Eragon and the Vacuum Cleaner

Author's Note: This is not to be taken seriously in any way. I realize that vacuum cleaners do not exist in Alegasia (though I've heard news that King Orin is making miraculous headway), and I realize that over half of the event that are about to follow are not realistic on any terms. I also accept that I am not a writer by trade, so the quality may not be quite up to par. Yet, this had to be uploaded, as the tale is quite near and dear in my heart. And, naturally, since blame must be shared, I'd like to mention that my dear friend Stella-g1rL is responsible for this as well, and that we were both assisted by a substantial sugar high. Now that the intro is out of the way, please enjoy.

Spoiler Warning: This story contains spoilers for the book Eldest. If you have not read that book, then this shall be very hard to follow.

The following story takes place while Eragon is training in Ellesméra.

. . .

Oromis stepped back with a content sigh, looking over his just-cleaned house with pride equal to that of an Olympic gold-medalist. The entire place, every nook and corner, was absolutely spotless, which was quite a statement, considering his last lesson with Eragon had left the dwelling in near ruin.

The very thought of the incident made him frown, an he silently concluded that any further lessons regarding teleportation were to by conducted in the most barren wasteland he could find. It had taken three elves just to rescue the young rider from Oromis's chimney. No, never in his life would he repeat that ever-so-pleasant experience. Ever.

Another sweep of the sparkling room replenished the smile on his face, and, with one last happy sigh, he tucked his new three-speed reversible vacuum cleaner in the closet and sauntered out of the room, humming.

. . .

The peaceful evening was mangled by drunken laughter as Eragon and Orik stumbled into Oromis's house, babbling nonsense like a couple of bewildered asylum escapees. Oromis looked up at them from his cup of herb tea, then groaned in disdain.

Orik, apparently finding this very amusing, began to giggle. "Yuh-oh. Looks like da ol' elfie's mad at cha', Eragon."

Eragon grinned dumbly. "Hiya Oromis. How'sya doin'? Night's all perty, isn't it?"

Oromis growled under his breath. "It was." He couldn't wait to get his hands on the poor soul that had let those two near alcohol. Clearing his throat, he resumed the conversation. "Eragon, didn't we give you a very nice house to sleep in?"

Eragon's smile held firm. "Yuh-huh."

"So … why aren't you in it?"

"Well, ya'see, uh …" He snorted. "Saphira won't let me, ya'see. She, er …" With that, both rider and dwarf broke into a fit of giggling, which soon escalated to uproarious laughter. It was clear they were going to say nothing more on the subject.

Orik sniffed, then turned to look at Oromis. "You know 'em women."

Oromis sighed, glaring at the two men. "Orik, out. Eragon, downstairs. You can sleep there for the night." He decided he would scold them when they were sober enough to comprehend it, and promptly returned to his tea.

. . .

Eragon sat unceremoniously on the wood floor of the house's lower story. If he weren't to drunk to think straight, he would have been quite familiar with the room, as it was where Oromis conducted most of his lessons. Circumstances what they were, he looked at the room with a hazy sort of curiosity, as if seeing it for the first time, and started staggering around to explore it.

The first discovery he made was the vase in the corner, which he poked until it toppled off the counter and smashed on the floor, spilling its floral contents in a dirty heap. The next was the broom, which he whacked on the floor several times, then abandoned once it didn't result in anything interesting. After the came the big chest in the corner, which he managed to close on his nose.

Finally, he came to the closet, where he made the most fascinating discovery yet. There, behind two rain jackets, a sweater, and an orange umbrella, was Oromis's brand new three speed reversible vacuum cleaner.

Eragon surveyed it cautiously, for his nose was still sore from his encounter with the chest. Tentatively, he flicked one of the switches.

The vacuum rumbled to life, making Eragon jump so high that he hit his head on the door frame. After he got over his initial fright, he took a few careful steps toward the humming appliance, and pressed another button.

Only much later would he realize the significance of the label above the button, on which was printed "reverse".

Dust began to spew from the nozzle, coating the closet in a fine layer of filth. Instantly, one comprehensible thought made its way to Eragon's mind. Oromis was going to kill him for this.

He began searching for a solution, a way to stop the endless stream of dirt rocketing from the vacuum. His drunken mind could, however, find only one, and thus Eragon stuck the nozzle of the vacuum cleaner inside his trousers. The tight pants began to gradually expand as they filled with dust, until eventually the fabric could take no more.

Half of Ellesméra was woken up by the explosion.

. . .

Arya came early the next morning to see how Eragon's training was progressing. She opened Oromis's door to see the cottage in a surprising state of disarray (Oromis was usually so good with keeping his house neat). Lamps had fallen, pieces of once fine vases and fairths lay scattered on the floor, and scrolls littered desks and ground. In one corner stood Eragon, clad in his shirt and his boxer shorts, attempting to clean the cottage with a feather duster and looking extraordinarily unhappy. Bewildered, Arya turned to look at Oromis, who sat hunched over as one of his desks. "What happened?"

The elf Rider shot her a glare capable of melting iron, then replied in a deadly tone, carefully pronouncing each word he spoke. "Eragon's mother made a terrible mistake."