Murtagh’s trauma

I haven’t seen this discussed much yet, but I’m currently reading Murtagh, and something struck me about how he and Thorn say their true names before they sleep. This ritual reminds me of how Leonardo DiCaprio’s character in Inception spins his top for comfort, to confirm what reality he’s in.

For Murtagh and Thorn, speaking their true names feels like more than just reassurance—they seem to do it to affirm their freedom. It’s as if by repeating their true names, they’re reminding themselves that they alone are their masters. And if someone were to enslave them again through their true names, this practice might help them retain the strength to free themselves. In a way, it’s like building up a resistance to poison by exposing yourself to it, using repetition to lessen the power their true names hold over them.

Murtagh’s trauma is complex and deep, and his resentment toward Eragon is particularly compelling. Although they’re like two sides of the same coin, I don’t think their traumas outweigh each other. Eragon was forced to mature quickly, thrust into a role he was unprepared for. His mistakes are scars he’ll carry forever. In Eldest, for instance, while he’s learning under Oromis, he’s also grappling with the trauma inflicted by Durza. Paolini could have explored that trauma even more deeply, but it’s clear that Eragon was transformed from a farm boy into a messiah-like figure without ever getting the chance to process what he was going through—duty always came first.

Murtagh’s story, on the other hand, is one of pure survival through unrelenting trauma and horror. He may not have the same heavy responsibilities, but, like Eragon, he was forced to play a role he didn’t choose—that of a villain, alongside Thorn. Both were crippled in different ways, Eragon physically and Murtagh through his lack of knowledge of the ancient language. Both are fugitives, each carrying their burdens as mirror images of each other.

I can understand why Murtagh struggles to see Eragon as a friend when he’s in so much pain, but I wish he could recognize that Eragon might be the one person who truly understands him. It would even help Thorn to be around older dragons like Saphira, to learn how to better accommodate his own body and feel more than just like a weapon. After all, Thorn, too, was only a child forced into a soldier’s life.

These are just my thoughts based on what I’ve read so far—so they might evolve by the end of the book.