Well, I gave the impression that I was going to give three chapters... and I'm really sorry, but I am only delivering two.
Alas, if things were only that simple.
"None to hear him," he thought. Well, it might've been smart to check and see if there really wasn't anyone around to hear his rooster calls and ringing laughter. Seeing as he didn't, he was unaware of a very sneaky little chipmunk sitting underneath a coniferous snow drift.
A very sneaky and curious little chipmunk, I might add.
Unfortunately for Bid'Daum, this was no chipmunk, it was actually a ridiculously eager young elfling. Who had been spying on Eragon for a long time. Spies are supposed to be secret you know. That's why in ancient Japan the samurai hired ninjas. Ninjas are masters at secrets. So was she.
His master plan was now simple, efficient, and so creative that he wondered if maybe he could finally make friends with Bid'Daum. He certainly was changing Eragon's perspective on things—as much as Eragon hated the thought, he knew that if Bid'Daum didn't exist he wouldn't have been creative enough to find a foolproof escape strategy.
Eragon left six days before the new-year, early in the morning before any other elves were awake to begin the New-Year Sanctification rituals. It would be suspicious. He knew it. He left most of his belongings in his tent, to make it seem as though he was merely out on a walk. He only took his sword, bow, a flask of faelnirv and his coat.
Before the sun had risen he walked backwards to a tree—to make it seem as though he had come from that tree in the first place. He clambered up as best as he could considering he was doing so backwards, and began his journey.
His plan was foolishly vague, too vague to carry out with only a drink for rations and no sort of portable shelter. But that was exactly what he was doing.
"And it's exhilirating, only having yourself to depend on. No civilized comforts, no assurance that you'll ever come back." Eragon had been on the move for three hours now, hoping to put as much distance as he could in between him and the army in as little time.
His focus was intense, and his thoughts were set on distance, on balance, on conserving energy, and not on wondering whether or not he was being watched. And definitely not suspecting that a chipmunk was after him.
Well, following him in any case.
See, Eragon's winter garb was meant for warmth. Not camouflage. Making him as easy to follow as a giant red dragon. Well, maybe not that easy. He didn't breathe fire. His fingernails couldn't gouge through an elf like butter. You get the idea.
He was fast. But you could see him from a league off. And chipmunks, they have fur that changes color to match their surroundings. They're chameleons of the mammal kingdom. Granted, they can only change their color during very specific times of the year (like when it snows and when it doesn't.) And they can only change one color. From brown to white, and white back to brown again.
Okay, okay, they're not the chameleons of the mammal kingdom. They can just lose all their fur and get it all back at one time. Besides, we are speaking figuratively here. You realize the "chipmunk" is really an elf wearing a white coat, right? Eragon's coat is brown. That stands out. White doesn't stand out against white. It just becomes white. All white.
So, the elf-who-is-not-really-a-chipmunk-but-we-will-call-her-that-anyways was tracking Eragon. She was imitating his travel pattern, quite precisely, quite silently, quite stealthily.
Bid'Daum knew they were being followed. Eragon knew he was being followed. Secretly. We have a lot of secrets here, don't we? Nobody tells anybody anything.
Let me explain why Eragon didn't try to protect himself from being tracked. You know, when he travels, he has this tendency of thinking intensely about a mysterious elf-lady by a body of water, or maybe about an elf clad in all black that saved his life. Twice, probably. And probably you understand that moving on his two feet, or sitting on the back of a horse that is moving on it's four hooves puts him in a mood to think of these things, no matter how set he is on putting as much distance as physically possible between himself and the army. If that made sense, and you didn't have to reread it, give yourself a pat on the back and predict the end of this fiction in a review. If you're right, you won't have to wait until I finish to know what happens.
Anyways, he figures that she's the elf-in-black, and he wants to meet this elf-in-black. So he plunges onward, waiting for the elf-in-black to make a wrong move so he can catch this elf and find out what's going on with the whole, being followed, and saving his life, and all that great stuff. If you had an unknown stalker that happened to help you left and right, you'd want to know if s/he was actually a stalker or some sort of mysterious admirer who knew too much, or maybe an old grandpa that came from the future to tell him what to do or...
"Bid'Daum, you can stop telling me who the elf-in-black might be," Eragon rolled his eyes, and contemplated making camp or looking for a real chipmunk to eat.
"The elf-in-black might be a famous chef who brought you fruits so you don't have to resort to animal-ism!"
"Bid'Daum. Animal-ism? Like cannibalism but for animals?"
"You're good at this. Oooh! Maybe the elf-in-black is really a secret agent sent from the dragons to kill you and get the egg back. Hah!"
"Bid'Daum. Shut. Up. Or tell me why I shouldn't eat animals, do something useful besides waste energy on plot paths we've already traversed upon."
"Ooooh, being fancy are we Mister I-am-too-good-to-have-an-imaginary-friend-that-is-secretly-evil-Pants. Animals are friends, not food. You wouldn't even know how to make the muscles edible. You'd probably eat the venom-sacks and kill yourself. That is why you shouldn't eat animals. You're not a dwarf!" Bid'Daum could make anything sound bad.
"You sure about that?" Eragon asked, stomach rumbling. "It wouldn't hurt to learn how to eat like one, considering the fact that we may need their help in the future and it's polite to eat what's set in front of you."
Bid'Daum laughed heartily. "I'm playing with you, kid. You'd make a great dwarf. You're not only short for your age, but everyone chooses you last for the army, and then they give you a measely position because they don't want you becoming a hero. You know how it is," Bid'Daum shrugged playfully.
"Come on, I know you have some sort of idea on how to catch, cook and eat a rabbit. Or a wolf. Or a bear." There was bound to be some sort of animal to eat somewhere.
"Or we could have scrambled dragon-eggs for supper," Bid'Daum suggested smugly.
"NOT funny," Eragon snarled, appetite gone.
"Really? I found it absolutely hilarious," Bid'Daum laughed mockingly.