Zar’roc with shock. He realized that Brom must have taken it from Morzan after they fought in Gil’ead. “Brom never told me where it came from,” he said truthfully. “I had no idea it was Morzan’s.”

“He never told you?” asked Murtagh, a note of disbelief in his voice. Eragon shook his head. “That’s strange. I can think of no reason for him to have concealed it.”

“Neither can I. But then, he kept many secrets,” said Eragon.

Yeah, Brom never told Eragon a lot of things. I’m three books into the series by now and I’m still finding out important shit that Brom never told Eragon. After agreeing that Murtagh can travel with them, Eragon tells Saphira about the sword and asks why she never told him that Brom was a Rider.

He asked me not to, she said simply.

[...]

Eragon grew angry. Why did he trust you, but not me, with all this knowledge?

Her scales rustled over the dry rock as she stood above him, eyes profound. After we left Teirm and were attacked by the Urgals, he told me many things, some of which I will not speak of unless necessary. 

Translation: the author needs an excuse to retcon important information that the hero should already know about. I’m not going to talk about it now – not because it’s not “necessary”, but because if I bring it up now, I’ll only be repeating myself when we reach that point in the story. And I already repeat myself a lot.

Anyway, Saphira is at least allowed to tell Eragon where to find a guy who can get them to the next plot point the Varden, and Eragon tells her about the dream he had.

What I saw disturbed me. I feel that time is running out for her; something dreadful is going to happen soon. She’s in mortal danger – I’m sure of it – but I don’t know how to find her! She could be anywhere.

What does your heart say? asked Saphira.

My heart died a while back, said Eragon with a hint of black humor.

Oh for fuck’s sake.

However, I think we should go north to Gil’ead. With any luck, one of the towns or cities along our path is where this woman is being held. I’m afraid that my next dream of her will show a gave. I couldn’t stand that.

Why?

I’m not sure, he said, shrugging. It’s just that when I see her, I feel as if she’s precious and shouldn’t be lost. . . . It’s very strange. Saphira opened her long mouth and laughed silently, fangs gleaming. What is it? snapped Eragon. She shook her head and quietly padded away.

Even with how melodramatic he’s being, I can’t really figure out why Saphira is laughing at Eragon here. I mean, yeah, it sounds kind of silly for him to call this random woman he’s never met “precious,” but it’s not really all that funny either.

They finally get ready to leave, with Murtagh mentioning that he plans to leave when they meet up with Brom’s Varden contact. He then goes ahead, leaving Eragon and Saphira to say one last goodbye to Brom:

As Eragon turned to depart, Saphira snaked out her long neck to touch the tomb with the tip of her nose. Her sides vibrated as a low humming filled the air.

The sandstone around her nose shimmered like gilded dew, turning clear with dancing silver highlights. Eragon watched in wonder as tendrils of white diamond twisted over the tomb’s surface in a web of priceless filigree. Sparkling shadows were cast on the ground, reflecting splashes of brilliant colors that shifted dazzlingly as the sandstone continued to change. With a satisfied snort, Saphira stepped back and examined her handiwork.

The sculpted sandstone mausoleum of moments before had transformed into a sparkling gemstone vault – under which Brom’s untouched face was visible. Eragon gazed with yearning at the old man, who seemed to be only sleeping. “What did you do?” he asked Saphira with awe.

I gave him the only gift I could. Now time will not ravage him. He can rest in peace for eternity.

On the one hand, this is kind of sweet of her. On the other hand, who wants to bet on how long it’ll take before someone comes by and tries to steal parts of the giant unguarded diamond (which will undoubtedly destroy whatever enchantment is keeping Brom preserved)? Unless she’s added some sort of anti-theft charm, I don’t think that tomb’s going to last long.

Memorable Quotes:

“Murtagh’s eyes became inscrutable orbs.” (pg 279) This might just be a side effect of all the fanfic I read as a kid, but I can’t stand “orbs” being used as a synonym for eyes. 

Stuff I Like: Jurassic Park

I do a lot of complaining on this blog. And as much as I enjoy ripping into Eragon, it can get a little tiring to write only about stuff I hate. So I’d like to take a break from my irregularly-scheduled ranting about terribly-written fantasy to gush incoherently about how fucking awesome Jurassic Park is. (As you might imagine, I just came back from seeing Jurassic Park in 3D, and let me tell you it was worth every penny. I don’t care if it’s an obvious ploy for money. I gladly forked over my hard-earned cash; hell, I’d consider giving up my first-born child for this. If they ever do a 3D version of the live-action Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles movie, my future kids are going to be in trouble.)

It’s difficult to express just how much Jurassic Park means to me, especially when it rests secure in the category of beloved nostalgia. It was my #1 go-to movie when I was a kid. I watched it so often the tape started to wear out. I watched it so often I’m amused when other people are startled by the jump scares. I think I might actually be able to quote it line-for-line. My dad and I had this little routine where he would say “Clever girl” and I would snarl and pretend to eat him – you know, typical father-daughter stuff. I can safely say that it’s my favorite movie of all time, and will probably stay in that spot for the foreseeable future, if not forever. I can’t single out any one element that makes it good – the story, the characters, the actors, the music, the effects, all of it just combines into this glorious, wondrous experience for me.

I even love the sequels. I know, I know, they aren’t nearly as good, but I just can’t help myself. It doesn’t help that my brain immediately reverts to being a child and overrides all thoughts like “That enclosure’s pretty small for what was originally supposed to be eight raptors” or “Why didn’t they just move to the other side of the tree and let the car fall past them?” or “How did the T-rex manage to sneak up on them when every other time you could hear/feel it coming well in advance?” with “AW YEAH DINOSAWRS!”

Fun fact: did you know that the velociraptors were actually guys in rubber suits? (The relevant item on the list is #1, but the rest are pretty awesome too.) How fucking awesome is that?!

I’m just going to leave you all with this exchange from the movie, which has me pretty convinced that I’m married to Dr. Grant (and really surprised that there isn’t a clip of this on youTube):

Dr. Alan Grant: Kids! You want to have one of those?

Dr. Ellie Sattler: I don’t want that kid, but a breed of child Dr. Grant could be intriguing. I mean, what’s so wrong with kids?

Grant: Oh, Ellie, look, they’re noisy, they’re messy, they’re expensive.

Sattler: Cheap… cheap…

Grant: They smell.

Sattler: They do not smell.

Grant: Some of them smell.

Sattler: Oh, give me a break!

Grant: Babies smell!

Eragon: Chapter 37

Eragon, Chapter 37: Legacy of a Rider

Well, folks, the moment we’ve all been waiting for has finally arrived. (Or maybe it’s just the moment I’ve been waiting for.) Everyone pretty much saw it coming, what with the thinly-veiled Star Wars “homage” that is the plot, and the ham-fisted foreshadowing back in Chapter 26.

The time has come for Brom to die.

Eragon wakes up to find Brom thrashing around on the floor of the cave. He stops convulsing long enough to order Eragon to wash his right hand in wine; this removes some sort of dye or enchantment and reveals a gedwëy ignasia, just like the one Eragon has.

“You’re a Rider?” he asked incredulously.

A painful smile flickered on Brom’s face. “Once upon a time that was true . . . but no more. When I was young . . . younger than you are now, I was chosen . . . chosen by the Riders to join their ranks. While they trained me, I became friends with another apprentice . . . Morzan, before he was a Forsworn.” Eragon gasped – that had been over a hundred years ago. “But then he betrayed us to Galbatorix . . . and in the fighting at Doru Araeba – Vroengard’s city – my young dragon was killed. Her name . . . was Saphira.”

Ellipses . . . don’t make your dialogue . . . any more authentic, Paolini. They just make . . . it a lot more . . . annoying to read.

“Why didn’t you tell me this before?” asked Eragon softly.

Brom laughed. “Because . . . there was no need to.”

No need to? No need to? You didn’t think that maybe Eragon would have obeyed you more if you told him you were a Rider? You didn’t think maybe it would help him adjust to the massive change in his life to know that you understood what he was going through? You fucking asshole, you just didn’t want to talk about it.

I actually have a problem with both Brom’s characterization here and how Paolini handled the problem of keeping Eragon in the dark for plot purposes. Brom could have saved them both so much trouble if he’d admitted from the beginning that he was once a Rider. He wouldn’t even have to tell Eragon everything; he could have kept the more personal stuff to himself and stuck to practical matters like magic and sword fighting. But no, he had to bottle up everything and jeopardize both Eragon’s training and life so he didn’t have to face his past. Meanwhile, Paolini basically shot himself in the foot by making one of the biggest amateur blunders an author can make: having a character withhold vital information for no good reason. He could have taken Brom’s reluctance to dredge up a painful past and made him into a more well-rounded character, but instead he went with a tired cliche that does nothing new with a familiar archetype.

All the problems I have with Brom would have made him a lot more interesting if Paolini had realized what he was doing and gone with it. A man intent on never reliving or sharing his past while attempting to teach a boy who is now connected to that past is a lot more interesting than the stereotype of the wise old mentor.

“After all this time I still grieve for my Saphira . . . and hate Galbatorix for what he tore from me.” His feverish eyes drilled into Eragon as he said fiercely, “Don’t let that happen to you. Don’t! Guard Saphira with your life, for without her it’s hardly worth living.”

Okay, wait a minute.

Galbatorix went mad because his first dragon died, which is explained by the telepathy/shared consciousness between dragons and their Riders. And in the next book Eragon learns to feel the consciousness of living things and can feel them die, so both Galbatorix and Brom probably felt their dragons dying. So, (a) why didn’t Brom also lose his mind, instead of just being a sad old man for the rest of his life, and (b) is Galbatorix the only Rider to ever have lost his dragon before? Or just the only one to have reacted that badly? And wouldn’t the other Riders have a little more sympathy if they share the same bonds with their own dragons and are well aware that he probably felt his dragon die?

Alagaësia needs some therapy.

Also, Brom’s sowing the seeds of some pretty unhealthy co-dependence there. Saphira is already possessive enough; there’s no need to get Eragon in on the act.

“It is the way of things . . . I must. Will you take my blessing?” Eragon bowed his head and nodded, overcome. Brom placed a trembling hand on his brow. “Then I give it to you. May the coming years bring you great happiness.” He motioned for Eragon to bend closer. Very quietly, he whispered seven words from the ancient language, then even more softly told him what they meant. “That is all I can give you. . . . Use them only in great need.”

I think this is supposed to be foreshadowing, but I’m pretty sure it’s just set-up for a deus-ex-machina (which will come from out of nowhere because no one is going to remember this when Paolini finally uses it). Also, way to not tell us what the words are - not that they’ll make any sense to me, but at least it might make this bit a touch more interesting, and then I’ll be sure you’re not just pulling something out of your ass at the last second.

Brom blindly turned his eyes to the ceiling. “And now,” he murmured, “for the greatest adventure of all. . . .”

Laziest. Last words. EVER.

The evening hours were young and the shadows long when Brom suddenly stiffened. Eragon called his name and cried for Murtagh’s help, but they could do nothing. As a barren silence dampened the air, Brom’s eyes locked with Eragon’s. Then contentment spread across the old man’s face, and a whisper of breath escaped his lips. And so it was that Brom the storyteller died.

How does silence “dampen the air”? Sense, make some!

We spent all this time establishing that Brom was more than Eragon originally thought he was, and yet he’s stilled labelled a storyteller in his final scene. Not a Rider, not a mentor or friend, but a storyteller. Way to ignore over two hundred pages of character development there.

With shaking fingers, Eragon closed Brom’s eyes and stood. Saphira raised her head behind him and roared mournfully at the sky, keening her lamentation. Tears rolled down Eragon’s cheeks as a sense of horrible loss bled through him. Haltingly, he said, “We have to bury him.”

“We might be seen,” warned Murtagh.

“I don’t care!”

I’m the designated hero, and I say paying my respects to an old man who barely seemed to tolerate my existence is more important than self preservation!

Don’t worry, Murtagh. Anyone who’s close enough to spot you has already heard Saphira give away your location.

They drag Brom’s body to the top of the hill, and Eragon uses magic to form the sandstone around Brom like a coffin. He even gives him an epitaph, which claims that Brom was “like a father to [him].” He was a pretty shitty father, in that case.

That night he dreamed of the imprisoned woman again.

He could tell that something was wrong with her. Her breathing was irregular, and she shook – whether from cold or pain, he did not know. In the semidarkness of the cell, the only thing clearly illuminated was her hand, which hung over the edge of the cot. A dark liquid dripped from the tips of her fingers. Eragon knew it was blood.

Oh no, Eragon’s love interest is in danger! Better run off toward the next plot point!

Eragon: Chapters 35 & 36

Eragon, Chapter 35: The Ra’zac’s Revenge

Unsurprisingly, Eragon wakes up to find that he, Saphira, and Brom have been tied up and taken captive by the Ra’zac. He’s also been drugged so that he can’t use magic. Wait a minute – the Ra’zac? The guys who wear black all the time? Then how did you notice a flash of color, at night, in the middle of a storm? Has Christopher Paolini even been introduced to the concept of continuity? Or can he only remember things that happened within the last three chapters?

The Ra’zac taunt Eragon, then drag Brom into the center of camp. Just as they’re about to kill him, they’re shot at. While fleeing, one of them throws a knife at Eragon, and Brom throws himself in front of it and gets himself stabbed. And then Eragon faints yet again.

Chapter 36: Murtagh

Eragon wakes up slowly and painfully, to find that he’s been rescued:

The stranger, dressed in battered clothes, exuded a calm, assured air. In his hands was a bow, at his side a long hang-and-a-half sword. A white horn bound with silver fittings lay in his lap, and the hilt of a dagger protruded from his boot. His serious face and fierce eyes were framed by locks of brown hair. He appeared to be a few years older than Eragon and perhaps and inch or so taller.

Meet Murtagh. He seems to be a big hit with the fangirls, and it’s not hard to see why, as he’s an obvious mash-up of Han Solo and Aragorn, with just enough of an angsty backstory to make him the perfect woobie. He’s also hunting the Ra’zac, a concept that Eragon seems to have trouble grasping.

Saphira hasn’t let Murtagh anywhere near Eragon, which makes no sense since she allowed him to tend to Brom’s wounds. You’d think she would care a bit more about him, or at least realize that if Murtagh is trying to save Brom then he’s not going to hurt Eragon. Instead, Eragon has to free himself from the ropes the Ra’zac tied around him and tell Saphira to let Murtagh pass, and Murtagh diagnoses him with broken ribs and tells him he’s lucky not to be coughing up blood.

Eragon slipped the shirt back on. “Yes . . . I’m lucky.” He took a shallow breath, sidled over to Brom, and saw that Murtagh had cut open the side of his robe to bandage the wound. With trembling fingers, he undid the bandage.

“I wouldn’t do that,” warned Murtagh. “He’ll bleed to death without it.”

Eragon ignored him and pulled the cloth away from Brom’s side. The would was short and thin, belying its depth. Blood streamed out of it. As he had learned when Garrow was injured, a wound inflicted by the Ra’zac was slow to heal.

It’s so good to know that Eragon can put Brom’s best interest before his own curiousity. Murtagh just doctored his wounds; couldn’t he ask how Brom is doing and make his own conclusions from Murtagh’s description?

With Saphira helping him, Eragon manages to close the wound in Brom’s side, but says he only fixed the surface cut and the rest is “up to him [Brom]“. That’s nice. You know what’s not so nice? The blood poisoning he’s going to get from a perforated intestine. No strength of will is going to help fight off septicemia.

Determining that the only way for Brom to travel is if he’s carried, Murtagh helps Eragon make a litter for Saphira to carry him in and announces that he’ll come with them, until they’re out of danger. Saphira flies ahead, and when she gets tired she lands on a sort of sandstone mound that’s pockmarked with caves. They hide in one of these caves for the night. With Brom not waking up and not taking any water or food, the only thing left to do is – you guessed it – sleep.

Memorable Quotes:

“An oxbow moon provided wan light, but he knew that it would only make it easier for the Ra’zac to track them.” I spent a good five minutes trying to google “oxbow moon”, thinking it was a special sort of moon like a harvest moon, only to realize that Paolini was referring to a crescent moon. Put down the thesaurus, dude.