[identity profile] kippurbird.livejournal.com
*whistles innocently*

Orik's Bow (a Meat Story)


Much to Eragon's surprise, Orik had given him meat. In fact he gave meat for the entire camp of dwarves. Everyone got it. Except Arya, because she wouldn't partake in meat. (Except rarely. Eragon hoped that he would be the one to give her that meat. To make her discover the wonders and joy of having meat often.) Orik had used his bow to get the meat. When Eragon had seen Orik's bow, jealously had risen up in him like a one eyed snake. Oh sure, it was thick and tough, but it was small. Though it did look strong, which made Eragon feel inadequate with his bow, which was slim and bendy.

Orik was very proud of his bow and told him all about it, especially the decorations on it, which were fascinating. He had never thought about decorating his bow before. Another reason why he felt lacking with his bow. Vaguely he thought about decorating his bow, wondering what it would feel like with decoration. Would it be better?

He wanted to try Orik's bow. He wanted to handle it. See what it felt like in his hands. Run his fingers across the decorations. Caress the horny length.

But he didn't know how to ask Orik. He was afraid to ask to handle the bow. That he wouldn't be able to handle it correctly.

Then, Orik let him handle it! Offered it to him!

He hefted it carefully. Running his fingers over the decorations, feeling its horniness. It felt amazing, like nothing he had held before.

He then shot off Orik's bow, watching as the arrow flew away. Amazing! He had never managed to shoot off so far. Orik's bow was truly an amazing weapon. He was sad when Orik put it back in it's jeweled case, watching enviously as it was put away.

The next day he watched the sunrise with Ayra and Saphira and something strange happened to him.

Arya had looked at him, with her perfect face and deep emerald orbs that seemed pierce into his soul, peeling him apart like an onion, her raven hair fluttering lightly in the breeze like a loose cloak, and it stirred something deep inside of him.

Something that he had never felt before... except when he was with Saphira. That same sort of connection. The same sort of desires. It frightened him. He never thought he could feel that way about another person... a woman at that.

He was unprepared for such stirrings with in him. Garrow, who had taught him how to use meat, who had taught him so much, never told him about this. Even the few times he had wrestled with Roran or Murtagh, didn't compare to this unknown strange feeling.

It was as if she had touched him somewhere deep inside. Somewhere where he had never been touched before. (Except by Saphira). She knew him. Knew him, his thoughts, his wants and desires. He felt ashamed at such a thought. The idea that this woman could know him better than Roran, better than Garrow, Brom or Murtagh. Better than Orik, better than anyone he had shared meat with.

She was so aloof, with her ideas that he shouldn't eat meat. He scoffed at her, mentally. She didn't know him at all.

No, not like Saphira did.

Or Garrow, Murtagh, Brom, Roran, Orik.

They had shared with him meat. They had been with him, let him touch their weapons. Brought him into themselves, their families.

She never allowed him close. Never allowed him to touch her fine weapons. And she had two very fine weapons. Weapons that he would have liked to have handled. Caressed. Seen what they could do.

No, he would go with her. He would meet this Cripple Who is Whole. He would see these bows made from trees that did not grow, see how they were used and if they could bring the same pleasure of a real bow.

But he would not give up his meat.

No matter what she thought.
[identity profile] kippurbird.livejournal.com
*wanders off into those bad places*



"I shall no longer partake in meat," Eragon said to Saphira as he looked disgustedly at the bared flesh before him. How could he ever think about taking part in meat? Every touching it, enjoying it? It was disgusting.

Saphira craned her neck down to look at Eragon. How can you no longer enjoy meat? Long have you enjoyed it. Long have we shared it. Are you going to deny yourself this pleasure?

"How can I enjoy the pleasure of meat? The smell is disgusting, the touch is wrong and revolts me. The elves were right. It's plants that are the proper things to be consumed."

Plants? You just were crying how disgusted you were with plants. How you didn't find the plants that Oromis forced upon you was as satisfying as meat. It wasn't as filling. And now that you have finally gotten a chance to have meat, you reject it. Perhaps it is your neglect of the meat that has given you this idea.

Eragon shook his head, wondering how he could enpart to Saphira the importance of his decision not to enjoy meat any more. It was a difficult decision for him to make, but now, after expanding his awareness, he realized that it was wrong to partake in the pleasures of the flesh. "I'm sorry, Saphira, I don't know how to make you understand that I just can't do it any more."

She snorted at him, Eating meat is a perfectly natural thing for you to partake in. Every human partakes in meat. You yourself have partaken in meat all your life. You cannot just give it up arbitrarily, it goes against your nature.

"I'm not denying that, but after this, I just can't. Meat is no longer for me. I'll just have to deal with plants."

I shall miss enjoying meat with you, little one.

"And I shall miss it with you."

Meat

Dec. 15th, 2011 02:11 pm
[identity profile] kippurbird.livejournal.com
And now, because I hate you all, some Sloan/Eragon.


Meat

Eragon walked to the butcher's shop and all he could think of was Sloan's meat. He needed Sloan's meat so badly. He hoped that Sloan would give him some meat, since he didn't have any money to pay for it. Well at least he had that large shiny stone. Perhaps that would be enough for Sloan's meat.

He opened the door to the butcher's shop and it was nice and warm. Sloan was standing there with some sausages in his hand. Eragon watched as Sloan handled the meat expertly in his large butcher's hands, wishing that it was his meat that was being handled.

"What do you want, boy?" the butcher asked.

"I need some meat," Eragon said walking up to the counter.

"Weren't you able to find your own meat?"

"No, I wasn't, so I need your meat."

"Do you have money? I don't give my meat away for free," he said holding up his sausages.

Eragon eyed Sloan's meat hungrily. He really needed Sloan's meat. He didn't want it, but he needed it. He had to have it. "No, I don't have any money."

Sloan leaned over the counter and said to him, "Well, I guess you're just not going to get any meat then."

"But I need your meat! I must have it!" Eragon demanded. Why shouldn't Sloan give him his meat?

"No money, no meat," Sloan said with an air of finality.

In despair Eragon pulled out his large stone. "Please, take this for your meat." And he shoved the stone at Sloan. The butcher handled his stone carefully as Eragon watched him hopefully, almost groaning.

"I can give you a little bit of meat for this stone."

"Only a little? But I need so much more than that!"

"I'm sorry but your stone isn't worth that much."

Eragon wailed in despair. He wasn't going to get all the meat that he wanted.

Then Hurst walked into the door and said, "I'll pay for your meat Eragon."

Eragon was so happy then, because now he could get Sloan's meat!
[identity profile] kippurbird.livejournal.com
Some Brom/Eragon with hints of Eragon/Murtagh, because I still hate you all.


Meat, pt. 2

Eragon stood by Brom's tomb and ruminated about how he would never do anything with the old man ever again. The man had been like a father to him and now he was dead. No longer would they share things together. Like meat.

They had shared a lot of meat together on this journey. Ever since Brom had caught him coming out of Sloan's they had meat together. Their first time had been in the cold and snow, a very simple affair. Eragon was almost ashamed of it. But Brom didn't mind.

So they had meat often, every day.

Sometimes it felt like Eragon never wanted meat again, but then he realized he needed it. He needed it to survive and Brom was always willing to share his meat with him.

That was the best part of their journey, the sharing of the meat.

Sometimes they would share with Saphira. That had been an awe inspiring experience, sharing her meat. It had always tasted better, knowing that it had come from her. And when Brom had shown him how to use magic to get his meat... well things were never the same between the two of them.

In fact, Eragon felt that it only made them stronger, closer.

But now Brom was dead. They never had a chance to share their meat again. Just one last drink of wine, a clumsy offering to what they had had before. And now he was alone.

Or was he?

Murtagh had given him soup.

Perhaps the young man would share meat with him too.
[identity profile] kippurbird.livejournal.com
So, you see, work is sucking my soul out. It's a defense mechanism. Really. >.> And it's not because I feel like traumatizing people.


Meat 3

Eragon thought that he might be in love. He may have found the perfect person for him. Someone who would provide for him, take care of him, never leave him. Be that companion that he needed.

Murtagh had -on their very fist meeting- had given him soup. Without him asking for it. He just suggested it as a way to make him feel better. Here he was, injured and worried about Brom's safety and health, wondering if the Raz'ac were going to come back and Murtagh gave him soup.

He never felt so grateful for soup. He never realized how much he needed soup. And Murtagh was very clever with how he made soup.

But giving him soup was not the only thing that Murtagh did for him. He also provided him with meat. Every day. He was just as good as Brom was. But it was nice getting meat with someone his own age.

Eragon enjoyed the meat.

He also liked watching Murtagh practice with his sword. It was much larger than his sword. Eragon didn't think he could handle Murtagh's sword. It was so big. Yes he was content with his sword, but sometimes he was jealous that he couldn't handle his sword as well as Murtagh could. Murtagh was a sword master. Much like Brom had been. But Brom's sword wasn't as big as Murtagh's. He didn't think he'd be able to handle his sword if it was as big as Murtagh's.

One time Murtagh did allow him to handle his sword. It was a large and impressive weapon. Eragon liked the way it felt in his hands. So solid and thick and heavy. Sometimes he dreamed of handling Murtagh's sword.

This is what made Murtagh so wonderful, in Eragon's eyes. The way he gave soup. The meat that he made, and how he handled his sword.

Eragon hoped that Murtagh thought of him as highly as he thought of Murtagh.

Yes, Eragon, decided, he was in love with Murtagh and his sword.

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