Chapter 7: Mutterings and Hiccups
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Saphira maneuvered her great body deftly between the trees, frantic to get to Arya and Orik.
Arya looked up at the sky, and seeing no raindrops, punched the sleeping Orik on the shoulder and crawled out of the cramped cave.
Orik grunted, turned over and mumbled, "Orik wants a beer..." Arya sighed at her uncooperative companion and grabbed the pail of rainwater sitting nearby.
She heaved the bucket over to where Orik was trying to sleep.
Readying the bucket into a comfortable position, she unceremoniously tipped the bucket onto Orik's head.
Orik sat bolt upright and attempted to heave a big breath to bellow. Arya sped over to the other bucket of water and ran back, dumping the second bucket over Orik's head.
Orik, water lodged in his throat, exhaled, and coughed, much like a duck with peanut butter stuck in his throat would.
The effect was rather comical.
A dwarf man, wet from head to foot, shivering, coughing and sniveling, (much like a three year old with a cold would), in the chill morning breeze.
At that moment, Saphia lumbered into camp, to come upon a drenched and mutinous Orik and an Arya with a small, satisfied smirk etched across her swarthy elven features.
Saphia blinked, rather amused at the predicament, then remembering the situation at hand, said hurriedly, Eragon has gotten himself into...
Saphira hesitated, and Arya raised and eyebrow, so she continued.
--a rather—awkward—predicament.
Arya grabbed a blanket from her pack and threw it at the muttering, (rather darkly, too), Orik. She said, "How so?"
Saphira proceeded to explain how far into trouble, (trouble being the pile of rocks), and the state of his condition.
Arya had kept rather still and silent during Saphira's explanation, but when she reached the part about the pile of rocks, her stony facial expression cracked into a grin.
Which turned into a toothy smile.
Which turned into a broad 'watermelon' shaped row of pearly whites.
Which aroused a small chuckle from the back of Arya's throat.
Which turned into a small chortle of mirth.
Which turned into a bell of laughter.
Which prolonged into an expansive knee-slapping fit.
Which turned into a hearty guffaw, ending with Arya rolling around the camp, interrupting her rolls with small bouts of spasmic laughter.
When, the author got so annoyed about the extensive laughing scene that she thought about throwing Arya off the cliff, but that's another story...
Arya finally came to from her world of merriment and hilarity, and walked toward her pack, interrupted her walk with small hiccups.
Arya collected her pack, and slung it on Saphira's back, her amble around the campsite stopped short every few strides by a small hiccup!
Orik, already settled on Saphira's back, looked back at the hiccupping elf, and a slow, evil smile spread across his face. Oh yes, he was going to get back at Arya for that water stunt, oh yes indeed...
Arya clambered up Saphia's hindleg and swung herself gracefully into her seat, jumping when a hiccup suspended her climb.
Orik, still grinning rather evilly, looked at her.
Arya stared suspiciously back at him, "Wha-hiccup!-what?"
Orik turned around and said in a voice barely controlling glee, "Oh, nothing."
Saphira beat her wings impatiently, startling the two riding, We'd be there by now, hurry up!
Arya and Orik quickly fastened the straps anchoring them to the saddle.
Well, at least Orik fastened his straps.
Arya tried to.
Her mild hiccupping was now so out of control that she couldn't keep her hands steady save for the wild jolting of her problem.
She soon became frustrated, and Orik could almost see steam coming out of her ears.
Orik grinned, "Having trouble, princess?"
Arya gritted her teeth, cursing herself for dumping water all over what she knew, (from Hvedra, of course), was the best prankster in all of dwarven history. She replied, "Just fine," and muttered angrily so that Orik couldn't hear, "just FINE."
Orik saw how close the elf was to completely losing it, and said, rather exasperatedly, "Here, let me tie it."
Arya sat back and fumed, too busy berating herself for her foolish hiccupping that she didn't notice that Orik had tied an intricate system of knots over her feet, intertwining her boot-laces with the saddle knots.
Orik turned around and grabbed hold, slightly anxious about flying, and said, "Let's roll."
Saphira turned around in puzzlement, I don't believe I'm familiar with that phrase. It's rather interesting though.
Orik grunted, "Famous line. Never mind. Let's fly, boys."
This time both Arya and Saphira inquired incredulously, "Boys?" I am not a boy.
Orik moaned, covering his face in his hands, "Just GO!"
Saphira's enormous wings spread out, and the trio took off into the sunrise...
Eragon, meanwhile, had almost gone insane.
Not insane, mind you, as in taking leave of your wits.
Oh, NO.
Insane, as in completely LOSING them never to be found EVER. Good bye, Adios, Sianara, Horavou, (I CAN'T SPELL!), and all those good things.
Eragon had actually gone so far as to try again and strike up another conversation with the offending tree.
The tree, I'm sure, was very intent on the minor details of Eragon's childhood, (how he decided he was now a pig when he was five and went mucking around in the pig pen for a day before Garrow came out and threw him in the river), and other things...
When he first spotting shadowy movements among the trees, he thought he was double-hallucinating.
Double-hallucinating, because he was already hallucinating from lack of water and sun fever.
So, I guess hallucinating hallucinating. Anyways...
He heard voices arguing in loud tones, (he tried to discern, and eventually found thus a female and a male speaking, which he assumed to be Orik and Arya.)
Arya was saying, sounding highly irritated, "All I did was WAKE YOU UP!"
Orik growled back, "And it wasn't very DRY either."
Ayra's voice rose, "Well, you weren't going to get up anyhow, you stupid beerhead!"
"Am not!"
"Oh, and I suppose all those BOTTLES are just my imagination, ARE THEY?"
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"The SCENT of beer is on your pillow!"
"ARE YOU SUGGESTING I SLEEP WITH BEER?"
"You might as well, everything else you tote around smell as though it's been doused with it."
The voices were coming closer, and Eragon craned his neck to make sure he wasn't dreaming, (and he'd been doing that a lot lately, of a warm bed, of cake, chocolate, of a sword, of chocolate, of Saphira, of chocolate...)
"ARRRRRRR!"
Arya and Orik came into view, with Orik's arms raised above his head in an angry gesture.
They were so deep in their 'discussion' that at first they didn't notice him.
"Arya, " Eragon croaked out, too weak to shout.
Arya backed away from Orik's raised arms and pinched her nose, "See, even your under arms smell like it. Have you been BATHING in it?"
"Arya!" Eragon managed to make his voice a little louder.
Orik lowered his arms and growled, glaring a fierce death glare at the mildly amused elf.
They stood like this for another few moments before Eragon broke the silence, assuming that he was dreaming, and said, "WHO'S-YOUR-DADDY?"
Arya and Orik jumped, spinning around at the same time and forgetting their anger of a few moments earlier.
They said in unison, Orik delighted, and Arya cautious, "ERAGON!"
Eragon's face was both red from sunburn and white from lack of food and water at the same time. A thin line of blood dripped out of his peeling nose. His brown hair was matted and dirty, almost black with filth.
His clothes were torn and dusty, but other than that, he seemed to be all right.
Save, the fact that his body was contorted at an impossible angle, in the hole, in the pile of rocks.
Orik moved forward, anxious and happy to greet his clan member and to check if he was okay.
Arya darted forward, catching hold of Orik's arm and commanded, "Wait, how do we know this is Eragon and not an imposter? Since Saphira can't get through these trees, how can we tell?"
Orik stopped his advance on Eragon and frowned, "You're right."
He thought for a moment, and called out to 'Eragon', "OI! YOU, BOY!"
Eragon, who's head was lolling madly, eyes staring blankly and grinning in an insane way, stopped and said, "I'm...SEXY!"
Arya slapped her hand head and fought the urge to roll her eyes.
Orik groaned and said, "Yep, that's Eragon all right."
Arya moved closer, trying to discover the best way to pop Eragon out of the hole.
Eragon noticed her coming closer, and crooned, "Hey..bebe."
Arya went rigid, thinking, Oh, No!
Eragon, rocking back in forth in the hole, and uttered, "How you doing?"
Arya, without thinking, reached over and slapped Eragon across the face.
Orik hooted and hollered, laughing at what a pair the two made.
Eragon looked as if she had said "No dessert after dinner." He said, "Ouch, c'mon, you know you want me!"
Arya, ashamed of hitting Eragon in his state, (when he was unlikely to remember anything anyone said until he was healed), sighed a quick, "No," and resumed trying to find a loose rock.
Eragon, completely forgetting about Arya already, (ADD in this state is NOT GOOD), rocked back and forth and sang, "Cos, if I was an Oscar Meyer Weiner..."
Arya and Orik looked at each other, then back at Eragon, a mixture of puzzlement, amusement, and curiosity on their faces.
Eragon lolled his head back towards Orik and Arya, his eyelids fluttering closed in sleep,
"...Everyone would be in love with me..."
(A/N): R&R. NOW! Pleaseandthankyou. :D