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 grave. 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!