I'm sorry to say that I lost a good chunk of this chapter. It included the dialogue with the dwarves, which was quite humorous. Anyway, here is what happened:
Eragon encounters the party of dwarves that refuses to share information with him. Enraged because of his failure, Eragon attempts to invade the mind of their leader, but the necklaces they wore around their necks prevents him from doing so. One of the dwarves shoots an arrow in Eragon's leg during the moment of weakness created by the magic of the necklace.
Subdued, with no means to retrieve information, Eragon helplessly waits for the dwarves to cease bickering about the plans they reserved for him. Meanwhile, Saphira arrives at the scene, and her presence stops the dwarves from doing anything irrational.
Eragon's heart leaped with joy when he took sight of a glimmer of sapphire. Even between the deceiving branches and their adornments he could see Saphira's tentative approaches. She wished to land, but was not able to.
Eragon rose to his feet, using Brisingr's sheath for another purpose besides protecting the blade inside. There wa another clearing he took notice of during his search.
Pushing the sheath into the ground, Eragon hopped on one leg like and old cripple, repeating the sa,e procedure until the trees took him from view. The way was difficult, uncertain and far from painless, but for once Eragon chose wisely.
Being in Saphira's warm embrace almost felt surreal. And it could have been if the smooth scales were only a conjuration of a tired, addled mind. During such moments, reality often became obscure.
Saphira pushed her snout into Eragon's shoulder, demanding more attention. Eragon immediately complied, brushing her scales and scratching them like he did for a good while now. It was not a lie, even if it seemed to be one. The recent incident no longer bothered Saphira. This fact alone removed one of the heaviest burdens that weighted Eragon's heart.
Let me lend you at least a bit, little one, Saphira pleaded.
I ought you know by now that I'm a stubborn fool, Eragon said.
Then you leave me no choice.
Eragon leaned back, gritting his teeth. Saphira's jaws were not exactly delicate with the arrow lodged into his thigh, but then again, Eragon did not have much of a saying. Enough words were wasted denying the energy that Saphira was so willing to part, leaving room only for actions.
That was a bad choice, Eragon said, fists clenched in pain.
I offered you many ways around it, and not just once, Saphira growled. And stop moving that leg!
Amidst the pain wracking his lower regions and Saphira's growls, Eragon chuckled. Seeing that immense maw tryng to grab a tiny arrow was something very uncommon.
A low growl followed and Eragon,s smirk disappeared like a flicking flame.
"Arghh," his scream echoed through the forest.
It hurts less if you don't think about it, Saphira said in his mind. She then growled, unfortunately for you, it's not over.
Eragon thought nothing as he looked at the membrane of her wing. The second part of her treatment was about to start, and he would think about it. Probably more than he would like to.
"That not horse!"
The gruff voice made Eragon's body shiver furiously. Jolts of pain surged through his leg like wired brambles.
"Ghhhh."
Saphira's licking session did not help as much as Eragon would have liked. Dragon saliva might have had all the properties that Saphira listed, but it lacked the potency of a specialized mixture. Eragon's mind flickered inadvertedly towards Angela, but the strange herbalist was no longer his main concern.
Eragon felt his body squeezed closer to Saphira's warm belly.
I'll rend their pitiful flesh if they come any closer. Saphira then roared a fierce warning.
You can't do that, Eragon cringed, his sensitive ears ringing painfully. Can't hurt them until they speak, and please no more roars.
"I'd trade me mead for tha' horse."
"Ye stupid? Horse be pretty, but mead tastes prettier."
"Ye head too drunk. Tha' horse be beautiful than me wife."
"It not a horse, ye basterds. It a gem beast. 'an't ye see the gems it has because yer taa drunk."
"It because too far!"
They won't comment until they drop dead, Eragon noted mentally, watching and hoping the senseless debate of the dwarf group.
They won't hurt you, Saphira said.
Eragon rubbed her snout with a long motion of his hand. I don't think they can with only their mugs. However, he said, lifting the wing membrane draped on top of his head, I would like to see them.
"Dere be tha basterd from tha camp!" Shouted one dwarf, pointing a large finger at Eragon.
"He left when I filled ye mugs with mead."
"That bad. I wanta axe 'im a lil' bit."
"Can't a now. Horse with wings defending him."
"She's a dragon," Eragon snarled, his voice filled with irritation.
"Dragon, aye," nodded the short bearded dwarf Eragon knew from earlier. Or…maybe not. His face bled to a red so deep that resembled Eragon's former blade, Zar'roc.
"Did ye say she?"
Eragon eyed the other two dwarves. They separated from their group and looked and pointed at Saphira, all while making various notes and compliments.
"Yes," Eragon answered abruptly. He turned his head, but the dwarf he spoke with was no longer in the same place.
Eragon's eyes darted in another direction, but the results were the same.
"It female."
"How day a know?"
"Ye can see her mine shaft andar da tail."
Eragon blushed slightly, knowing what the dwarves were referring to. Saphira, on the other hand, did not even seem bothered. With her large head resting on her paws, she stared carelessly into the distance.
"Been a while since I explored a mine."
"Fault of yer wife?"
"Ya, 'an some othas."
"An matter. 'an't explore this one."
"An' why ye sayin'?"
A thumping sound was heard, like something heavy just dropped on the ground. A typical dwarven curse followed shortly after. Whatever the dwarves talked about, it involved more than just words.
"It too dangerous, basterd. Hard slopes, narrow tunnels, rock ta soft ta climb…
Eragon tried to crawl away, but Saphira placed her horned head in front of him
Don't leave my side, little one, she growled softly.
But the dwarves… Eragon stopped. For some reason, it was improper to tell her that the dwarves were staring at her reproduction area.
…they are fascinated by you, Eragon continued, regaining his wits.
The feeling is not returned, Saphira pushed her snout beside Eragon, eyeing him with a large sapphire eye. Two legs are hardly worth looking at.
Eragon let her comment pass. She's thinking about a mate again, he told to himself. After so many days, the longing in her eyes was no longer unusual to him, but its intensity was slightly frightening. Sometimes, it became a carving more than a wish.
Suddenly, Eragon heard something drop. Something of considerable weight.
I want to see what they are doing.
Saphira quickly pushed the ground, her muscular legs lifting her bulk.
As expected, the three dwarves lay behind, no doubt in a position that allowed a good view of Saphira's rear. The stupid smirk did not leave their faces and their mugs and clothing were still there. All was like before… except an axe and a pair of dark leather leggings that littered the ground beneath the dwarf's feet.
That was not expected.
Brisingr was drawn with a short hiss. "What were you doing?"
"Me leg cover fall. Happens when ye least expect," the dwarf laughed.
"Cheap leggings always fall. Wife's fault?" Another one asked.
"Ya. Because of wife. And horse."
"Put them back on if you don't want to lose what's exposed," Eragon barked, blade pointed at the dwarf's lower part.
The dwarf let out a gasp, and his companions scattered.
"What de ya mean?" he asked angrily. "Got nothin' fo' thieves."
"Ye an't a threat to me, boy. Ye legs can't hold ye."
"Brisingr," Eragon whispered.
The dwarf drew back when the blade exploded with azure flames.
"Only the information you possess is valuable. The rest can be discarded with more ease than cutting flesh," Eragon sneered.
Such threat sounded absurd even to him, but he had to appear imposing in order to obtain what he needed.
"Ye an't kill me, boy," the dwarf stubbornly spat. " Lads like ye an't even good in da mines."
"I killed with this sword," Eragon pressed his words. "Believe me."
The dwarf laughed. "Believe ye? What basterd paints his sword like sky?"
Saphira suddenly appeared beside Eragon, snarling ferociously. The dwarf's courage quickly mellowed. Eragon couldn't blame him. Those fangs and that hissing sound scared him several times as well.
"What da ye want?" he asked, eyes stuck on Saphira.
"The Tome of Theldurin the Oracle," Eragon leaned on Saphira's foreleg. "Tell me where it is."
"I won't bargain for me life, but for someti' more solid."
Eragon raised an eyebrow. For someone who trembled to his very core, the dwarf was definitely bold.
"Teeth and claws I want," he said. "Nothin' more."
Eragon fell on his back when the surface he leaned on disappeared. The displacement of his body urt, but he was more worried about Saphira. It was peculiar that she backed down instead of snarling in defiance, like she usually did.
Then, across the Rider bond, he felt it. Fear and reluctance of something that could not be avoided.
She was considering the offer.
NO! I won't turn to these ridiculous demands, Eragon quickly reassured her.
He turned towards the dwarf. "I'd rather pull out your teeth and nails than do it to Saphira. You would have what you want and they will be from you as well, to carry around as you please." The soft voice latched with poison empathized his intentions better than rage could. It was dark..too sinister for one of Eragon's age.
"Gems be," the dwarf retreated a step. "Gems be it then. She has many, too many miss a few."
Bargain with him, Eragon, Saphira's mental voice suddenly rang inside Eragon's head. Our journey and what we seek are of greater value than few of my scales.
No, no I won't—
He did not demand them from you, Saphira snarled. Say nothing except a yes to the drunk two-legs.
Eragon had no choice and agreed with the demands.
The dwarf was not only greedy, but picky as well. He also demanded the payment first.
After the terms were made clear, the dwarf instructed Eragon with the same authority as Nasuada. He pointed here, there, up and down, telling Eragon where to do, what to do and how to do.
Eragon seethed with each snap of Saphira's scales. By the time he was done, he thought of only one thing: to kill the dwarf, and do it fast.
Saphira growled when a large scale was violently plucked, leaving a bloody wound behind. The scale that previously covered her skin was now laying in the dwarf's clutch.
"Yer enough of 'em," the dwarf said approvingly.
Eragon looked with disgust at the sapphire mound that formed at the feet of this vile creature.
"Your tongue should be unhindered, then. Speak," Eragon commanded.
The dwarf kneeled and picked the scales one by one, depositing them in any available space—mug included.
"What ye think ye know been blown by Guntera's breath. Can't remember when it happen, but king changed."
Eragon frowned, and the dwarf continued.
"A nobody dat not many dwarves know became new king, by Guntera's will. He appear before mine people and make king new king because old king make mistakes."
"Ta be simple, because I an't know many, new king united clans. All dwarves now one clan and named Mountain Clans."
Eragon's teeth hurt under the pressure of his jaws. The story seemed too blund and unlikely as dwarves were not quick with decisions by any means.
Saphira seemed to agree with him as she snorted defiantly. The dwarves would not have disposed of Orik that easily. He is one of the most honorable two-legs I met.
Not to mention that he cares about his people by joining the Varden and helping their efforts, Eragon added.
"What of Orik?" Eragon asked quickly.
The dwarf placed another scale in the hollow of his tunic and looked at Eragon.
"Dan' know. Others care for kings, but not me," he smiled weakly and raised his mug. "Me mead and stones are me only concern."
"And the library? Is there any…"
"Nay. Mountain clans tolerate strangers no more. If yer life is of value, ye an't goin' 'ere."
Eragon sighed and lowered himself on the ground. He was thrown a quick look by the dwarf who quickly grabbed the rest of the scales in the embrace of his burly hands. He then turned around.
He was leaving.
Eragon sighed, warm vapors rolling out of his mouthMaybe it didn't worth what I expected.
He then threw the sword dowards the departing dwarf and whispered the name.
"Brisingr."
Eragon wrinkled his nose when the scent of searing flesh reached him. It all happened in complete silence. No screams, no pain, no reaction.
A short growl disturbed the eerie silence.
Why did you do it?
I'll explain at a later time.
As Saphira took the lead, Eragon stared at the crimson rivulets that added stripes to her azure hide,
Does anything I do require an explanation?