Chapter 9: Nuisances and Chaos
Disclaimer: See Chapter 8. And, if you see something that doesn't LOOK like it would be mine, it probably ISN'T.
Recap:
Saphira, battling the furious inactive trees, wasn't there to catch him...
...As he fell onto a soft bed of kernels, and collapsed, motionless...
Saphira roared, and fought her way out of the inactive trees, trying to get to her Rider.
Arya and Orik were hanging from the limbs of a tall oak, slightly dazed.
When they saw Eragon, like a kernel king in the bed of seeds, they quickly climbed down and ran over. (Well, they tried to climb down, Arya was still hiccupping, and Orik was well, Orik. Arya tried to jump, hiccupped in mid air, and fell out of the tree. Orik just fell.)
Saphira, not wanting to touch the kernels, reached her nose out as far as it would go, trying to get to her Rider.
But, alas, she couldn't.
The pit was so deep, and so full of kernels, it was amazing that Eragon wasn't sinking down as we speak. Well, type, but whatever.
Arya had grabbed the coil of rope that she had brought with her, and tied it around the nearest furiously inactive tree.
Orik caught on to her bright idea and held the knot in place, as Arya tied the other end of the rope around her middle.
Arya ran forward, and just as she was about to jump into the pit, the coil of rope came short, and Arya was jerked irresistibly backwards.
Arya struggled up again, ears burning as Orik's hearty laughter floated through the trees.
She marched forward to the edge of the pit, and found that she could put her toes just on it and lean forward a little, putting enough tension on the rope to almost make it break.
Which, unsurprisingly enough, it did, and Arya fell into the pit...
The authoress finished writing the last sentence, and, thoroughly satisfied, leaned back on her bed.
She looked around, and saw that something was missing.
Sitting up, she yelled, "WHERE THE HECK ARE MY PICKLE SEEDS!"
The shout brought her sister running, and she said, "You dashed them everywhere, remember?"
The authoress turned red in the face, "No, I don't remember."
The sister sneered, "Then, why don't you get a memory implant, GENIUS?"
The authoress sneered back, "There's no such thing, SMART ONE!"
The sister sneered, (again), "Yes, I am rather smart, aren't I?"
The authoress smirked and said, "Oh yeah? Last time I checked, Bob the Goldfish and Paris Hilton were smarter than you, and that's saying something."
The sister, looking outraged, said, "If YOU'RE so SMART, then why don't you remember that you smashed your pickle seeds on the floor?"
The authoress' lip trembled, and she cried, "MAMA, I WANT MY JAR OF PWICKLE SEEDS! WA-HAAAAAAAAAA!"
The sister smirked, "You are such a WEIRDO!"
The authoress wiped her eyes as the 'MAMA' came in with another jar of pickle seeds.
The authoress leapt up, and shrieked, all evidence of crying gone, "YEA, PICKLE SEEDS! YOU'RE BACK!"
The authoress proceeded to squeeze the life out of a pickle seed, and it fell on top of the bed.
And then IT died.
The authoress was too busy crunching on the pickle seeds, making furious smacking noises.
The same sister walked in again, and said, loudly, "You're WEIRD!"
The authoress glared and hugged the jar of pickle seeds closer, "Don't be a hata!"
The sister wrinkled her nose, then asked, "Can I have some?"
The authoress hugged the pickle seed jar even tighter, "Back off, you INFERIOR gold fish brain, you. Get your own."
The sister glared and muttered, stalking off, "WEIRDO!"
The authoress crunched down on a particularily satisfactory pickle seed, and called, "VERY impressive lack of vocabulary you have there. Seems like you can only say 'weirdo' and be a hata! I think Paris Hilton even did better than you! She has TWO words in her vocabulary!"
The sister turned back, face twisted in curiosity, "Really, what two words, WEIRDO!"
The authoress spat some pickle seed juice at her, which she dodged, ("Missed, AGAIN!")
She replied, "That's Hot!"
The sister stalked off in a huff, upset that that Paris bested her own meager vocabulary.
The sister came back to the mildly munching author, and said, "Oh, YEAH? Well—you're a WEIRD weirdo!"
Satisfied, the sister turned away, not before the author got her two cents in, "Oh, yeah, That's Hot..." She broke off, then grinned, "And you're NOT!"
The sister gasped, "WHAT?"
The authoress picked up another pickle seed, and said, "I know! She even RHYMED!"
The sister looked awed, "Wow."
The authoress continued, "Yeah, so the media's probably going to give her lots of attention for being the new Dr. Seuss of Hollywood or something."
The sister stomped away in a huff, muttering, "But what rhymes with 'WEIRDO'?"
The authoress chuckled and threw the pickle seed in the air, catching it in her mouth.
Orik jumped in after Arya thinking, If we're all going to die soon, we might as well do it together.
Arya fell in, thinking, I hope this is a soft landing.
Eragon couldn't think. He was too out of it. He was so out of it, you could of whiffed a latte mocha with twelve shots of expresso, whipped cream with chocolate and cinnamon sprinkles under his nose and he wouldn't even of gotten up.
Saphira, some of the remnants of the last flame she tried to cause still in the back of her throat, and SNEEZED from the massive amounts of nose itching powder the furiously inactive trees were giving off.
And then, the whole area burst into flame...
Sitting in her room, the authoress yelped as the pickle seed she was throwing up in the air caught fire and went down her throat.
Luckily, the authoress wasn't badly burned...
Unluckily, the authoress choked on the pickle seed, and lay gasping for air.
The afore mentioned sister trounced into the room, took one look at her gasping sister, and yelped, "OMG! YOU'RE CHOKING!"
When the authoress made a pleading gesture with her hands, the sister gave a grimace of disgust, saying, "WHAT A WEIRDO!" and walked around and SLAMMED the authoress in the square of the back.
The good news is the authoress stopped choking, and spat the burning pickle seed.
The bad news is that the pickle seed was still on fire.
And on the carpet.
And the sisters were just STARING at it.
The authoress glanced worriedly at the burning pickle seed, and said, "Waddle we do?"
The sister gave the pickle seed a look of apprehension, and replied tonelessly, "Dunno."
They stayed like that for another long five seconds, then turned in unision and simultaneously looked at each other, and said, "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"
The sister said, "Pour a gallon of gasoline on it and see if it goes away?"
The authoress said, "Throw it at the wall and see if it sticks?"
The sister said, "Great idea!" and threw the bucket of gasoline she was hiding behind her back at Barney the Dinosaur, who caught on fire and died.
The authoress threw the burning pickle seed at the wall, and it STUCK!
Then IT died.
The sisters took another five seconds staring at it, then the author turned to the sister and said, "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"
The sister's face lit up with an evil grin, "I THINK so."
The authoress smiled back at the sister, and they stood like that for another fifteen seconds, staring with identical evil expressions. Then, the authoress turned to the pickle jar, picked it up, and said,
"Pickle seed?"
"I swear we're not related."
But, strangely, the flames never touched the foursome who were trapped in the giant pit full of kernels.
They just went after the kernels.
Then THEY exploded...Into giant fluffy puffball morsels. A buttery aroma filled the air, and the kernels fell in a sort of beautiful dance, soft POP!'s emitting as they burst into little bite size tidbits.
Arya, Saphira, Orik, and Eragon found themselves buoyed up with the kernels/yellowish puffballs.
The kernels fell first, surprisingly enough, to form a soft, cushiony pit that the foursome could land safely on.
Saphira adjusted herself on the puffy things, content that her Rider was okay.
Orik was sniffing one of the puffy things, and said slowly, "HEY! These things look kind of familiar..."
Arya, eyes wide, shouted, "DON'T EAT IT!"
Orik chanced a hurt glance at the elf, and found that she was rather red in the face.
Apparently, elves don't take to not being on solid ground.
Orik, while Arya was frantically scanning the area for a way to get out, stuffed about ten of the morsels into his mouth.
His features took on an expression of complete bliss.
Enlightened by the great happiness he was feeling, he stood up, completely forgetting where he was standing, and ran over to Arya, who was still scanning the furiously inactive trees for some sort of idea as to how to get out of the mess.
Orik picked up another large handful of the now puffballs, and tapped Arya on the shoulder.
Arya turned around, and snapped, "WHAT?"
Orik brought the yellowish whitish things and stuffed them in Arya's mouth before she could even blink.
Arya's eyes grew wide, and she choked, and swallowed.
Orik grinned.
Arya's expression was one of pure horror...then...happiness.
Orik grinned again.
Saphira looked up over at the pair from scarfing down enormous amounts of the addicting things and grinned, revealing sharp teeth.
Arya got up woozily, and said, "Orrrikk, wha-what are those thiinnngggs?"
Orik, just as woozy, said, "I...dunnnooo...Did-didn't ya-ya-you know?"
Arya flopped down again, the fluff thingys making a soft phuft noise, and said, "I fur-fur-forgot."
Saphira, not in the least intoxicated, said, We'd better get Eragon back to camp.
Not that Eragon looked like he wasn't enjoying his self-magic-induced slumber. A smile crossed his blotchy sunburned/lack of food turned face, and his brackish brown hair flopped back and forth across his head in the breeze.
Saphira chuckled, He looks like a dog who just got into the wedding cake, then laid down for a nap.
Arya said, "R-Right then. Orik, help me with the stretcher."
Orik said, confused, "What stretcher?"
Arya looked around, muttering, "Silly me."
Arya brought a stretcher out from behind her back, and threw it at Orik's head, who unsuccessfully tried to dodge it. The stretcher bounced off Orik's thick skull, ("OW!"), and boomeranged back to Arya.
Arya frowned at the stretcher, then a light bulb turned on above her head,.
She turned and stumbled away from Orik across the meadow of puff things. She turned back towards Orik, who was watching her with a trace of apprehension; cocked her head slightly to the right, then turned and stepped to the left.
She raised the stretcher above her head, at such a precarious angle Orik was sure the stretcher would fall, then, before Orik could move, Arya whipped around and chucked the stretcher at Orik's head.
Orik leapt valiantly for safety, but the stretcher was too quick for him.
With a ZZZZING, it changed course and BOING!-ed off of Orik's head, cutting a straight path towards Saphira and Eragon.
Saphira caught the edge of the stretcher on her claw and languidly flipped it underneath her towards the saddle, where it caught on the steel rings.
Orik, not particularly fazed at the fact that he'd just had a stretcher thrown at him as for the reasons behind it, turned on Arya.
His face changed from normal skin tones rapidly to the color of an undercooked beet.
Orik glared at Arya, who was strolling casually past him, fluff stuff crunching underfoot.
Steam poured out of Orik's ears, and a whistling noise emitted involuntarily from his nose.
Arya spun around, mildly amused as Orik exploded, "WHAT WAS THAT FOR? YOU WERE TEN FEET FROM SAPHIRA AND COULD'VE CHUCKED IT AT HER FROM THERE—"
"—Wrong angle—", Arya interjected.
"—OR YOU COULD'VE JUST WALKED OVER THERE AND HANDED IT TO SAPHIRA LIKE CIVILIZED PEOPLE DO—"
"—I'm not a people, I'm an elf—"
"—SAME DIFFERENCE—"
"—Let us examine this claim—"
"—NO!"
Orik glared at Arya, breathing heavily and bellowed, "EH?"
"Too much work."
"WHAT?"
"It was too much work as to just simply contemplating the fact of doing such a mediocre act of just walking to Saphira and handing it to her."
"THIS IS STUPID!"
"Au contraire."
"SO THEN, YOU'RE LAZY!"
"I am not lazy, I am an elf."
"WHAT—EVER!"
"Make up your mind."
The corners of Arya's mouth twitched, and she flounced over to Saphira.
Orik went after her, scowling and muttering, "The IGNORANCE of some people! You just accept it, and MOVE ON!"
Arya turned around, emerald eyes sparkling, and said, "I HAVE moved on, Mr. Dwarf; whereas some people find it necessary to stick to heavy drinking and the likes."
"I AM NOT A DRUNKARD, if that is what you're suggesting."
"Shall we examine THIS claim—"
"—NO!—"
"—I certainly remember you stumbling around camp—"
"—DID NOT!—"
"—with a bottle of beer under your arm—"
"—Must've been another dwarf—"
"—singing 'Ninety-nine Bottles of Beer on the Wall'—"
"—NAH-AH!"
"Yeah-HAH!"
"—LAZY—"
"—Drunkard—"
"—ELF—"
"—Dwarf—"
"—STUPID—"
"—Short—"
"—FICKLE—"
"—Smelly—"
ENOUGH! Roared Saphira.
Orik and Arya looked about, surprised.
We need to get back.
Looking guilty, the two worked together to hoist Eragon onto the stretcher.
Well, at least, they TRIED to.
Eragon was very slippery from sitting in the butter puffs, so it was no surprise that the pair couldn't get a hold of Eragon.
"He's like a dolphin greased in lard, "Arya grumbled.
"What's a dolphin?" Orik inquired.
"Never mind."
Saphira huffed impatiently, and said, I'll get him. Pick up some of the puff stuff and put it in the sack. Saphira nodded her head in the direction of a large, bright-purple-with-green-polka-dots-canvas sail-cloth from their supply kit.
Saphira neatly hooked her claw through the neck part of Eragon's tunic, and delicately slid him onto the stretcher.
Eragon rolled over and muttered, "Mercywort..." before snuggling closer into the stretcher.
The group froze, and Orik turned slowly toward Arya, and said, "What did he say?"
Mercywort, boomed Saphira.
Arya caught on, eyes wide, and said, "That means—"
"—we found—"
"—the entire Dramur Wyrda supply—"
"—of—"
"—MERCYWORT!" They finished together, slightly incredulous.
Orik looked at Arya, a sickened expression on his face, said, "Arya you feeling—"
"—Ticklish?" Arya interrupted, realization dawning on her.
They looked at each other for another queasy moment, then both shouted at the top of their lungs, "HURRY!"
"QUICK!" Orik yelled, and strapped the bright-purple-with-green-polka-dots canvas sail-cloth to Saphira's scaly legs.
Arya, palm out, called calmly at a quarter of the Mercywort meadow, "RISA!" The fluffy, puffy, Mercywort rose in the air, like a yellowish whitish cloud. Arya directed the plentiful Mercywort at the bright purple-with-green-polka-dots-canvas, then dropped her arms away so that the Mercywort fell neatly into the sack.
Orik finished tying off the canvas, then hopped on Saphira, Arya following.
Saphira gave two great beats of her wings, flattening the furiously inactive trees and scattering the entire meadow of Mercywort everywhere.
They took off into the sunset, a dwarf, an elf, a dragon and her Rider, all giggling slightly...
(A/N): All right...Little bit of space b/tw this chapter and the last, but writer's block is NOT FUN!-no matter what they say on Mars. I have some thingy's to say, so bear with me:
Much thanks to: Fallen0Angel, for letting me use Bob the goldfish, (who ROX MY SOX!), and all patient readers...
Dedications to: 'the sister', who I love very much, and who does in fact have a rather large vocabulary. :D
R&R...NOW!...Pleaseandthankyou...:D.