Dragonstone 34

Chapter 34
Back in the present, Arin and Samurai Chick sympathize with Egil. Samurai Chick says that her people would have retaliated, and Egil says that the Vikings would have too, but he's lost his memories of where the place was, and his father (who knew their destination) died a week after they left. Everyone has a sad.
The next day, Arin removes the bandages from Egil's injury and the narrative makes sure to remind us that Thar the Useless is there as well. Egil puts on his sweet new eye-patch and declares that “Now I am truly Egil One-Eye.” Well, that was important.
Egil finally checks out of Blackstein Lodge, and Our Heroes waste another week as he slowly recuperates and regains his strength. I'm not sure what the purpose of this was aside from sapping any feeling of tension. Anyway, Arin finally notes that they need to leave soon to find the mad monarch's rutting peacock – why she's decided this now, I don't know – and we get another weirdly specific reference to her and Egil's heights.
Egil indicates his intent to come along, saying “Is it not so that I am one-eye in dark water?” Arin reminds him of Alos, and she and Samurai Chick have a brief argument over who fits the “rede” better. The problem is, both of them fit. Samurai Chick pushes for Egil, arguing that he's young, fit, a trained warrior, wants to come along, and knows about Doomy, the same Mage who was at Black Mountain on The Day The Dragons Came. Doomy is obviously the wizard spoken of in that other propecy, who will claim the Jellybean and lead the warriors of Moko to conquer the world. By contrast, Alos is a feeble old drunkard who wants nothing to do with the quest.
Arin points out that Egil doesn't know how to get to Doomy's Fortress of Evil, but Samurai Chick suggests that the Magical Mages of Magickness could recover his memories the way they did Arin's. Failing that, they do have that magical globe that pinpoints the location of every evil wizard in the world.
Yeah, about that. What's its purpose? Is it just there to look impressive? They certainly don't seem to be using it. \~/
Arin suggests that maybe Alos knows where Doomy is, at which Samurai Chick's eyes “flew wide open.”
Arin, Egil and Samurai Chick come to “the crest of the tor overlooking the steep notch of the fjord, the deep black waters lying in the sun of the long summer day like a ribbon of obsidian, an ebon road.”
I don't think water is normally black.
As Samurai Chick picks flowers – yes, really – Arin says once again that they need to get going on their quest. I am really, really not feeling the urgency her. We seem to vary between casual, lengthy periods of relaxation and sudden, frantic urgency, with no rhyme or reason. McKiernan clearly wants to keep some tension – will Doomy succeed in mastering the Jellybean and conquer the world? Will Our Heroes stop him in time? – but the problem is twofold.
First, we have no timeline, no ticking clock. We have no clue how far along Doomy's plans are, or indeed if he has any – he fits the prophecy of the warlord of Moko, but that doesn't prove that he's the villain. We don't know whether he has the Jellybean, or if he does, how close he is to mastering it, or using it, or anything. He could already have won off-camera, or he might not even be involved.
Compare to Lord of the Rings. We know Sauron's plan – crush Gondor and conquer all the known world. We have a sense of tension, because the Nazgul are actively pursuing our heroes and the forces of Mordor are increasing their pressure on Gondor's defenses. The sense of menace increases steadily, which raises the tension – it's not a matter of if Sauron will attack, but when.
The second problem lies in our heroes' actions. Most of the time they saunter along at a leisurely pace, casually taking a week or two off to hang out with Dalavar the Dogwizard, or let Egil recuperate. During these periods, there's no tension, no sense that the enemy – whoever they might be – is taking action or making progress. When Arin suddenly insists that there's not a minute to waste, or when the Nameless Elves begrudge the Mages even a single hour to glean more information, it comes out of nowhere and rings false. It's as if McKiernan periodically remembered that there needs to be some impetus, some reason for haste, and so throws in these references every few chapters.
Compare, once again, to Lord of the Rings. The members of the Fellowship are proactive; once Frodo makes the decision to leave the Shire, they barely stop. There's an enforced stop in Rivendell when Frodo recuperates and information is gathered, and another in Lothlorien, but aside from that the heroes are active, moving, trying to get ahead of Sauron's forces. Even when the action slows, references to the Enemy and the threat they face are constant, so the reader never loses that sense of tension and danger.
\~/
So anyway, Arin notes that Egil said there were two reasons he wanted to join up, but only mentioned one. Egil tells her “Just this, my engel: now that I have found you, quest or no, I would ask to ever stay at your side.”
They've known each other for about two weeks, remember.
Arin has three problems with this. The first is that Egil is a raider: he makes his living by killing people and taking their stuff. He argues that it's an honorable profession, and anyway they only raid their traditional enemies, but Arin correctly points out that he just told her about when he sailed off to raid new people. This, by the way, is why I didn't take any drinks for Egil being a merciless sea butcher earlier.
Arin then fritters away my goodwill by saying that “long apast when we were yet mad the Elven race did such things as raid merely for spoils.” 
Because elves are better than us dumb, savage, warlike humans; remember that. Never forget that. \~/
So some Nameless Elf said that raiding for vengeance is just peachy, but raiding for spoils is badwrong, and “if there is ever to be peace among Elvenkind, then let it begin with me.”
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I guess raiding the other, lesser races for spoils is still fine, then? At least that's how it reads to me. \~/ Anyway, Arin says that it took many millenia before “the madness finally passed away from my people – the evil withered on the vine.”
So it appears that when McKiernan says the Ancient Elves were “mad,” he means they were prone to violence and warfare. Because clearly, violence is the act of insane people, only and exclusively.
By that logic, all of these people are “mad” and “evil.” \~/
Egil points out that the elves “still seek vengeance” (including vengeance over some trees!) and Arin acknowledges this, but says that maybe that will change someday. Egil says, if him being a raider will prevent Arin from being with him, “then let it begin with me.”
Yep, he just threw away his entire lifestyle over a girl, and a girl of a foreign culture that he's known for less than a month. Surely, this is the basis for a strong, long-lasting relationship. \~/
Arin moves on to her second objection: she can't bear Egil's children. However, this is not because they are of different species, but because “Elves can neither sire nor bear young on Mithgar; just as humans cannot sire nor bear young on Adonar.” Egil brushes this aside because, hey, they can always adopt. This is perfectly fine, but I do wonder whether Arin might want to have her own biological children someday. Some women do.
Finally, Arin's third objection is that she's an immortal elf, while Egil is a mayfly-like human who will be dead in a few scant decades, at most. Egil's brilliant response is “Then, love, let us savor the days that we have and let tomorrow fend for itself.” Which is amazingly selfish and short-sighted. Yes, live in the moment and all that, but he's not the one who gets to watch his partner grow old and die in a relatively tiny span of time. He's not the one who will be left behind to deal with that grief. It's a glib, thoughtless dismissal of a genuine problem, and it reads like Egil is trying to get into Arin's unladylike pants and doesn't care what happens beyond that. \~/
Arin points out that Egil will age while she will not, and that he might come to resent her for it – which, if folklore and fantasy fiction in general are anything to go by, is a well-founded concern. Check out Tolkien's Akallabêth for one example. Egil's response is predictably casual:
“Oh, my engel, how could you think I would ever resent you? You are my beloved.” 
This melts Arin's heart \~/ and, all her concerns adequately addressed, she kisses Egil.
Just then, Samurai Chick sees a ship sailing into the harbor, a “Rianian carrack” which is a merchant ship. Arin proposes taking passage on it to Jute, overruling Egils' preference to sneak ashore in the dead of night. When asked what her plan is, she simply says that “On such a ship as the one below, we will have time to think of a plan, neh?”
“Neh?”
We quickly learn that the ship is the Gyllen Flyndre, captained by Captain Holdar, and he has no desire to go near Jute. He offers to let Our Heroes off nearby, if they have a small boat he can haul or tow, and Egil thinks he knows of one. Captain Holdar mentions that the Queen of Jute collects “exotic things – birds, animals, creatures, whatever, people not the least” and that if she sees Samurai Chick and her “golden skin” \~/ she's likely to throw her in a cage.
Another week passes – not doing much for the tension, McKiernan \~/ – during which time Egil trades Arin's horse for a 30-foot boat and Egil and Arin become lovers. Eventually, the Gyllen Flyndre sets sail, towing Our Heroes's boat, the Brise, “a Gothonian word none there knew the meaning of.” Egil begins teaching Arin and Samurai Chick how to be sailors, and they sail on through the beautiful sea.
Suddenly, screams ring out and the chapter ends!
Drinks: 10
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