I'm drowning in a period of heavy work and getting six hours of sleep a night, and this thing gushes out of me. Behold a missing scene from Chapter 28: A Moment of Respite.
Growing up at the outskirts of civilization, Eragon had found as a child simply riding into Carvahall on Uncle Garrow's bumpy old wagon had been a delight. A farmer's life had not been an an easy one. Even a young boy could help tend to the chickens or weed the garden. There simply hadn't been much time to go into the village proper and wrestle with the boys his age.
Once he had dreamed of simply visiting a city like Teirm. His responsibilities as a new Rider and the urge to hunt down his uncle's murderers had overshadowed what time in Teirm had not been spent pouring over scrolls and tomes with Brom. Dras-Leona had been the site of Brom's murder, a father figure who had sacrificed himself to save the foolish boy who could not protect himself, let alone his loved ones.
Eragon had gazed up in wonder at the Star Sapphire of Tronjheim, City of Eternal Twilight. He had witnessed elves sing the trees of Ellesmera into shapes that suited their needs. Castle Town was a marvel all its own.
There were towns and cities elsewhere in Hyrule, but Castle Town was its beating heart. Human vendors hawked their wares and passed him on the street, but they were far outnumbered by Hylians. After his transformation in the Blood-Oath Ceremony Eragon had believed himself forever set apart from others, too graceful to be human and yet too coarse to be elven. Among dwarves and elves he would have been the obvious outsider even if he had not been their Dragon Rider, the symbol of their hope. Despite the odd glances his clothing attracted, he was but another face in the crowd.
So was Saphira, in the Hylian form bestowed upon her by Faron's blessing. She walked freely alongside him, marveling at street musicians or simply children passing by holding their mother's hands. They were daily signs of life, those not so different from Carvahall. With a pang Eragon realized Saphira had only witnessed these scenes from afar. The gawking crowds her true form attracted disrupted the mundane.
Like a child, Saphira dragged him to every colorful stand and sight. Eragon wistfully remembered acting the same way whenever the Traders and their exotic wares had passed through the village. Uncle Garrow's stern glares had quickly made him outgrow his wishes to impulsively waste any of their hard-earned crowns on 'useless trinkets.' Now he gently had to remind Saphira even she couldn't stomach food from every stall or have the time to learn every shiny new weapon a human body could wield.
Eragon thought he was being perfectly reasonable about balancing their purpose with taking in a little more of the land they were risking so much to save. Midna did not agree.
"Oh, for Goddesses' sake, you idiots aren't tourists!"
Eragon blinked a little at the word. Tourism. What a fascinating concept. Elves and Riders had centuries to ponder the world and its wonders before the Fall had brutally ended their expeditions. Hyruleans, or at least a portion of them, had the time and rupees to waste on idle leisure. Lake Hylia's absurd attractions existed for a reason. Someone visited them enough to keep the ventures profitable.
Saphira rolled her eyes. "We're still buying my Blue Tunic, are we not? We're simply taking the interesting route.'
"And how many rupees did you just blow on that shady beggar and his 'spirit of love?'"
"It's not like we have a small fortune left over," Eragon pointed out. Their adventures had uncovered a surprising amount of rupees squirreled away in seemingly every corner of the kingdom. "Shadd says Merle's honest in his prices. Blatantly so."
Unlike the infamous owner of Chudley's Fine Goods and Fancy Trinkets Emporium. After hearing the rumors of outrageous prices for everyday items from disgusted people in the square, Eragon and Saphira had only wanted to peek at the shop's wares. At the door they had instead met the upturned nose of Chudley himself.
Chudley had politely requested Eragon go find some tidier footwear before visiting again. His gaze had lingered on Saphira's blade and breeches before smoothly suggesting she return after locating more elegant attire. His disdain had became slightly less veiled when he noticed the runes that traced themselves on Saphira's skin, barely visible in the daylight.
No longer shrouded in the Twilight, Eragon still had a bit of dragon in him. He did not scowl at the last remark. He snarled.
Chudley quailed back, blubbering apologies about how of course the fine lady and gentleman could enter his fine emporium and expect luxurious goods at lavish discounts.
Eragon had worked against his wordless fury for a proper response. Saphira had instead thanked Chudley being the first person she felt inclined to punch rather than set on fire. The man's flabbergasted expression and Midna's cackle were vengeance enough.
The Curiosity Ship, less grandiose in name, was nonetheless apt. Midna whistled at the display window's contents.
Saphira's eyes narrowed at such a reaction. "Yes, very pretty necklaces. Why are they so special to you?"
"I know a good talisman when I see one. The power in that thing is potent. Nowhere near enough to withstand Zant, of course... but I'm grudgingly impressed to see protections of this skill made available to the public in this realm." Midna made a small noise of consideration. "Guess Zelda isn't such a one-off when it comes to magical prowess."
Eragon frowned at the price. From Shad's rough estimates on what a Blue Tunic should cost they did not have enough such a talisman too at this time. "Would something like that be worth buying?"
From his shadow eyes blinked incredulously up at him. "Your dragon was personally blessed by a Light Spirit. You're the Champion of Farore. You honestly think any mere mortal magic can improve upon that?"
His left hand clenched at the reminder. Instead of responding he strode forward into the shop. A bell tinkled as he opened the door and stepped inside. His greeting to the shopkeeper withered and died on his lips. Eragon's gaze instead riveted to what hung behind the counter.
That sound, so soft beneath the sounds of Castle Town spilling in from the open door... He knew that sound like he knew...
(not enough time there's never enough time why does it always come down to TI-)
Saphira nudged him as she squeezed her way in behind him, hand on his shoulder. The air grew hot as she called up the power to yank him out of the way and transform. One good breath of flame could set that cluttered little shop alight.
What's wrong?
Eragon blinked, startled. In his mindless panic he had grasped the hilt of his blade. He tried to recall why he had wanted it. He couldn't remember.
...Nothing, Saphira. His fingers slacked as he returned the hand to his side. I'm fine.
The shopkeeper was a man with a head of curly brown hair and a well-trimmed beard. Earnest blue eyes flicked disbelievingly between them and the object above his head. "Of all the things in my shop that set off your 'hack it to death instinct'... it was the clock? It's not even magical!"
Cannons and gunpowder may have been unknown to Alagaesia, but clocks were not. All races had practical needs of recording time's passage. Dwarves preferred finely-wrought hourglasses or lanterns that burned down oil in measured increments. Elven clocks relied on means natural and magical, creating timepieces more for form than function. Humans used whatever was available, from rough sundials to elaborate devices that counted down water droplets to the second.
Eragon fought to keep his fists from clenching. Midna had sneered enough that his homeland was a backwater.
"The sound of it," he conceded. "We have traveled in dangerous places as of late, places where hearing a small sound may mean the difference between dodging a blow or getting killed by it. The... ticking reminded me of something else."
"That outfit suggests either lethal wishful thinking or outright lunacy, but the steel in your stance says otherwise." Then the shopkeeper scrutinized Saphira. "Is that a mask you're wearing? Our store isn't a masquerade."
Eragon tensed, sensing the shopkeeper referred to far more than Saphira's runes. Yet she only shrugged in response. "A face no more real than my other one."
"Eh. Fair enough." His gaze flicked back to Eragon. "I'm serious about the clock, though. Not even one of the magical ones you need to waste magic on winding up. Just good ol' human engineering. Our shop runs on precise business hours. Wouldn't need one if that clock tower ever gets constructed, but no one can agree on how the damn thing should be built."
Once more Eragon shook off a shiver of dread and pressed onward. "Are you Merle? Shad Gramme recommended your shop to us."
The shopkeeper nodded brightly. "That I am. I'm the twin with the Goddess given fortune to still have his hair. What Merrdin procures, I peddle. What Sky People relic is Shad hunting down this time?"
The Curiosity Shop was brimming with wares that had even Midna whispering questions into his ears, but Eragon hurried them in purchasing the Blue Tunic and in moving onward. Despite the conversation they had stricken up with Merle, nothing had drowned out the ticking of that gods damned clock.
The Zelda franchise is glorious in how anachronistic it can be from game to game. MM's Termina appeared several centuries ahead of the medieval-ish OoT Hyrule, but several elements of TP give off Steam Punk vibes. Certainly clocks like those common in Termina should be a thing by TP's period. Alagaesia may be a world where the repeating crossbow (first invented in 300 BC in the Western world) may be devil's magic, but numerous means of somewhat accurately measuring time should be well established in a medieval setting.
Why, yes, you aren't imagining those MM references ;) If TP and TRR by extension were a love letter to OoT, it's only natural the sequel would be a love letter to something else ;)