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.
|Meat one ~ Fan Fiction ~ Meat three|