I'm quite proud to be updating so quickly, even though this is a short chapter. The reviews definitely were an encouragement; they really made my week. :)
Lemon fresh: OH MY GOSH. LONGEST REVIEW EVER. IN THE ENTIRE UNIVERSE. EVER. I would love to pm you sometime, so could you sign in or make a new account?
Bronze Butterfly: This chapter is for you, because you reminded me that I haven't actually written about Eragon in a while, and well... things have changed, for him.
: You genius, you. I didn't think anyone would actually notice that Murtagh spoke an order rather than "words of freedom", as you put it, but I figured he would partly do that because that's all he really knows at this point. He has next to no experience with freedom; Thorn has none.
Yes, anyway, review away, my darlings! I would love some theories, and ALL WILL BE REVEALED SOON. :D
Chapter 55: Eragon's Moon
Eragon smiled.
111.
82.
A cow. A beautiful, purple cow.
23.
"Oh, shut up."
Eragon blinked, the numbers above him blurring and changing, confusing him.
45.
1,987.
"Shut. Up."
Eragon furrowed his brow.
Pickles. Pickles were blue.
The moon was blue.
Cows jumped over the moon.
Cows ate pickles.
Pickles. Pickles pick prickly pears.
Prickly pears.
"Shut UP YOU DAFT-!" A sigh fell upon Eragon's ears. "Sorry, elda."
"I understand." A weak, dry voice replied; a woman's voice, once sweet, but damaged from screaming and-
Prickly pears. Of course the prickly pear had hurt her.
"But do you see? This is what they did to you too; his is worse, obviously, so there's still hope for you."
"But what about him?"
"I can't tell." The first voice said.
Was that the voice of the prickly pear-?
Eragon's heart lurched as he thought of the prickly pear coming to take away the numbers-
"Honestly, Eragon, I can't hurt you, so just stop it. I'm not the prickly pear, and the numbers most definitely are not going anywhere anytime soon. You're fine."
Eragon knew that voice, somehow... that rough, deep voice...
"I'm sorry, Elda, let me just-"
"No, no, please." The second voice, the sweeter, gentler voice, interrupted. "Tend him before me. He needs it more than I do."
"Oh, you- you're stupid, to say that. We don't know-"
"If you keep healing me, they'll know you're still here." The second voice argued. "You need to retain your strength and- and gain some weight for the journey-"
"And that will never happen if you're in constant pain!"
"I had heard Eragon healed you-"
"Not entirely, now be quiet and let me sleep. Talk to Eragon, would you? He still suspects that I'm a prickly pear. Who knows; perhaps he'll think you're the moon."
"The moon-?"
"Don't ask; it's impossible for us to understand."
"He obviously understands; I've touched the boundaries of insanity, child, and everything still made sense to me. It depends-"
"-Grip something, elda, it's going to start burning in a moment-"
"-on perspective, and thank you for the warning."
"You're the moon?" Eragon croaked, far behind the conversation.
"No, Shurturgal." The Moon answered. "I am a prisoner like you."
"The prickly pear is blue." Eragon warned her.
A cry suddenly rang through the room; Eragon shuddered as the Moon gasped and whimpered. He wondered what the prickly pear had done to her.
"Please." The other prisoner murmured. "Please let me heal you."
"No." The Moon choked. "Don't. I have survived worse; heal the Shurturgal."
"He's beyond saving."
"I don't believe you."
"That's because you're stupid."
"That's because I have hope."
What was hope? Was it some kind of a weapon? Was the Moon going to use it against the prickly pear?
The other prisoner did not answer.
"Please save yourself, child."
"No one wants me."
"Then show them that they need you. Remind the Varden of your worth; I'm sure they're missing you."
"Not me. They miss my sight."
"But your sight is still-"
"Hush!"
Both fell silent; Eragon sensed a sudden electricity in the air, a tension, like something bad was about to happen. Was it because of the 66 and the 1 in the sky?
"They're here."
Both took a sharp breath.
Who was where?
"You need to go, child."
"And get lost again? Where am I supposed to go?"
"You have the chalk; don't be afraid to try. You must try. You must not give in."
"They have more soldiers now."
"Soldiers with a quarter of your ability. Go. You must try; you cannot give up!"
"Fine." The first prisoner sighed. "Fine, I'll go. I'll see you again in a few hours. Just try not to get killed this round, alright?"
"I will try."
"And tell me what they do to Eragon, aye?"
"I will."
Another sigh. "You're stupid."
"You've told me before." The Moon answered.
"And it looks like I'll have to tell you again. I look forward to it."
"Hurry, child, before they get here."
"I'm going, I'm going!" The prisoner huffed. "I'm gone now."
Eragon heard the shuffle of small feet and waited for the groan of a heavy door, but no such sound came. Only the vague echoes of something crawling down a hole, growing softer and softer till Eragon could not hear it anymore.
"Moon?"
"Yes, Shurturgal?"
"Are you going to kill the prickly pear?"
A soft chuckle. "No, Shurtugal; I cannot. But I know someone who can."
"Where is he?"
"I don't know." The Moon answered, softly, like she was afraid of her own words. "I'm not even sure he's alive."
"Sad." Eragon sighed.
Moon did not reply, but Eragon thought she might have been crying.
She was certainly crying later, when one of the prickly pear returned.
