英語學習筆記

6月 04 週四 200910:22
AROUND THE CAMPFIRE (p.18)

to you, Eragon, that was never part of our plan. I had no choice,
though. They recognized me. I stabbed the white-haired man un-
derneath his chin... It was like when Father cut the throat of a
pig. And then the other, I smashed open his skull. I can still feel his
bones giving way... I remember every blow I've landed, from the
soldiers in Carvahall to the ones on the Burning Plains... You
know, when I close my eyes, sometimes I can't sleep because the
light from the fire we set in the docks of Teirm is so bright in my
mind. I think I'm going mad then."
　Eragon found his hands gripping the staff with such force, his
knuckles were white and tendons ridged the insides of his wrists.
"Aye," he said. "At first it was just Urgals, then it was men and
Urgals, and now this last battle... I know what we do is right, but
right doesn't mean easy. Because of who we are, the Varden expect
Saphira and me to stand at the front of their army and to slaughter
entire battalions of soldiers. We do. We have." His voice caught,
and he fell silent.
　Turmoil accompanies every great change, said Saphira to both of
them. And we have experienced more than our share, for we are agents
of that very change. I am a dragon, and I do not regret the death of those
who endanger us. Killing the guards in Narda may not be a deed worthy
of celebration, but neither is it one to feel guilty about. You had to do it.
When you must fight, Roran, does not the fierce joy of combat lead wings
to your feet? Do you not know the pleasure of pitting yourself against a
worthy opponent and the satisfaction of seeing the bodies of your enemies
piled before you? Eragon, you have experienced this. Help me explain it
to your cousin.
　Eragon stared at the coals. She had stated a truth that he was re-
luctant to acknowledge, lest by agreeing that on could enjoy vio-
lence, he would become a man he would despise. So he was mute.
Across from him, Roran appeared similarly affected.
　In a softer voice, Saphira said, Do not be angry. I did not intend to
upset you... I forget sometimes that you are still unaccustomed to

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6月 04 週四 200909:46
AROUND THE CAMPFIRE (p.17)

　"It must have fallen," said Eragon, examining the side of the
gulch. He allowed the werelight to fade into oblivion.
　Roran nodded and stood, brushing dirt from his pants.
　As he walked back to Saphira, Eragon considered the speed with
which they had reacted. His heart still contracted into a hard,
painful knot with each beat, his hands shook, and he felt like dash-
ing into the wilderness and running several miles without stopping.
We wouldn't have jumped like that before, he thought. The reason for
their vigilance was no mystery: every one of their fights had chipped
away at their complacency, leaving behind nothing but raw nerves
that twitched at the slightest touch.
　Roran must have been entertaining similar thoughts, for said,
"Do you see them?"
　"Who?"
　"The men you've killed. Do you see them in your dreams?"
　"Sometimes."
　The pulsing glow from the coals lit Roran's face from below,
forming thick shadows above his mouth and across his forehead
and giving his heavy, half-lidded eyes a baleful aspect. He spoke
slowly, as if he found the words difficult. "I never wanted to be a
warrior. I dreamed of blood and glory when I was younger, as every
boy does, but the land was what was important to me. That and our
family... And now I have killed... I have killed and killed, and
you have killed even more." His gaze focused on some distant place
only he could see. "There were these two men in Narda... Did I
tell you this before?"
　He had, but Eragon shook his head and remained silent.
　"They were guards at the main gate... Two of them, you know,
and the man on the right, he had pure white hair. I remember be-
cause he couldn't have been more than twenty-four, twenty-five.
They wore Galbatorix's sigil but spoke as if they were from Narda.
They weren't professional soldiers. They were probably just men
who had decided to help protect their homes from Urgals, pirates,
brigands... We weren't going to lift a finger against them. I swear

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5月 27 週三 200915:02
AROUND THE CAMPFIRE (p.16)

the ashen light that precedes dawn. Saphira had landed in the hol-
low where they were now, and they had slept through most of the
past day before beginning their reconnaissance.
　A fountain of amber motes billowed and swirled as Roran tossed
a branch onto the disintegrating coals. He caught Eragon's look and
shrugged. "Cold," he said.
　Before Eragon could respond, he heard a slithering scraping
sound akin to someone drawing a sword.
　He did not think; he flung himself in the opposite direction,
rolled once, and came up into a crouch, lifting the hawthorn staff to
deflect an oncoming blow. Roran was nearly as fast. He grabbed his
shield from the ground, scrambled back from the log he had been
sitting on, and drew his hammer from his belt, all in the span of a
few seconds.
　They froze, waiting for the attack.
　Eragon's heart pounded and his muscles trembled as he searched
the darkness for the slightest hint of motion.
　I smell nothing, said Saphira.
　When several minutes elapsed without incident, Eragon pushed
his mind out over the surrounding landscape. "No one," he said.
Reaching deep within himself to the place where he could touch
the flow of magic, he uttered the words "Brisingr raudhr!" A pale
red werelight popped into existence several feet in front of him and
remained there, floating at eye level and painting the hollow with a
watery radiance. He moved slightly, and the werelight mimicked his
motion, as if connected to him by an invisible pole.
　Together, he and Roran advanced toward where they'd heard
the sound, down the gulch that wound eastward. They held their
weapons high and paused between each step, ready to defend them-
selves at any moment. About ten yards from their camp, Roran held
up a hand, stopping Eragon, then pointed at a plate of shale that
lay on top of the grass. It appeared conspicuously out of place.
Kneeling, Roran rubbed a smaller fragment of shale across the plate
and created the same steely scrape they and heard before.

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5月 11 週一 200911:52
AROUND THE CAMPFIRE (p.15)

　Afterward, Nasuada had said, "We are trusting your judgment in
this, Eragon, Saphira. For your sake and ours, I hope this expedition
goes well." Her tone left Eragon uncertain whether her words repre-
sented a heartfelt wish or subtle threat.
　Eragon had spent the rest of that day gathering supplies, studying
maps of the Empire with Saphira, and casting what spells he felt
were necessary, such as one to thwart attempts by Galbatorix or his
minions to scry Roran.
　The following morning, Eragon and Roran had climbed onto
Saphira's back, and she had taken flight, rising above the orange
clouds that stifled the Burning Plains and angling northeast. She
flew nonstop until the sun had traversed the dome of the sky and
extinguished itself behind the horizon and then burst forth again
with a glorious conflagration of reds and yellows.
　The first leg of their journey carried them toward the edge of the
Empire, which few people inhabited. There they turned west toward
Dras-Leona and Helgrind. From then on, then traveled at night to
avoid notice by anyone in the many small villages scattered across
the grasslands that lay between then and their destination.
　Eragon and Raran had to swathe themselves in cloaks and furs
and wool mittens and felted hats, for Saphira close to fly higher
than the icebound peaks of most mountains--where the air was
thin and dry and stabbed at their lungs--so that if a farmer tending
a sick calf in the field or a sharp-eyed watchman making his rounds
should happen to look up as she passed overhead, Saphira would ap-
pear no larger than an eagle.
　Everywhere they went, Eragon saw evidence of the war that was
now afoot: camps of soldiers, wagons full of supplies gathered into a
bunch for the might, and lines of men with iron collars being led
from their homes to fight on Galbatorix's behalf. The amount of re-
sources deployed against them was daunting indeed.
　Near the end of the second night, Helgrind had appeared in
the distance: a mass of splintered columns, vague and ominous in

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5月 11 週一 200911:31
AROUND THE CAMPFIRE (p.14)

　The details of Saphira's remarks were complex, but the underly-
ing structure of the presentation was straight forward. Saphira sup-
ported Eragon because she understood how much the proposed
mission meant to him, while Eragon supported Roran because of
love and family, and because the knew Roran would pursue Katrina
with or without him, and his cousin would never be able to defeat
the Ra'zac by himself. Also, so long as the Empire held Katrina cap-
tive, Roran--and through him, Eragon--was vulnerable to manip-
ulation by Galbatorix. If the usurper threatened to kill Katrina,
Roran would have no choice but to submit to his demands.
　It would be best, then, to patch his breach in their defenses be-
fore their enemies took advantage of it.
　As for the timing, it was perfect. Neither Galbatorix nor the
Ra'zac would expect a raid in the center of the Empire when the
Varden were busy fighting Galbatorix's trooops near the border of
Surda. Murtagh and Thorn had been seen flying toward Uru'baen--
no doubt to be chastised in person--and Nasuada and Arya agreed
with Eragon that those to would probably then continue north-
ward to confront Queen Islazadiand the army under her command
once the elves made their first strike and revealed their presence.
And if possible, it would be good to eliminate the Ra'zac before they
started to terrorize and demoralize the Varden's warriors.
　Saphira had then pointed out, in the most diplomatic of terms,
that if Nasuada asserted her authority as Eragon's liegelord and for-
bade him from participating in the sortie, it would poison their rela-
tionship with the sort of rancor and dissent that could undermine
the Varden's cause. But, said Saphira, the choice is yours. Keep Eragon
here if you want. However, his commitments are not mine, and I, for
one, have decided to accompany Roran. It seems like a fine adventure.
　A faint smile touched Eragon's lips as he recalled the scene.
　The combined weight of Saphira's declaration and her impreg-
nable logic had convinced Nasuada and Arya to grant their ap-
proval, albeit grudgingly.

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5月 05 週二 200922:30
AROUND THE CAMPFIRE(p.12-13)

　　Eragon blinked, disoriented as the noise and fury of battle faded and the pleasant aroma of juniper wood replaced the stench of blood. He ran his tongue over his upper teeth, trying to eradicate the taste of bile that filled his mouth.
　　Murtagh.
　　The name alone generated a welter of confused emotions in Eragon. On one had, he liked Murtagh. Murtagh had saved Eragon and Saphira from the Ra'zac after their first, ill-fated visit to Dras-Leona; risked his life to help extricate Eragon from Gil'ead; acquitted himself honorably in the Battle of Farthen Dur; and, despite the torments he no doubt endured as a result, had chosen to interpret his orders from Galbatorix in a way that allowed him to release Eragon and Saphira after the Battle of the Burning Plains instead of taking them captive. It was not Murtagh's fault that the Twins had abducted him; that the red dragon, Thorn, had hatched for him; or that Galbatorix had discovered their true names, with which he extracted oaths of fealty in the ancient language from both Murtagh and Thorn.
　　None of that could be blamed on Murtagh. He was a victim of fate, and had been since the day he was born.

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5月 04 週一 200914:06
AROUND THE CAMPFIRE (p.10-11)

AROUND THE CAMPFIRE
　　The low mound of coals throbbed like the heart of some giant beast. Occasionally, a patch of gold sparks flared into existence and raced across the surface of the wood before vanishing into a white-hot crevice.
　　The dying remnants of the fire Eragon and Roran had built cast a dim red light over the surrounding area, revealing a patch of rocky soil, a few pewter-gray bushes, the indistinct mass of a juniper tree farther off, then nothing.
　　Eragon sat with his bare feet extended toward the nest of ruby embers--enjoying the warmth--and with his back propped against the knobby scales of Saphira's thick right forelog. Opposite him, Roran was perched on the iron-hard, sun-bleached, wind-worn shell of an ancient tree trunk. Every time he moved, the trunk produced a bitter shriek that mad Eragon want to claw at his ears.
　　For the moment, quiet reigned within the hollow. Even the coals smoldered in silence; Roran had collected only long-dead branches devoid of moisture to eliminate any smoke that unfriendly eyes might spot.
　　Eragon had just finished recounting the day's activities to Saphira. Normally, he never had to tell her what he had been doing, as thoughts, feelings, and other sensations flowed between then as easily as water from one side of a lake to another. But in this instance it was necessary because Eragon had kept this mind carefully shielded during the scouting expedition, aside from his disembodied foray into the Ra'zac's lair.
　　After a considerable gap in the conversation, Saphira yawned, exposing her rows of many fearsome teeth. Cruel and evil they may be, but I am impressed that the Ra'zac can bewitch their prey into wanting to be eaten. They are great hunters to do that ... Perhaps I shall attempt it someday.
　　But not, Eragon felt compelled to add, with people. Try it with sheep instead.
　　People, sheep: what difference is there to a dragon? Then she laughed deep in her long throat--a rolling rumble that reminded him of thunder.
　　Leaning forward to take his weight off Saphira's sharp-edged scales, Eragon picked up the hawthorn staff that lay by his side. He rolled it between his palms, admiring the play of light over the polished tangle of roots at the top and the much-scratched metal ferrule and spike at the base.
　　Roran had thrust the staff into his arms before they left the Varden on the Burning Plains, saying, "Here. Fisk made this for me after the Ra'zac bit my shoulder. I know you lost your sword, and I thought you might have need of it.... If you want to get another bland, that's fine too, but I've found there are very few fights you can't win with a few whacks from a good, strong stick." Remembering the staff Brom had always carried, Eragon had decided to forgo a new sword in favor of the length of knotted hawthorn. After losing Zar'roc, he felt no desire to take up another, lesser sword. That night, he had fortified both the knotted hawthorn and the handle to Roran's hammer with several spells that would prevent either piece from breaking, except under the most extreme stress.
　　Unbidden, series of memories overwhelmed Eragon: A sullen orange and crimson sky swirled around him as Saphira dove in pursuit of the red dragon and his Rider. Wind howled past his ears.... His fingers went numb from the jolt of sword striking sword as he dueled that same Rider on the ground.... Tearing off his foe's helm in the midst of combat to reveal his once friend and traveling companion, Murtagh, whom he had thought dead.... The sneer upon Murtagh's face as he took Zar'roc from Eragon, Claiming the red sword by right of inheritance as Eragon's elder brother....

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英語學習筆記

源自於工商,商周,BBC,經濟,Upaper 的英文筆記

AROUND THE CAMPFIRE (p.18)

AROUND THE CAMPFIRE (p.17)

AROUND THE CAMPFIRE (p.16)

AROUND THE CAMPFIRE (p.15)

AROUND THE CAMPFIRE (p.14)

AROUND THE CAMPFIRE(p.12-13)

AROUND THE CAMPFIRE (p.10-11)

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自訂側欄

近期文章

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文章彙整

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Upaper (4)

企管專刋 (1)

新聞報導 (3)

單字，小品文 (4)

源自於工商,商周,BBC,經濟,Upaper 的英文筆記