Angela hummed a jaunty tune to herself as she sauntered through an abandoned floor of Tronjheim. Nasuada was attending to matters of the Varden and had taken Elva with her. Eragon and Saphira were training with Arya. Trianna wasn't even worth thinking about. In other words, there was absolutely no one to harass. She fiddled with the strap of her satchel and sighed out loud.
"Solembum?"

The werecat walking beside her sniffed noncommittally.

"Well there's no need to take that tone with me. I just wanted to ask - don't you feel that this day needs a bit of, well, a bit of fun?"

I am fun.

"That's debatable."

You're exploring an abandoned floor of a dwarf city. Your companion is a werecat. You are on the brink of the rebirth of Alagaesia, and are waiting on what will be the bloodiest, most hellish battle in living memory. What more fun could you possibly need?

"You," declared Angela, "are a geriatric, elderly cat, who wouldn't recognise fun if it did a backflip on your nose."

Thank you.

The two stopped at what appeared to be a blocked off passage. The door that would have led them onward had three beams of heavy wood barring it off. Angela peered beyond the wooden beams. Three more beams, but of iron, also ran the length of the door, effectively barring anyone from entering. An ancient nail as large as Angela's fist held a scrap of parchment to the door. Angela squinted at the parchment, poking her head as far as it could go between the beams of wood.

If you're not careful, your head will get stuck.

"Nonsense. I have a very nicely shaped skull."

Solembum started to clean himself as he waited. Angela scowled.

"I can't make out the runes. The parchment's too far away."

Don't blame me if the next time we see Nasuada is with half your hair cut off and your skull squashed like a ripe tomato.

Angela withdrew her head and tapped on a beam of wood. A solid thunk thunk echoed through the tunnel. Angela frowned, and fished out a razor blade from her satchel.

"We'll do this the traditional way," Angela crowed. "In other words, fun!"

Solembum sighed and went to sleep.

Several hours later, Angela laid spreadeagled on the dirt floor, the razor blade thrown aside. The three wooden beams still blocked off entry to the door's area, however one did have a groove cut into it, of about the length of an index finger. Solembum finished off his nap with imagining himself eating a fishcake as long as of Saphira's tail, and went to wake Angela. He tapped at Angela's forehead gently, and then licked her cheek. After no response, Solembum climbed onto Angela's face and sat himself down.

Angela sat up immediately, throwing the werecat into the air. He landed gracefully, looking mildly irritated.

"You tried to kill me!"

I was checking you hadn't fallen into a coma.

"You were trying to smother me!"

Nonsense. Did you have fun?

Angela looked sheepish. "At first."

Why don't you look into the bag again? In the second pocket on the left, there's some rotpaste in a bottle you can use on the wood, and inside the inner pocket on the right, there's some roguewater that will corrode the iron.

Angela mumbled something that involved the words "unhelpful" and "turn you into a …". Solembum shut his eyes.

After applying the various pastes and solutions to the barrier, she kicked down the beams easily. Angela then spent the next few minutes hopping on one foot, clutching her toes.

This has taken long enough, grumbled Solembum. He padded to the door and pushed it open. The door's hinges wailed from centuries of disuse, and promptly crumbled into dust. The door itself fell over, smacking into the floor and throwing a cloud of dust into the air. Well, I never. You won't believe what I'm looking at right now. There's a -

Angela realised she was missing the fun and hurried to the door. "Wait! Solembum?"

There was no response. The werecat had vanished.