Chapter 68: The Gift of Knowledge
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alkaven5 wrote in Antishurtugal, 2013-03-15 21:13:00
MOOD: accomplished
Chapter 68: The Gift of Knowledge
A few notes: first of all, I'm sorry this took so long. That's because it's a lot (more on that in a sec,) and I've had mono, which means a lot of make-up work for school and not much energy or motivation to do it with. I'd like to thank
Second, it's long. Well... deal with it. I'm way too long-winded for many people, but most of you got through the bricks (albeit not without complaint) so maybe this will fly. If it's really too much, tell me and I'll edit it down; right now, I'm tired, and I don't have the energy, and I'm scared that if I wait to post it will molder in my computer for another week.
Third, formatting: I'm fond of footnotes and LJ isn't. They are, therefore, marked by (^1). When I use (1) instead, I'm numbering swordfighting goofs.
The chapter begins thus: “Eyes locked, Eragon and Murtagh slowly circled each other, trying to anticipate how the other would move.” It then goes on to describe Murtagh: fit, tired, armored.
Paolini tends to describe too much and at the wrong times, but that’s not the case here. This is a good place to slow everything down. As every fencer knows, there’s a moment at the beginning of every bout when—no matter how well you know your opponent—you study him carefully, searching for strengths, weaknesses and idiosyncrasies and testing his reactions and defenses. In sabre, the fastest weapon, this moment lasts about a second; in epee, which is most like traditional dueling, it might last as much as twenty. Epee is the most realistic weapon(^1). It’s also the slowest. It’s dangerous, so you have to be careful.
So for once, Paolini is in the right place at the right time, but he’s still doing it wrong. The story is told in Eragon’s point of view. We live through his experiences alone; we see what he sees(^2). So if Eragon’s eyes are locked on Murtagh’s, how would he notice what Murtagh looks like? He should be trying to see what Murtagh looks like, so he shouldn’t be having a staring contest. It’s a really bad idea. Both before and in the fight, eyes are useless. That’s why fencers don’t worry about wearing dark masks; it makes you safe without sacrificing your opponent’s visibility.
And as for what he describes, it’s very distant and impersonal. The problem with description in a tense moment is that it slows down the scene. To avoid releasing tension as well, Paolini should have involved Eragon’s thoughts and emotions. Why do we care if Murtagh’s tired? Because it means he might a) make a critical mistake or b) have bad endurance. Why do we care what armor he’s wearing? Because then we know where his weak spots are. By the way, he’s wearing a mail hauberk (jacket), gauntlets (long gloves), bracers (wrist/forearm protection)(^3), and greaves (lower legs). He also has a long shield. So I’ll say what Paolini should have: that leaves as unarmored targets his feet, upper legs, and head. Head? What the hell? He should at least be wearing a helm.
But, apparently, he isn’t. Moving on.
They keep circling and approaching each other, and when his back is to Galbatorix, Murtagh says quietly, “What are you doing?”
“Buying time,” Eragon muttered, keeping his lips as still as possible.
Given that both Galbatorix and Shurikan are watching, and both of them have freakishly awesome senses, I find it extremely hard to believe that they didn’t notice—especially since the conversation continues.
Murtagh scowled. “You’re a fool. He’ll watch us cut each other to shreds, and what will it change? Nothing.”
Instead of answering, Eragon shifted his weight forward and twitched his sword arm, causing Murtagh to flinch in response.
Personally, I want to know how he flinched, and Eragon should be interested too. After all, this is the guy he’ll be fighting. But perhaps more importantly, I should asking why Eragon wouldn’t answer. Didn’t he just say he’s buying time? He should keep buying it. Typically in a bout, once you start feinting, things get serious pretty fast.
“Blast you,” growled Murtagh. “If you had waited just one more day, I could have freed Nasuada.”
That surprised Eragon. “Why should I believe you?”
What the hell, Eragon? To be fair, I’m not sure exactly whose side he thought Murtagh was on-—it seems pretty obvious Murtagh didn’t like Galbatorix but I don’t think Eragon realized this-—but his reaction should be completely different. Did Eragon flinch? Freeze? Do a double-take? Instantly retort, or take a minute to mull it over? No-—he was surprised. That’s it.
Let’s not forget Galbatorix is supposedly unaware of this interaction.
Anyway, Murtagh uses some Galbatorix-approved banter to distract Eragon, then lunges at his gut. Eragon “barely” parries the blow and then “[replies] with a looping, overhead blow.”
Upon much reflection, this is acceptable, both in the sense of sword-fighting and story. Eragon is caught off guard because he is distracted, which as we know is one of his greatest weaknesses. He barely parries the blow. Parries usually give you the advantage, but only if they’re solid. If he barely parried it, he probably wouldn’t have the composure to riposte. Now, Murtagh should have pressed the attack, but he’s internally torn; he doesn’t know if he wants to hurt Eragon. So it’s forgivable that he didn’t.
Now I start to have problems:
1) A looping, overhead blow is a stupid, stupid move. It’s only ever done as a feint, which, again, means that it’s stupid, because feints are supposed to be unexpected(^4). Because it’s so slow, it allows Murtagh to block. If he prefers, he could also counter quickly, because Eragon's swing will be slower than a lunge. (In fencing, this is called a stop-hit, and it's risky. But here Eragon is asking for it.)
2) But Murtagh didn’t block. Like I said, a parry gives you the advantage: you have control, your opponent is thrown off, and his target area is open for stabbing. Instead, Murtagh jumps back. This time, I’m not going to give him the “internally torn” excuse. His safety was at stake.
From their exchange, it was obvious that Murtagh was still as fast and as strong as Eragon—or an elf. Galbatorix’s prohibition on the use of magic apparently did not extend to the spells that fortified Murtagh’s limbs.
Good. Eragon’s finally putting his observations into context.
For selfish reasons, Eragon disliked the king’s edict, but he could understand the rationale behind it; the fight would hardly have been fair otherwise.
But Eragon did not want a fair fight. He wanted to control the course of the duel so that he could decide when it should end, and how. Unfortunately, Eragon doubted that he would have the opportunity, given Murtagh’s skill with a blade, and even if he did, he was not sure how he could use the fight to strike against Galbatorix. Nor did he have time to think about it, though he trusted that Saphira, Arya, and the dragons would try to devise a solution for him.
For selfish reasons? That’s way too harsh a qualifier. Of course Eragon wants an advantage! Maybe that’s selfish, but only in the sense that wanting to survive at the expense of your enemy is selfish.
Let’s go further: Eragon doesn’t want a fair fight. Well, of course he doesn’t, but there could be a purpose to pointing it out. Eragon insulted Galbatorix’s honor in challenging him, but here we see that Eragon’s own honor isn’t steadfast. In the hands of a better author, I would believe this. But Paolini doesn’t seem to be going in that direction, because then he goes on to emotionlessly reiterate that Eragon is buying time, hoping that the others can devise a solution.
Did I say emotionless? I’ll say it again. So. Fucking. Emotionless. Apathetic, flat boring. This would be unacceptable anywhere in the series, but in the climax? Please.
Murtagh feinted with his left shoulder, and Eragon ducked behind his shield. An instant later, he realized that it had been a ruse and that Murtagh was moving around toward his right in an attempt to get past his guard.
Don’t tell us he’s feinting until he completes the move! It destroys any suspense in the act! Feinting is cool because it’s unexpected. So let it be unexpected! And correct me if I’m wrong, but isn’t Murtagh right-handed? How, then, can he feint with his left shoulder? Theoretically he could have feinted a shift to the left, rather than a thrust, but then there’s no reason for Eragon to duck.
3) By the way, there’s no reason for Eragon to duck anyway. Once again: parrying gives him an advantage. It turns defense into offense. If he has time (and he had time to duck, at least) he should parry rather than use his shield. His shield should be used for balance, armor, last-minute defense, and occasionally as a weapon. Furthermore, the shield used in a duel should not be big enough to duck behind. (^5)
Eragon twisted and saw Zar’roc arcing toward his neck, the edge a glittering, wire-thin line. He knocked it aside with a clumsy push of Brisingr’s crossguard.
It seems that every time there’s something I like, it’s directly followed by something I don’t. I love the attention to detail here, because this is exactly when Eragon would notice that kind of thing. But if he does get one of those glorious adrenaline-fueled perfect synchrony moments (the kind where he notices things like the glittering edge of a blade) he should be able to pull it together enough to parry well.
Anyway, it continues: the fighting, which is hit and miss (sorry) and worse, the emotional arcs, which are just plain miss. I suppose Paolini might have been going for a kind of cool, focused, analytical mood here, but for me, he failed. He just seems entirely uninterested. He’s describing things, but they’re the wrong things, and he’s not quite sure what they’re doing there, and he’s describing them inaccurately anyway. He’s narrating the fight like a soccer announcer at a football game.
I’m trying to make this shorter, I promise, so I’ll just point out the egregious stuff:
Three more times Eragon stabbed, but Murtagh stopped each blow, and when Eragon drew back his arm to strike again, Murtagh countered with a backhanded cut at his knee, which would have crippled him had it landed.
That sentence is just Writing 101 bad. It’s unclear. Did this exact exchange happen each other the three more times Eragon stabbed? Well, of course not. (That would be an elementary mistake—each time a move doesn’t work, you’re supposed to modify it until it does, or your opponent will do that himself and kill you.) What Paolini probably, hopefully means is that once Eragon was done with his “three more” stabs, he drew back his arm and Murtagh went for his knee.
4) Here’s what happened: Murtagh used a backhanded cut, presumably with his right hand, so his sword arced clockwise and slashed at Eragon’s left knee. To do this, he would have to lunge or bend over, leaving his back, neck and/or flank exposed, so he would have his buckler ready to counter any blow coming from that direction. However, he’s not holding a buckler—he’s holding a ridiculously inappropriate melee shield. So his balance is off.
Now here’s what should have happened next: Eragon pivots on his right foot so that his left leg is clear of Murtagh’s blow, while bringing his buckler down just to be safe. Meanwhile, he brings his sword to Murtagh’s left flank. He might want to feint to throw Murtagh further off-balance, or he might conserve his momentum and plow through. If he’s lucky, he’ll avoid the shield; if not, he’ll send Murtagh reeling and have a chance to strike.
So what actually happened? Eragon parried, which is good, but he lost that advantage immediately. It’s decent. But it’s not something I would expect of a “master.” And nothing is accomplished, no lessons are learned, no one is injured, so the exchange might as well not have happened at all (which would never be in a fight with masters) or, at least, we could have been spared.
The fighting continues in much the same awful, emotionless way as before. At some point, Murtagh lowers his sword and turns toward Galbatorix, like he’s about to speak.
And then something amazing happens: it gets good. For two glorious paragraphs, the characters are smart, the tension is apparent, the pacing is good, and the moves make sense. It’s funny, because this could almost be a writing device—Paolini is surprising me with this unexpected talent in much the same way as Murtagh is surprising Eragon with his vigor and creativity.
Eragon loses this exchange, by the way, and just as Murtagh whips his sword at Eragon’s neck, Galbatorix stopped him. This means that a) Eragon is a dumbass, but we knew that; b) Murtagh seems perfectly comfortable with killing Eragon at this point; c) Galbatorix apparently has the superpower of talking really, really fast and d) Galbatorix just saved Eragon’s life. Yep. The antagonist. By the way, Galbatorix dies here, whereas Murtagh is pardoned. And who tried to kill Eragon? Murtagh.
Eragon notices at least b), though, and he is shocked (good)—Murtagh is “playing the game differently than he ought to be.” Well, how ought he play this game, Eragon? What the fuck do you actually think about Murtagh’s alliegiances? Why don’t you chew him out for this later, or find out his reasoning? There never is a purpose to Murtagh’s sudden decision to kill, making this pointless drama. Paolini, if you think your fight scene is getting long, then make it shorter. Don’t try to make it more dramatic than it naturally is. The buildup to a fight, the stakes, should generally be established before.
Yes, you want to make it seem like Eragon might die. You know how you could have done that? By not making Galbatorix do his best to keep both alive.
Then Paolini starts summarizing, which makes me cringe. I personally feel that if you have to summarize a duel—especially a pivotal, climactic duel—it has gone on too long.
People get injured, people are in pain. There’s some blood, making footing difficult, which isn’t quite realistic, as small amounts of blood dry quickly and large amounts of blood mean that people are dead. Eragon breaks Murtagh’s shield but (5) doesn’t take advantage of his… advantage. Then,
Murtagh grasped Zar’roc with both hands and struck at Eragon’s own shield twice in quick succession, and it split as well, leaving them equally matched once again
6) Why on Earth would he do that? Yes, he’s wearing gloves, but Eragon has a goddamn sword. Furthermore, he certainly doesn’t have enough momentum to crack Eragon’s shield (although he does.)
And did he just drop his own sword to execute this dramatic move?
Eragon thinks back to what Glaedr told him: “you must learn to see what you are looking at” and “the way of the warrior is the way of knowing.”
Yes! That’s what I’ve been telling you! In, you know, somewhat cruder but more sensible terms.
What does Eragon see? Not that, say, Murtagh has a slight limp in his left leg, leaving him vulnerable to flanking, or that his sword arm is already injured and a good whack might make him drop the sword (again, apparently.) He sees into Murtagh’s soul and realizes that Murtagh is in love with Nasuada and would do anything in the world to keep her alive, even kill Eragon, which would help somehow.
Actually, he doesn’t realize this. Even though Murtagh pretty much said exactly that earlier. But he does realize that Murtagh is desperate and that the only way for Eragon to win is to… lose. “But not entirely.”
If this plan is supposed to be mysterious, then don’t spend three paragraphs on it. If it’s supposed to make sense, then actually tell us what the fuck it means.
Eragon sidled to Murtagh’s right, while at the same time allowing his sword arm to drift [slightly] away from the side of his body, as if through exhaustion or carelessness.
See how easy it is to clean up your writing?
He didn’t see, apparently, because he keeps rambling on and Oh my God your characters are in the middle of a duel, hurry up and write or they will die.
So, er, that was it. The dramatic, obscure “lose, but not entirely” build-up essentially meant that Eragon would feint, intentionally receive a minor wound, and in exchange hit Murtagh really, really hard. Eragon won, by the way. Do you care? At this point, I sure as hell don’t.
Murtagh takes his defeat very personally, because if he had won, he might have won Galbatorix’s favor and freed Nasuada. (I don’t think that would have happened.) Then they have some deep conversation about Eragon’s willingness to sacrifice himself for victory, and the fact that Murtagh used to not be that way, but is now, because he has Thorn now and knows the meaning of love.
It’s actually good character development. I do wish they hadn’t shoved it in our faces.
By the way, “you tricked me”?
7) That, sweetie, is how sword-fighting works. When done intelligently, it is a mind game. You don’t announce what you’re about to do, you do it subtly and hope to trick your opponent. In fact, Murtagh, you yourself used a trick in this very same duel.
Galbatorix grows uneasy with their conversation, possibly because it’s almost friendly. It would make sense, except that Galbatorix should be happy about this because he fully intends to induct Eragon’s entire party into slavery. In fact, the very next thing he says is “Now the time has arrived for our guests to bend their knees and give to me their oaths of fealty.… Come closer, the both of you, and I shall heal your wounds.”
“The both of you” always seemed like a very American thing to say. It just sounds silly. But maybe I’m wrong.
Then Murtagh secretly signals to Eragon, who understandably is not sure what’s going on. But again, how are they doing this secret signal stuff? Galbatorix is right there.
Murtagh suddenly disobeys Galbatorix, uses the Word, and apparently extracts spirits from Galbatorix’s will; it seems Galbatorix was a sorcerer on top of everything else. At the same time, Thorn spins around “as fast as a cat whose tail has been stepped on” and attacks Shurikan, which is silly, because Shurikan could basically swallow him.
But more importantly, why? Why is Paolini so determined to interject his supposedly tense action scenes with silly, fluffy metaphors?
The two children scream, which fits the scene, even though they shouldn’t be there.
Everyone else also jumps into action, but too late; Galbatorix regains control. This is decently done. There’s a fair bit of tension, but the cat metaphor killed it a little bit. They all attack again, this time aiming at Galbatorix’s mind.
“Then the dragons under Galbatorix’s command, the mad, howling, grief-stricken dragons, attacked Eragon’s mind…”
I really do like the description of the dragons. It makes them seem quite wild and torrential and powerful. It’s nice. Good job! This is, I believe, the second time I’ve unequivocally liked something in this chapter. The first was those brief few passages of good sword-fighting. Both of these good points, by the way, happen when Eragon is losing.
But wait, there’s more! Galbatorix gets angry. He’s unsettled, but he’s still powerful, and he’s furious. His pride gets in the way, but not in a silly “let me tell you my master plan” kind of way; in a legitimately scary way. Galbatorix is attacking; he even lets the dragons attack everyone else and tries to break Eragon’s mind himself. And he’s doing a very, very good job. Technically speaking, he is wasting time (he could just kill them at this point) but it’s tense nevertheless, and we can see that he still hopes to make them his slaves.
Eragon realizes that Galbatorix is very good at this because it gives him “a perverse pleasure” and not because, oh, he’s been doing it for a hundred years.
Then Eragon realizes that he has lost, and it stops being good. Why? Because, for once, Paolini hasn’t rubbed this in our face enough. Eragon is losing this mind fight, yes, but he hasn’t been utterly destroyed, he hasn’t been rendered helpless (as we shall see) and he’s been in similarly desperate situations before—the prose, at least, treats them with the exact same amount of drama—so his sudden despair doesn’t seem real or important. Screw you, Eragon. It seems you’re interesting when you’re losing, but you sure as hell aren’t when you’ve lost.
In his desperation, Eragon tries one last thing: he knows he can’t win, but he’s going to make Galbatorix understand the pain he’s caused. As an emotional arc, I grant that this works. He’s given up, but he still has some fight, and he wants to leave a mark before he is forced to submit.
However, it still has gaping problems:
1) This doesn’t seem quite possible because the rules of mind-fights haven’t been established concretely and consistently enough.
2) Galbatorix’s actions don’t seem that bad, at least in comparison to the Varden, and the most Eragon has is mild PTSD, flaky veganism and very occasional guilt trips, which he immediately felt better about when Saphira told him it was okay.
3) In a hundred years of dealing directly in the minds of dragons whose Riders have just died and who are experiencing unimaginable pain, Galbatorix has apparently never felt sad or guilty, never understood the scope of his actions, and never steeled himself or found ways to cope with the guilt and pain. What, is coping only for good guys?
To me, the third is biggest issue. It just doesn’t seem realistic for Eragon to make Galbatorix feel this bad. For all that losing your Rider has been worked up to be, you would think that Galbatorix would have dealt with worse anger and grief than Eragon’s. Hell, his own story is tragic: shouldn’t he be steeled to this by now?
But it works, and then Galbatorix has a far too dramatic and tedious Zelda-boss-like thrashy death, although he isn’t dead yet, and Eragon recovers far too quickly, and Eragon and Galbatorix duel for a bit, which should be unnecessary but I suppose Paolini felt obligated to include it at some point (how about earlier, instead of the Murtagh fiasco?) and Eragon wins and stabs Galbatorix in the stomach (^6) and Galbatorix is shocked, but in the end it doesn’t matter because he’s more preoccupied with the voice in his head, which make him feel bad, and then he magically kills himself and goes nuclear.
It was, in short (^7), a very messy sequence of events.
^1 Modern fencing comprises of three weapons: foil, saber, and epee. In foil, the target is your torso, and you hit with the point of the sword. It’s derived from the practice bouts knights and gentlemen would take part in, which encouraged strikes to the chest rather than to the arms. Epee is modeled after “real” bouts, that is, genuine, arbitrated fights done to resolve conflict. The entire body (except for the underside of your foot) is your target. Now, that’s all logistics: in practice, this means that foil bouts have a much faster pace than epee bouts, because in epee, the risk of being hit is greater, and you have to be much more cautious. This is how Eragon and Murtagh should be fighting. (I’m not going to talk about saber because, as much fun as it is, it’s quite the cuckoo of fencing.)
^2 Paolini himself said that the narration is limited to the POV character throughout the series with only one exception: when Eragon is first described in Eragon. This means that we can assume that all other omniscient narration is a mistake. Yay!
^3 In real fighting, greavers are actually only used by archers to protect the forearm from the bowstring. Swordsmen used a variety of armor on their arms, most of which were components of plate armor. Eragon and Murtagh were both ready to duel, not fight melee, so wearing plate armor would be stupid, but if they were, they would be using vambraces, not greavers.
Now, this isn’t exactly common knowledge, but nor is it a secret, either—I found the information on Wikipedia. So how did Paolini confuse the two? Probably because most RPGs don’t differentiate. Torylltales pointed out that Paolini seems to have learned most of combat from RPGs, and I must say, I think I agree.
^4 I’m generalizing. Here’s me not generalizing: high blows are often used with multiple feints or with intent to disengage (avoid the parry.) They’re also used in the middle of combat, rather than as initiation, to hit high, but I don’t know as much about that stuff because it’s saber stuff. All of these imply that you’re in a duel and fast with your blade (either it’s thin or you have super schmagical strength.) In melee combat, this is exactly the kind of blow you would want, because it has all the power to cleave the kind of heavy armor people wear to melee, but not to duels. See footnote five.
^5 There is a massive difference between duel fighting and melee combat. Fighting a battle isn’t just fighting lots of little duels; Paolini does realize this, but not nearly as well as he should. For example, this means that completely different kinds of armor are used. In melee fighting, especially from horseback (or dragonback,) it’s completely excusable to wear plate armor. In a duel, you want to sacrifice this type of armor to increase your mobility. Swords are designed likewise. Thick swords are made to chop through armor, but they’re heavy. Thin swords (think three musketeers) are designed for dueling, because there’s less armor to fight through. The Greeks and Romans tended to use hybrid swords: very short, but hefty. And, finally, shields. In melee combat, it’s important to have a large shield which will protect you as much as possible from stray blows, from arrow and crossbow fire, and from debris. They’re also useful in shield-walls. When dueling, you don’t need nearly as much surface area. Duelers used bucklers, which are round and small. You don’t duck behind a buckler; you raise it to shield yourself.
I also want to emphasize that Eragon has never been trained in any of this. Not just in fighting with a buckler (he dueled with sword only in training,) but more importantly in melee combat, plain and simple. He walked onto the battlefield and started slashing. I mean, it was basically a riot. Same with Roran. Never, not once, is anyone so much as given a rule of thumb as to melee fighting.
^6 When typing that, I accidentally said Murtagh instead of Galbatorix. Freudian slip, I suppose—Eragon stabbed Murtagh in the exact same way. Which would have been neat parallelism except that this happened about five pages ago.
^7 In a bit longer: Paolini took way too much space in this chapter. He does that a lot, I know, but that doesn’t make it any better. He certainly knows how to kill the tension in tense scenes.
The best parts (all three of them) were when Eragon was in the process of losing. They seemed bitingly realistic, whereas his victories were either stale, unbelievable, or cliché.
The worst parts: the complete failure of two “masters” swordfighting. It should have been shorter and they should both have been a lot more aware. Also, the unfortunate metaphors and those times when he didn’t let the emotions speak for themselves.
28 comments
[1]
torylltales
March 16 2013, 11:51:05 UTC Edited: March 16 2013, 11:52:31 UTC
I am SO, SO glad we got someone with experience in swordfighting to do this chapter. As much as I do know, my experience is still limited, especially when it comes to duelling. Great spork, thanks for stepping up to fill the gap.
[1A]
alkaven5
March 17 2013, 07:08:38 UTC
Thanks! :D
[1A1]
torylltales
March 17 2013, 09:47:25 UTC
I think the difference is that my training in martial arts has all been geared towards down-and-dirty efficient fighting. And even then, there is a huge difference between duelling sword-and-shield and duelling with two short swords.
Still, you did an excellent job dissecting this chapter.
[2]
Anonymous
March 17 2013, 02:39:58 UTC
For someone about to possible battle his half-brother to the death, he doesn't seem to care, treating Murtagh like some faceless, elite flunky. And that's how the Big Bad dies, ragequiting? Really? You'd think after one hundred years, he would have some control over those dragon spirits but if he did, the story would've ended even more cheaply.
[2A]
alkaven5
March 17 2013, 07:09:14 UTC
To be honest, at this point, I just wasn't surprised. Eragon only feels guilty when Paolini isn't sure how to fill a few pages.
[3]
rhyson
March 17 2013, 03:37:31 UTC
For a guy who likes describing things, Paolini sure doesn't describe a lot. How Murtagh flinched would be very good to know, considering Eragon could have used that for later. And funnily enough, Murtagh is still +ten times better than Eragon.
"Eragon sidled to Murtagh’s right, while at the same time allowing his sword arm to drift" - That's not even a slight motion. That's a pretty obvious movement, it seems to me.
"essentially meant that Eragon would feint, intentionally receive a minor wound, and in exchange hit Murtagh really, really hard." - Huh. Interestingly enough, I made my characters do the same thing, except in mine, the wound was serious and the plan was to cripple the other guy so the backup could take him out.
“The both of you” - It does seem to be American. I think it's also a parental thing to say. "Stop hitting! The both of you!"
“as fast as a cat whose tail has been stepped on" - I don't think Paolini interacts with his cats enough. Cats don't turn around when you step on their tail. They squawk and run. (Sorry about that, kitty. My bad.)
"which he immediately felt better about when Saphira told him it was okay." - It occurred to me that Saphira isn't the best judge of what's okay. She's okay with eating humans, afterall. I don't think Paolini noticed that....
Awesome spork. I'm very impressed at the level of insight. (And better educated for my own novel.) I couldn't have sporked this better myself. Thanks for doing this.
Sidenote: in Elder Scrolls, greaves is the name used for the armour that covers from the waist to the knees. Boots are for the feet and shins. Likely inaccurate, but it could be the source of Paolini's "research." It also could explain Murtagh's lack of pants.
Totally unrelated and random question/thought: in The Hunger Games, if weapons are strictly forbidden, then does anybody wonder how Katniss got so good with a bow and arrow? I know it's off-topic and I do apologize. I'm just curious and too lazy to make an entire new post for it.
[3A]
alkaven5
March 17 2013, 06:44:34 UTC Edited: March 17 2013, 06:48:32 UTC
Thank you!
I would actually much rather that Murtagh were not wearing pants; it would make things more interesting. To be fair, if he were just wearing simple leather or cloth pants, it wouldn't be significant armor, so Paolini might have understandably neglected to mention it. But it's always fun to imagine.
I suppose Eragon could have done the "fork of the legs" thing (remember Brom's story?) It would have been an interesting twist. But aside from that, the hauberk would cover his thigh as well--it's almost like a mail dress.
Yeah, about the "win but lose thing"; it's not, in itself, a bad idea. (In fencing it wouldn't fly because whoever scores first, or whoever has right-of-way, which is essentially control, gets the point.) It's a decent idea, but I think Eragon should have been hurt far worse. What I don't like is the buildup: the "deep" observation, the long reflection, the epic language, all for what is an elaborate feint.
I'm not too impressed by Eragon taking a sword to the stomach to win this thing; after all, he's already sacrificed far worse. So it seemed pretty whatever.
As for Saphira being a shady moral guide--I do believe Paolini realizes this. Eragon is occasionally grossed out by her voracity (but not as much as he should be.) But when she reassures him, he never really makes the connection. I think it's just inconsistent character development.
I pictured him using Dungeons and Dragons, actually, but probably only because I've recently given it a try myself, so it's on my mind. In an already elaborate and complex game like DnD, I'm really not going to pick at the fact that sword characters wear archer armor sometimes, since, hell, that's actually a player error. But maybe he used Elder Scrolls instead (or both, or neither.) Speaking of which: I'm editing the spork to include a picture.
As for Katniss, her father was a good archer, probably having learned from his father; he taught her how to shoot before his death. Their weapons were contraband, but they hid them in the woods. The fence to keep them out of the woods wasn't usually electrified, and even when people saw them coming back with prey, they didn't snitch because it helped feed everyone (she didn't give it out for free, but she had a family to feed too.) Even the law officials would look the other way if they were given sweet deals. I suppose it's comparable to corrupt cops failing to crack down on brothels if they get to be serviced for free.
[3A1]
rhyson
March 19 2013, 03:24:06 UTC
Yeah. Wasted opportunity to use the phrase "fork of the legs" again. Tsk, tsk. Can't believe he still uses that phrase. It's like a sophisticated equivalent of "poopie."
Exactly. Too much buildup and fake philosophy and mysteriousness and implied heroism for a dinky, little scratch. Such a good idea, done so terribly wrong.
Come to think of it, Paolini does write kind of like he knows Saphira is a bit... amoral. But she's a good guy, so she's automatically excused, therefore eating humans a hilarious idea, even if they aren't allowed to do that, and not the least bit terrifying/disturbing.
DnD does sound more like what he's been playing. Elder Scrolls is quite plot heavy and I'm not seeing any "inspirations" showing up in his writing. There's no reincarnate gods invading volcanos and Galbatorix's death hasn't opened any gates into alternate worlds. How plot heavy is DnD?
I still don't get it with hunger games, though. Yes, Katniss learned archery from her dad. Yes, District 13 wouldn't care about a few weapons lying around, but wouldn't the other district worry if 13 appeared to be building an army of angry-but-skilled teenagers? Random chance just happened to pick a crackshot archer? What are the odds? Unless the rest of the population is like that, too. What do the other districts think the general population of 13 is like? What if 13 was sending culls before and this was some sort of plot to test the other districts' reactions and such? Would the other districts not force 13 to tighten up on security or spy on them or do some sort of damage control just in case they're planning another rebellion? Considering the hunger games are supposed to keep the districts under control, you'd think they'd monitor weapon skills at the same time.
It's probably a stupid, little thing in the grand scheme of things, but it's bugging me. Guess it's just the poorly explored consequences that bothers me. Sure, totally missing that would be something I'd do, but that's not a good thing. That's why editors are very important.
[3A1A]
Anonymous
March 19 2013, 22:49:40 UTC
(Sorry for anonymity, I've commented once or twice before as Emmaginary but I'm having computer issues logging in at the moment.)
On the Hunger Games thing, I think the archery wasn't too exceptional of a deal because Katniss wasn't chosen by random chance; she was technically a volunteer. It was mentioned somewhere that some of the other districts had candidates that would train their whole lives in the hopes of being chosen, so Katniss volunteering because of her skill wouldn't really stand out the way it might if it really had been completely random. She volunteered because she could do it (not that I'm a rabid fan defending the Hunger Games or anything; the series does have its share of problems. This just didn't strike me as one).
Awesome spork, by the way! It's great to have this chapter analyzed by someone who actually knows about combat.
[3A1A1]
rhyson
March 20 2013, 00:46:27 UTC
Ah, thank you. That does make more sense, how she'd fly under the radar like that.
[3A1B]
Anonymous
April 22 2013, 13:45:35 UTC
I'm pretty sure that Paolini stole the 'kicked him between the fork of his legs' thing from Tad Williams' Memory, Sorrow and Thorn series, in which the epic duel between Camaris and Prester John ended with Prester John 'kicking Camaris between the fork of his legs' when Camaris had very nearly won the duel.
The thing is that in Memory, Sorrow and Thorn, the 'kicked him in the fork of his legs' is actually the down-and-dirty, cynical truth of how Prester John won the duel of which almost all the bards afterwards sung songs about how awesome and heroic and chivalrous it was. It's been a while since I read the book, but I seem to remember that one of the other characters tells this story to Simon/Seoman (the hero of Memory, Sorrow and Thorn) as a way of stripping him of some of his illusions and getting him to grow up a bit.
However, Paolini simply stole that line from Memory, Sorrow and Thorn without including any of the context that would have made it poignant rather than ridiculous.
[3A1B1]
rhyson
April 22 2013, 16:40:58 UTC
With wording that unique? You're probably right. Wow. The plagiarism tally keeps going up. I'm beginning to suspect every idea, plot, and character who wasn't based off his family was all stolen, down to the last line of dialogue, not simply mostly stolen.
[4]
thelesserhound
March 18 2013, 00:38:55 UTC Edited: March 18 2013, 00:39:20 UTC
Agreed with Torylltales, knowing some of this stuff about dueling is particlarly useful for those of us who write fantasy. Honestly, it surprises me that Paolini has apparently not researched proper sword combat when you consider how much he researches the really obscure, irrelevant parts of his story (as in the forging of Brisingr and Orik's earth ball).
I didn't necessarily mean to kick you out of bed haha. But this is one of my favorite sporks for the information you provided, so 'twas worth the wait.
[4A]
torylltales
March 18 2013, 01:31:51 UTC
Remembering Paolini's demonstration on BBC's Imagine series, I'm only a little surprised that he seems to have learned nothing more in the 4-odd years since his flailing inept swordsmanship was broadcast to the world. It IS rather telling that the interview is now impossible to find...
[4A1]
Anonymous
March 18 2013, 19:24:52 UTC
Never forget...
https://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_detailpage&v=Xhu9wLZOk1o#t=26s
[5]
Anonymous
March 18 2013, 03:29:10 UTC
Please allow me to add my thanks for your insights into dueling! If you wouldn't mind elaborating, what exactly *is* "melee fighting"? Does it have anything to do with the number of people involved, or is it just any fighting apart from dueling?
As for the manner of Galbatorix' death . . . I don't think I like it. "Now you just sit there, Galbatorix, and think--really think--about what you've done!" ("Oh . . . I DID do all that, didn't I! It's suddenly too much to bear!") Are we supposed to assume that if Galbatorix had felt his victims' pain, he would not have been evil? Have we not been led to believe, prior to this, that he makes people suffer precisely because he does understand--and enjoy--their suffering? Correct me if I'm wrong.
I've never thought about the phrase "the both of you" being specifically American, but it could be. Maybe the whole "this town ain't big enough for the both of us" thing?
[5A]
alkaven5
March 20 2013, 01:13:19 UTC
About Galbatorix: I know, right? So much buildup of him as a merciless, cruel, all-powerful bad guy... and then this. He's been there a hundred years, wrestled a thousand grieving dragons into submission, killed and tortured dozens, and what gets him is a single boy's second-hand account of events he was told were sad?
If we try to see if from Paolini's point of view, I can kind of see why: he's spent so much time building him up as unkillable, no one, not even his fans, would be satisfied if he just got stabbed in the heart like Durza and Varaud. (Speaking of which, that was some fairly nice parallelism--shame the characters went right out and talked about it.)
Melee fighting: unfortunately, I don't know that much about it. I know a lot more about dueling (and video game melee fighting, which of course is an entirely different deal.)
Melee fighting, by definition, is close-range fighting between many combatants. Duels are between two people and are almost always decided beforehand, with clear terms and weapons. Battles were also often decided beforehand in the Middle Ages and Renaissance. This was changing during the American Revolution, and the British considered the American guerrilla tactics utterly barbaric. (It's not that the British didn't do it because they couldn't think to; it just wasn't how they operated. This is a big part of how they lost.) However, individual tussles during a larger scale battle weren't nearly as organized as a duel.
None of the characters in the Inheritance Cycle is an archer. (Wait, but they should be! Eragon was a good archer long before he knew jack about the sword!) All of the fighting characters fight in these kinds of close quarters. I have no experience with any of this, but let's think about the motives here: soldiers are trying to kill enemies and to keep themselves and their comrades alive. Everything happens very fast--unlike in a duel, which has long periods of waiting, in melee combat you can't analyze the minutiae of your opponent's psyche because while you do so, someone else might start hacking at you from behind. You sort of go for it. So people will make mistakes, but they will keep pushing, hacking and trying to kill no matter what.
Therefore, if there is one of you versus multiple soldiers, you are essentially dead. While you block one sword or spear, the others knock your weapons away and stab you. Of course, ten men on one guy will just get in each others' way, but that doesn't mean that they will approach one-by-one. I can imagine there's a happy medium somewhere, which probably depends on your skill and everyone else's. But units train together, so they're pretty cohesive. Melee fighting is a team sport.
Under no circumstances will soldiers just sit there while you hack at their buddies. This exchange could never have happened:
"A cluster of five soldiers charged around the corner of a house and nearly ran into Roran. Shouting, they levelled their spears and did their best to skewer him like a roast chicken. He ducked and dodged and, with his own spear, caught one of the men in their throat. The soldier remained on his feet for a minute more, but he could not breathe properly and soon he fell to the ground, tangling the legs of his companions."
I guess you just have to keep in mind that everyone there is trying to live and kill. Also, for outside the battlefield: fighting in close quarters is something you should have practiced, especially if you knew your ultimate goal was a siege. Fighting multiple people with people at your sides is something you should have practiced. Fighting for hours and hours, in armor, in heat and cold and rain, is something you should have practiced. Hell, they should even have tried to simulate this specific situation in one of the cities that they have control over.
That's my biggest problem here: for all the dueling practice we see, we don't see a single instance of melee practice.
[6]
emrlddragon
March 18 2013, 10:34:46 UTC
Actually broad swords are not all that heavy. If you check out most museum specimen that only run about 5 or 6 pounds.
[6A]
alkaven5
March 18 2013, 15:39:21 UTC Edited: March 23 2013, 17:41:47 UTC
I know: there's a common misconception that these things were forty pounds or so, but it's ridiculous.
Five pounds isn't all that heavy a weight if, say, you want to weight-lift. However, in dueling, if you have a five-pound sword and the other guy has a four-pound sword, all other things being equal, he will be much faster than you--and that's all he needs.
There's a tradeoff: if you have a rapier and he has a broadsword, you can avoid his blows for a while (but that's no way to win a match) until he does hit your sword, and then it snaps. The two swords had to be about equal in weight. However, in dueling, there's typically enough time to make an agreement about weapons and armor. Dueling is a fairly formal affair.
But even so: we can pretty safely forget about that, because both Eragon and Murtagh are really, magically strong, so I suppose the weight of their swords doesn't matter. I implied this in footnote 4.
[7]
adder_snake
March 18 2013, 13:32:37 UTC
Great spork! I'm next, right?
[7A]
alkaven5
March 18 2013, 15:40:05 UTC
Unless anyone else objects, yep! Enjoy!
[7A1]
Anonymous
March 23 2013, 12:44:25 UTC
ACtually, I'm supposed to do sea of nettles, but there's a chapter before that, so I guess I'm the chapter after next. But i could do both if you're sick.
[7A1A]
Anonymous
March 23 2013, 12:45:06 UTC
This is adder_snake. It's coming up as anonymous for some reason.
[7A1A1]
alkaven5
March 23 2013, 17:42:25 UTC
Well, given that I'm almost caught up with all my school stuff and I'm feeling a lot better... I'll do it! Sounds fun. Thanks!
[8]
aikaterini
April 21 2013, 16:34:38 UTC
Sorry for the late comment!
/To be fair, I’m not sure exactly whose side he thought Murtagh was on-—it seems pretty obvious Murtagh didn’t like Galbatorix but I don’t think Eragon realized this-/
Because once again, Paolini cannot make up his mind about whether or not Murtagh willingly joined Galbatroix.
/Galbatorix just saved Eragon’s life. Yep. The antagonist. By the way, Galbatorix dies here, whereas Murtagh is pardoned. And who tried to kill Eragon? Murtagh./
So…Murtagh wasn’t under Galbatorix’s mind-control? Or he was, but Galbatorix forgot to turn it off?
/realizes that Murtagh is in love with Nasuada and would do anything in the world to keep her alive, even kill Eragon/
Good grief, really? Paolini shoehorned a random and unconvincing romance into his book just to give Murtagh an excuse to fight Eragon?
/Galbatorix’s actions don’t seem that bad, at least in comparison to the Varden/
And at least in comparison with ERAGON’S. Yes, the kid who coolly slaughters and tortures people is the person to tell the main villain to repent. Hello, there, kettle! You’re looking awfully black today!
/Eragon wins and stabs Galbatorix in the stomach (^6) and Galbatorix is shocked, but in the end it doesn’t matter because he’s more preoccupied with the voice in his head, which make him feel bad, and then he magically kills himself and goes nuclear./
…Wow. How underwhelming.
Come to think of it, isn't Eragon's way of defeating Galbatorix reminiscent of Ghost Rider's way of punishing people? At least in the awful movie version with Nicholas Cage?
[8A]
rhyson
April 22 2013, 16:52:50 UTC
That's the beauty of the internet. You get to join a conversation as late as you want. :)
I don't know if Paolini did shoehorn a romance for that purpose. It takes a lot forsight and planning. I'm thinking he just threw in an extra excuse for the battle. The whole thing reeks of apathy, so I'm guessing he just glanced at what he had to work with, then threw it all in.
Pot calling the kettle black, except the kettle is stainless steel. I'd much rather be in the service of Galbatorix than Eragon. I mean, Galbatorix tortures Nasuada and she giggles the whole time. Eragon tortures Sloan, and his life is ruined for eternity. How bad a guy could Galbatorix be if the worst torture he can think of makes a prisoner laugh? I can't remember right off hand what he did to her, but she walks away just fine.
[9]
Anonymous
August 14 2013, 11:21:07 UTC
Do people realize how utterly hypocritical the spell used to incapacitate Galbatorix was. ALL great historical figures, from King David and Joshua in the Bible, through Alexander the Great and Julius Caesar, to Napoleon Bonaparte and George Patton, all these characters did atrocious things to accomplish what they did. With the exception of those who were psychopaths, the way all these characters could survive was to psychologically detach themselves from both their enemies and their own men, to objectify them if you will. But if someone would compell them to experience all the pain directly or indirectly caused by their actions, an endless compilation of physical, psychological, and emotional pain, EVERY SINGLE ONE would commit suicide like Galbatorix did. Why doesn't someone make Nasuada and Eragon experience the pain of all the soldiers who died or were wounded in the war, of all the fathers, husbands, brothers, and sons that died of their widows, mothers, and children. And they all died for a cause that, regardless of how much they try to rationalize it, was nothing more than revenge.
[10]
kris_norge
September 26 2013, 18:54:42 UTCMy own experience with fighting in general is scanty but to me, strength, speed, stamina, skill, and good reflexes make a good fighter, not a good warrior. What I call a good warrior in my own fantasy work is someone who can outsmart a fighter of equal skill, what I called "playing a game of strategy faster than you swing your sword arm." Am I relatively accurate in this?