Chapter One
Togira un Koma; or, The Cripple and His Whore
Queen Islanzadi, the majestic and beautiful ruler of Du Weldenvarden, lay sprawled out on her bed in Tialdari Hall, panting lightly. "Oh…Oromis," she said, turning to him, "that was amazing." She turned back, staring at the ceiling. "Ooh…I've missed that. You know I haven't been with a man since Evandar died in the war."
"I myself have never been with a woman before today," Oromis said wistfully.
Islanzadi sat up slightly, holding the covers to her breasts, turning back to him. "Really?" she said, slightly surprised. "You were a virgin?"
"Well…no. Not exactly."
"Then what did…oh," Islanzadi said, laying her head against the pillow again, her brow slightly furrowed. "Ugh. Well, whatever. We elves don't care about that sort of thing, being as enlightened and liberal as we all are. The point was, that was some good sex."
"Yes," he agreed, in his usual solemn tone.
Islanzadi sighed, laying her head against his chest. "Ah, Oromis, let us just lay here together, basking in the wonder and intimacy of this moment."
"Well…um, actually, I have to go." He looked over onto Islanzadi's nightstand, at one of those alarm-clock-like devices he gave Eragon which don't really make sense, given the Inheritance Trilogy's medieval setting.
"Why, darling?" Islanzadi asked, startled as he sat up in the bed.
"Oh, I have a date tonight," he explained. He sat on the right side of the bed and began to pull on his pants, covering that hairless groin which Eragon had found so darn fascinating. Islanzadi, meanwhile, looked scandalized, her mouth wide open in shock.
"A DATE?! You have a DATE?!"
"Um, yeah. With that blonde chick with the dragon tattoo."
"But we just fcked!"
"Well, yeah," he admitted, walking across the room to take his shirt off of a chair, pulling it over his head, "but we're elves. I mean, yes, we did play slap and tickle, but we elves can mate 'for a day or for a century.' I'm just picking the former."
"But…but…" Islanzadi was frantic. "But you said you loved me! In the Ancient Language!"
"Well, yes," he admitted, turning his head to one side, "…but you didn't notice I was looking at your breasts at the time, did you?"
Islanzadi's jaw dropped. "Anyway, I have to go," Oromis said, turning to the door. "Maybe I'll call you later, babe," he added, retreating from the room.
Islanzadi continued to look stunned for a moment, before her face contorted to a look of angry, seething rage. "Brisingr!" she screamed, motioning with her hand toward the doorway he had departed from.
There was a whoosh of flames from the hallway, followed by screams. "Agh! Agh, it burns! O sweet, nonexistent gods, agh!"
"Suddenly I see that story about the Menoa Tree in a totally different light," Islanzadi muttered, crossing her arms over her chest, pouting as she listened to Oromis' agonized screams in the hallway.
