A/N: Can anyone else believe that Anne McCaffrey reviewed Eragon, giving it "full praise…and I want more?" Is she blind? Anyhow, she probably didn't want to hurt his feelings, and here's chapter 5!

Chapter Five: A Costly Mistake

After many days in the wilderness, Eragon, Brom and Saphira finally made it to Teirm (is anyone able to pronounce that?) to get a little laminated card. Eragon and Brom stood bedraggled in front of the gates, Eragon with a sour expression on his face and Brom with a hint of a smirk. Much had happened on their journey through the Spine (of the World), which I shall not delve too deeply into.

In a nutshell, Brom and Saphira had had the time of their lives at Eragon's expense. Saphira felt slightly guilty, but Brom only looked at Teirm with enormous relief. The reason – they'd run out of VB.

Seeing how it was the middle of the day the large gates of Teirm were closed for absolutely no reason, so they had to run through a little ritual just to be admitted into town.

Brom led Eragon straight to Jeod (JODE)'s house. They spared a brief glance for the herbalist's store next-door, and a brilliant idea occurred to Eragon. He filed it away in his mind. Brom knocked on the door.

Jeod's wife answered, speaking quite rudely to them as the world wasn't as friendly as it used to be. When she went to tell Jeod of their arrival, Eragon commented fairly on her impoliteness.

"Keep your opinions to yourself!" Snapped Brom (a direct quote from the book, just showing the old wise mentor is sometimes impatient and angry over NOTHING!). "Let me do the talking."

Eragon clamped his mouth shut quite literally. He thought he was proving a point. Poor boy.

Jeod was just as old as Brom and almost as unreasonably impatient but probably not as prone to revelry. He led them to a chamber in the citadel because apparently eavesdroppers lurked all throughout the city. People were more likely to listen in on conversations in the citadel of the city than in a relatively quiet house in a relatively quiet street.

Jeod was fascinated by the startling coincidence of Eragon having the same name as the first rider. He also provided this little revelation: The first Rider's dragon was called Bid'Daum. Yeah, it's just your usual Paolini name, with a meaningless, enigmatic apostrophe strutting its stuff in the middle of the word, but no – look deeper! Spell it backwards: Maud'Dib, a creature from Frank Herbert's sci-fi classic Dune. Rage in your seats – why Paolini! Why?! There are also some other peculiar similarities between Dune and Eragon, which Jeod failed to mention because of his bad memory.

Brom told Jeod how he'd had to hide in Carvahall (where he played the role of "man who is more than he seems in a quiet town and strongly resembles Belgarath"). He said many other boring things, not telling everything because he didn't want Eragon to hear before exiling him to check on the horses.

Eragon was startlingly bright enough to know they were hiding something from him and using the old "check on the horses" trick so they could talk about it. However, he was still thick and cowardly enough to actually go check on them before becoming an eavesdropper himself.

Brom and Jeod didn't talk about much, only the rebel group called the Varden, who wanted to overthrow "the dark king." Where would the story be without those who want JUSTICE!

Brom and Jeod decided to celebrate their reunion by carousing in the streets.

"The Empire may be looking out for you boy," Brom told Eragon, "so try to be unnoticed as you check out this city."

Eragon nodded. He's letting me free! He exclaimed to Saphira.

Good. She said smugly. I'm happy for you.

Eragon wasn't sure if she was being sarcastic so he just continued on his way to the herbalist's next-door to Jeod's house. It was time to execute his marvellous idea.

It smelled like herbs inside the herbalist's, which Eragon decided was natural after a minute of thought. He had a brief encounter with a talking cat which wasn't called Salem. Werecats have been unheard of for some time; my critical scanners have picked up on nothing.

"Hi luv I'm Angela, whadda ya want?" The owner of the store showed herself. She was a witch and frightened Eragon for a moment.

"Oh," said Eragon, startled, "I was wondering if you could brew something for me."

"Anything you want," said Angela mystically. Excuse me, that adverb was a touch out of place. It's just that I can't resist – she's just such a mysterious character. "But before we do that I want to tell your fortune."

She did so. She found that Eragon was special, and not just because he was able to talk with a werecat. You wouldn't think it, but Eragon's got a lot going for him, what with being a Dragon Rider and having an interesting fate (having to leave the country in the vein of Frodo and Sam), destined to meet a beautiful princess and also eventually having great magic and sword fighting skills. He's an all rounder.

"So whaddaya wan' me to brew ferya?" Angela asked.

"Just a little concoction to give my friend a surprise," Eragon explained, "Something painful that makes him seem like he's dead."

"Ya wan' me ta kill 'im?" Angela asked.

"No, no! Of course not!" Eragon protested, "Just give him a fright, that's all. His name's Brom, and he deserves it."

"Brom!" Angela exclaimed, "I know him. His occupation is somewhat of a joke among my kind, so I'll be glad to get back at him ferya. You're right, he does deserve it, after all the VB he spits in people's faces and all the people he gets angry at for no reason."

She began to whip something up for Eragon and she handed him a small vial in no time. He thanked her and set out to get Brom back for his harsh teaching methods.

Little one, thought Saphira reproachfully, you and I both know that you shouldn't be doing this. He may a bit strict but he's funny too—

No he's not, thought Eragon firmly. When she didn't reply he liked to imagine that she'd raised her eyebrows as if in agreement.

It wasn't too difficult to locate Brom. Eragon saw him from a distance, trademark VB in hand, dancing in the street with Jeod.

"So much for being inconspicuous, filthy hypocrite," growled Eragon.

"Boy! What are ya doing? I told you to stay unnoticed!" Brom snarled, then broke into a bout of uncontrollable laughter.

"You're a hypocrite!"

"What?"

"I said," said Eragon slowly (making his voice deeper with a brief thought for Saphira), "you're a hypocrite."

"What!"

Eragon rolled his eyes and pretended to dance behind his contradictory mentor. After a few misses he got some of Angela's potion into Brom's can.

Brom took a swig and the effects were instantaneous. He fell to the ground after a fit of coughing and much cradling of his head. Jeod danced off, evidently unaware of the apparent demise of his long-time friend. Eragon smirked – victory.

Eragon thought he was triumphant, but over the next few days Brom didn't wake up. Worry and guilt began to gnaw at his soul until Saphira urged him to take the old man to Angela, who was also a doctor as well as an herbalist.

She took one look at him and surmised that he was… "Dead."

"What! I didn't want this!" Eragon screamed.

I told you so, little one, Saphira said smugly.

A/N: Ooh – Cliffy! Not really. Please tell me what you think.