6. Detour
Since they would be passing nearly over it, the group agreed to stop for a time in Ilirea so they wouldn't have to wait several more weeks before seeing Nasuada. They intended to make this visit brief as well, out of respect for Varhog and Willow's wishes.
Murtagh decided that rather than inform Nasuada of their imminent arrival—a thing any one of them easily could have accomplished by scrying her—he wanted to surprise her. She didn't expect them for many weeks yet.
When the thunder of dragons approached the city and began to land with great gusts of wind and tremors of the earth, the citizens of Ilirea let out an excited cry. None present had any memory of such a sight. The dragons were magnificent to behold. There was an enormous black one, a fiery ruby one, one emerald green, one sunset pink-orange, and the one they loved best for her role in their freedom was Saphira, who was bluer than the bluest skies. They created a rainbow of shimmering wings, tails, and scales.
Just as the last dragon landed and its Rider dismounted in the great courtyard before the grand royal palace, Nasuada and a small entourage—among whose numbers Murtagh recognized Elva, who now appeared to be a sixteen-year-old young woman—hurried from the castle. Murtagh couldn't believe how happy he was to see Nasuada, and Eragon quietly commented to him that she looked so much healthier than when he had left ten years previously, completely recovered from all physical and emotional wounds.
Nasuada at first had eyes for no one but Murtagh, though she hadn't seen Eragon in over a decade. Completely unconcerned by how public it was or how unqueenly it might seem, Nasuada ran straight to Murtagh and threw her arms around him.
Her greeting took Murtagh by surprise. He stiffened and tentatively placed his arms around her waist, unsure of the decorum of his actions until he heard her words. In a voice full of love and longing she whispered, "Murtagh, you are here! How I missed you. Would that you never left me again."
At this, Murtagh lowered his face to her neck, for her hair was trussed up in an elegant design, and pulled her tightly against him. His tears streaked down the skin of her exposed neck as they fell from his eyes. Words failed Murtagh as his powerful emotions rendered him speechless.
Nasuada stayed in his embrace for a long while, seemingly conscious of Murtagh's reaction, for she did not move until he had time to compose himself.
Murtagh had time to consider a few important things while he held Nasuada in his arms. The first was that no matter how many times they revisited their familiar debate of mortal versus immortal, nothing had changed nor would it in the foreseeable future, so what was the point? Murtagh knew he would deeply regret it for the rest of his frustratingly long life if he refused to have a relationship with Nasuada on the grounds that it would only end in heartache. He also felt her undeniable acceptance of him, powerfully implied in her poignant words and by the tone of her voice.
So with all of these considerations in mind, when they finally stepped apart and before he lost his courage, Murtagh kept hold of her hands and surprised everyone around by falling to one knee. He gazed up into her face and in a clear, strong voice said, "Nasuada, from the moment I first laid eyes on you, I have admired you for the amazing woman you are. Never before then or after have I met someone with such intelligence, charm, and determination. I will never feel worthy of you, should you accept me right now, but if I don't ask, I will regret it for the rest of my undesirably long life. Will you marry me?"
Nasuada was clearly astonished by his forthrightness, but even that emotion was surpassed by her joy. "Yes, Murtagh. I will marry you. I thought you would never ask." And she burst out laughing. Murtagh did too as he stood and swept her into another tight embrace. Before letting her go, he bent down and tenderly kissed her.
Murtagh looked up and grinned when Eragon began clapping. He raised his eyebrows at his half-brother, but Eragon only shrugged as if to say, I couldn't help it. It seemed only right. Arya gave a delighted cry and joined her husband, as did Willow. The crowd all around took up the effort, cheering and whooping, all of which was drowned out by Thorn's unrestrained celebration. He released a deafening roar of triumph and raised his giant head toward the sky, loosing a river of ruby flames that shot hundreds of feet in the air. Murtagh knew that Thorn had never felt him so purely happy, and his dragon reveled in it. Murtagh also happened to notice Elva, who had a blissful expression on her face. He guessed there wasn't a person within her range of perception who felt pain or sorrow at that moment.
-:-:-
Nasuada's cheeks were wet with tears as Murtagh finally released her, although he kept firm hold of one of her hands. But she wasn't ashamed. Regarding all around her with calm certainty, her bearing truly regal, she said, "Forgive me for neglecting you thus, Riders. My heart demanded my attention, and I finally relented after years of denying it. See how I have been rewarded?" She raised the hand joined with Murtagh's and laughed once more as another round of cheering broke out.
When it quieted enough, Nasuada continued in a resounding voice, "Welcome to Ilirea! I never imagined to behold a sight such as this. Five noble dragons and their Riders appearing on my doorstep, bearing old friends and good tidings." She stepped toward Eragon and gave him an embrace of equal sincerity as her first, though without the love and longing.
"I know we have spoken in my absence, but I've missed you, Nasuada," Eragon said. "It is wonderful to see you."
"Yes, it is. And see how you have grown. A husband now!"
"And soon to be a father," Eragon proudly added.
This was the first Nasuada had heard his and Arya's news. A look of pure delight crossed her face as she turned to Arya and gave yet another embrace full of joy and warmth. "Is it truly so?" she wondered. Arya only nodded happily.
"Congratulations then!" Nasuada declared. "I never thought it would be. Here is another love as long in the making as ours, Murtagh. Perhaps we will also be so quickly blessed in our union."
"Nothing would bring me greater joy," Murtagh assured her, and from the look in his eyes, Nasuada saw that he longed to give her the family Galbatorix's torturous illusion had cruelly teased at.
Nasuada raised her voice again, proclaiming, "We have a wedding and celebration to plan! Let us not delay the happiness of my marriage. Spread the word! On the morrow the queen will marry her love!"
A great flurry of activity arose as servants bustled in many directions to fulfill their beloved queen's wishes, leaving the rest of them mostly alone.
"Tomorrow?" Murtagh asked. "Is that not too soon for these preparations to be completed?"
"I am the queen, Murtagh," Nasuada responded, smiling patiently. "I do not often exploit that as you see me now doing, but in this instance, I thought to have at least your understanding, if not your approbation."
"Indeed, I do not object," Murtagh asserted, returning her smile.
"Even if a magnificent celebration could not be planned," Nasuada went on, "I would still marry you tomorrow—in a burlap sack if need be—to put an end to our insufferable waiting."
Murtagh nodded his agreement. "Why have we waited so long?"
"Because you never thought to ask until now!" Nasuada cried with some exasperation.
"Forgive me, my dear, though you already have . . . of so much. I will redeem my tardiness by doing my best to make you the happiest woman alive."
"You have some fierce competition there," Arya murmured.
Eragon stepped forward and clapped his brother in a tight embrace. "It's a relief that I need no longer endure your pained looks of envy, Murtagh," he joked. "Now you will experience the joys of marriage for yourself, and the Riders will no longer have lovesick, miserable fools moping about."
Murtagh laughed at Eragon's first comment, but his eyes displayed concern after the last. "Can I be spared on the Isle?" he seriously asked.
"Yes, of course," Eragon reassured him. "Nasuada might like to have a Rider closer at hand, and time has healed the old wounds between you and the dwarves. You can now be at peace in Alagaёsia, can you not?"
"I believe so," Murtagh said, looking at Nasuada.
"Yes, you can," she insisted. "I can't bear to have you leave again. Seeing you for so brief a time every few years is intolerable."
"I agree," Murtagh softly said.
Nasuada then turned to regard the other two Riders who accompanied the three she had already greeted, intending to welcome them as well. The proud Urgal ram demanded her attention in an inexplicable way. Instead of greeting him, Nasuada simply stared at him and tried to identify why she would feel the need to do such a thing. She thought she remembered his name from when Arya mentioned it so many years prior. Varhog, perhaps.
He seemed different from other Urgal rams Nasuada had interacted with but what the difference was, she hardly knew. It was as if. . . . A sudden heat filled Nasuada's cheeks, and she was grateful her dark skin would hide the blush. The reason for her embarrassment was that she finally identified why her gaze had been drawn to the Urgal. There was a strange sensual appeal about him that Nasuada couldn't deny. It reminded her of the involuntary reaction she and all other human women had whenever in the presence of Blödhgarm the elf. But she had been around Urgals before and never felt such an impression in their presence. Their appearance was too alien.
The Urgal had the characteristic gray skin, yellow eyes, and impressive curling horns of all adult Urgals, but something about his features had an exotic beauty to them. They were broad and strong and handsome. An almost imperceptible crease of the Urgal's brow, who had been returning her own searching gaze with an impassive expression, suddenly alerted Nasuada to the untowardness of her actions. Murtagh also shifted uncomfortably beside her, and Nasuada realized that he was painfully aware of the bold nature of her examination.
She blinked, trying to shake off the strange effect, which was when she noticed that the tall woman standing next to the Urgal—closer to him, Nasuada thought, than she would have expected—was smiling broadly, understanding in her eyes.
With embarrassing bluntness the woman unexpectedly said, "This isn't the first time in recent weeks that a human female has discovered the animalistic attraction of an Urgal ram, now is it, Yelloweyes?" She grabbed the Urgal's hand, glancing up at him with a sly smile, which he returned with a slightly self-conscious expression.
Nasuada knew there was no hope of hiding her awkwardness now, dark skin or not. But the woman diffused the tension in the air with a light laugh and playful nudge of the Urgal. "I can't say I blame you, Your Majesty," she said. "For I am the very human female I mean and Varhog the very Urgal ram. I wouldn't resent you for admitting you thought him handsome, though I fear he has already pledged his affection to me." Another delighted laugh escaped her lips, one which Eragon, Arya, and—much to Nasuada's relief—Murtagh all shared. The Urgal also rumbled deep within his chest with his version of a chuckle. They all seemed familiar with the uncanny ability this woman had of making Nasuada feel both completely mortified and perfectly at ease in the same moment.
From Nasuada's side Murtagh said, "Willow was like a bright ray of sunshine when she joined the Riders seven years ago. She is so uncommon and amazing that she has captured the admiration of a proud Urgal ram, the first known occurrence of such a thing." He gave the praise with casual ease, and Nasuada turned to look at him. She could see that both he and Eragon viewed Willow as a beloved younger sister, what with the indulgent albeit exasperated smiles on their faces.
Nasuada returned her gaze to the woman, unable to hide her astonishment. "Willow?" she breathed.
"The very same, Your Majesty," Willow confirmed with a graceful curtsy, complete with a pantomime of holding out invisible skirts. "It's a pleasure to see you again."
Nasuada could hardly believe her eyes. When Murtagh had first presented Willow to Nasuada after she was chosen as a Rider, Willow had been pale and frail. Nasuada hadn't been able to quell a sense of disappointment that a dragon would hatch for someone who seemed so timid and awkward, with sad eyes and a drawn face, as if she had experienced too much sorrow for her young age.
Now it seemed that Nasuada was getting her first view of what the dragon must have sensed when presented with the girl—a strong, confident, unique woman who would have far greater impact on the world than she ever dreamed possible. Willow was tall and muscular, with a form similar to the build of an elf though not quite as slender—her shape was more curved and feminine.
She wore the same type of clothing Nasuada had always known Arya to wear—fitted leather leggings and coat over her shirt, along with knee-high leather riding boots. Nasuada didn't find it hard to believe that a dress would be completely illogical for a Dragon Rider, not only for the purposes of flying on a dragon, but also for all of the intensive combat training they engaged in.
Willow's eyes and hair were a warm, shining brown. The former now sparkled with delight, and the latter was secured in a casual twist, though a few free wisps framed her face in a windswept look.
"I hardly recognize you!" Nasuada declared. "You are so altered from when first we met as to almost be an entirely different person. You are strong, beautiful, poised . . ." Nasuada was stunned.
"Thank you, Your Majesty," Willow accepted with an easy grace. "Training on the Isle is not for the faint of heart. Varhog, in particular, has been a most demanding mentor. Though I have recently come to learn that he viewed our many contests as something of a courtship ritual." She lifted her other hand to hold around Varhog's arm, casting another teasing smile toward him while he smiled affectionately in return. The expression transformed his face, and Nasuada truly could see how Willow found him attractive.
"Contests?" Nasuada wondered in disbelief. "You fight him?" Though Willow was tall and strong, more so than Nasuada, next to Varhog she appeared the daintiest woman imaginable. His shoulders were twice as broad as Willow's, and his arms were thicker than her thighs. Had Willow been standing in front of Varhog, the top of her head would have reached the middle of Varhog's deeply muscular chest.
Willow nodded proudly, but Murtagh was the one to say, "She can best him in hand-to-hand combat like none of the rest of us can. It's incredible, something you truly have to see to believe." Nasuada noticed the even deeper look of pride in the Urgal's countenance. She knew what such a feat would mean to their race. No wonder he admired her so greatly, as was undeniably clear in the way he looked every time he glanced at her.
"Did you also say 'courtship ritual'?" Nasuada asked, unable to resist satisfying her curiosity on the other unbelievable point of Willow's earlier explanation. "Do you mean to say. . . ? That is . . ." Nasuada had no idea how to phrase the thought, as ridiculous and impossible as it seemed to her.
Willow nodded again. "We mean to marry, or whatever happens when an Urgal and human form a union. There isn't even a word for it, since it has never happened before, at least as far as we know. Barring any further delays, once we are finished with our visit here, we will travel to Varhog's village near Lake Fläm and do what must be done to enter into that union."
Nasuada was dumbstruck, and her jaw worked soundlessly. She had never had such difficulty replying to someone. And as high queen of Alagaёsia, that was truly saying something. "What you say is . . . unprecedented. I never would have imagined, ever, a human and an Urgal desiring such a thing, so fiery and profound is the mutual prejudice and revulsion both races feel for one another, even after all that happened during the war. If you truly mean to do this thing, you two will have the ability to bridge the gap and overcome the differences between your races in a way no one else could ever hope to accomplish."
Then when Nasuada realized that she had never officially greeted the Urgal, who hadn't yet spoken a single syllable, she turned to him and formally said, "Forgive me, Rider, for my brazen examination of you before. As it seems everyone was painfully aware of it, there is no reason for me to pretend innocence. Welcome to Ilirea. Since your dragon hatched from one of those under Arya's care rather than Murtagh's guardianship, I did not have the pleasure of meeting you before you journeyed to the Isle of the Eldunarí. I am Nasuada."
Varhog raised his chin to her in the gesture of friendship customary to his race before pressing both of his fists against his forehead, a show of respect for her position of leadership. When he spoke, Nasuada was completely unprepared. She was accustomed to deep, accented, clipped phrases from Urgals who knew enough of the common tongue to communicate with it. They were short and direct, with no pretense of eloquence. But Varhog—whose voice was still unusually deep, far more so than any human man—had only the faintest trace of an accent and his eloquence seemed completely natural.
He said, "I am Varhog of the Bolvek tribe, Your Majesty. Great is the fame of Lady Nightstalker among the members of my clan. My uncle is Nar Garzhvog, the Kull war chief who allied with you and the Varden in your fight against the empire. My elder brother, Yarbog, fought alongside Roran Stronghammer, Firesword's cousin. I too was among the fighting rams of the Bolvek tribe who fought with the Varden, but in my youth I was not worthy of notice or leadership. My brother and I joined their ranks after the Battle under Farthen Dûr—where our sire was killed—seeking revenge on Galbatorix."
Varhog then performed an unusual ritual, speaking words in a language none but Nasuada and Arya recognized, though Nasuada could see that Arya had no idea what he said. He extended his arms in front of him at a low angle with his palms facing up—though his hands were in fists—to expose the underside of his forearms. With his hands and arms thus, he bowed stiffly, lowering his head in what would have been a threatening manner to an Urgal, though it was an important part of this ceremony. He straightened, waiting silently after relaxing his arms by his side.
When his strange bow was complete, everyone looked at him and Nasuada expectantly, hoping for an explanation of what had just transpired. Nasuada was stunned, and tears shone in her eyes. "How did you know to do that?" she quietly demanded.
"I studied the various customs of all the races, clans, and peoples of Alagaёsia," Varhog replied simply.
"But no one could have taught you that save one from the Wandering Tribes," Nasuada insisted. "Such an obeisance has never been written or recorded in a book."
"I didn't learn it from a book," Varhog clarified. "I learned it from the Eldunarí. They have knowledge that stretches back thousands of years and encompasses all reaches of the land. They can place images in one's mind as well as thoughts and words."
"What did you do?" Eragon asked.
Nasuada answered, "He performed an obscure, ancient gesture of respect given to one of my native people who has been a victor in the Trial of the Long Knives, thus the exposure of the forearms."
"And what did you say, Varhog?" Arya pressed. "I recognized the language as one of the dialects of the Wandering Tribes but do not know it myself."
Again Nasuada replied in obvious amazement, "He paid me homage as a revered ruler and proven war chief, invoking upon me the blessings of Unulukuna and Gokukara, two of the gods my tribesmen reverence. Even your accent was all but perfect," she said to Varhog, and he shrugged modestly.
Nasuada demanded, "How many languages can you speak?"
"At least five fluently, some various dialects moderately well, and with a conversational understanding of a few others—but in those, I wouldn't be able to converse freely."
"What are the five?" Nasuada wondered, her astonishment ever increasing. She would never have thought to categorize an Urgal as a wise and learned scholar, which was a mild reminder to her of the prejudices she still held against the race.
Varhog said, "Urgralish, Dwarvish, the common tongue, the ancient language, and the main dialect of the Wandering Tribes, the one I addressed you in."
Varhog was so unpretentious that Nasuada couldn't help but admire it. "That is impressive indeed," she approved as the others nodded their agreement.
Varhog shrugged dismissively once more. "I never learned the common tongue as well as my uncle or brother, thinking it unnecessary and even somewhat disgraceful. But it was such a barrier when I began my training with Arya that I vowed I would overcome it as soon as I was able. Being able to communicate with all of the races the dragons now bond with seemed an important ability to have. If I am to live a very long life, I was sure I would have need of it someday, and today proved me right, as well as my time with the dwarves."
He continued, "The Eldunarí are excellent instructors. I can't imagine a better way to learn a language than their method. When you can hear the sounds in your mind and see the associated images in the same moment, it seems the most natural thing in the world to think about and refer to them in that language. If you can think coherent thoughts in a foreign language, you should also be able to express them in words, especially if the perfect pronunciation is right inside your head.
"I spent almost my entire second year on the Isle—after Knilf arrived and before Willow did—hiding out in the Cave of the Eldunarí and mastering use of the languages. After Knilf and I became friends, he helped me with Dwarvish, which is a language the dragons were not as familiar with. And they also had little knowledge of the Urgralish tongue. My advantage of being a native is not lost on me. It is difficult for one to learn when they do not grow up with it. The sounds and uses of the mouth, tongue, and throat are very foreign to those who speak the common tongue or the ancient language from their childhood."
It was the longest speech Nasuada had ever heard an Urgal make. Varhog seemed passionate about the learning of languages. She saw in him the makings of a fine diplomat and expressed her thought to him by saying, "It seems you would be a worthy ambassador among the races, as devoted as you are to understanding and learning about different cultures and languages."
Eragon said, "I thought the same thing when we visited the dwarves. They were all very suspicious of him and understandably so, but it never failed to amaze even the most determined antagonist when Varhog addressed them as if a native speaker in their own language. It considerably changed their opinion of him as an Urgal."
"A sentiment I can relate with increasingly by the moment," Nasuada agreed. She noticed Willow's look of pride. "So you and Willow intend to marry then? How do you think your clan will receive this news, Varhog?"
Varhog's expression changed to one of concern. "Not well, I fear," he replied. "As Willow said, such a thing as we intend has never been known in all the history, oral or written, of either of our peoples. They will be suspicious and angry. Furious even, if I know them, which I do. I know what my own feelings would have been had someone presumed to suggest such an abomination before I knew and fell in love with Willow. It would have been the most heinous act imaginable to join with a repulsive, bloodthirsty human. Yes," he confirmed as Nasuada raised her eyebrows in surprise, "difficult as it is to believe, we Urgralgra consider humans to be as murderous and violent as you view us. Speaking as a whole, of course. I personally do not share that view. There have been many notable exceptions in more recent history. You yourself, Lady Nightstalker. Firesword, of course, and Stronghammer. The Games Firesword started have been a starting point for the slow, arduous process of overcoming age-old prejudices."
Varhog paused and looked at Willow. He continued by addressing them all, but more specifically her, "This is something I meant to bring up as it was, Eartheyes. We don't have to have the approval of my clan, but if, by some improbable measure, we are able to obtain it, I think it would be a very good thing for our races and the peace of Alagaёsia as a whole. But it will be hard-won. Being the first Urgal Dragon Rider has given me a reputation among the Urgralgra that they will not willingly see tarnished. As unfortunate as it is to admit, they will view our union as something that would do just that—tarnish my reputation. I don't care about their opinion as much as I care about being with you, but I think there may be a way we could accomplish both without sacrificing either."
Willow nodded. "I agree, Yelloweyes. And from our conversation right after leaving the Isle, I am familiar with what might be expected of me. Why don't you edify these others?"
Varhog turned toward the others and explained, "As I'm sure you have already guessed, Willow will best prove her claim on me by fighting and defeating me, which she can do with increasing ease every time we grapple. But—and this is what I fear—they may insist that she best at least three opponents, just as a ram is expected to do before proving his eligibility to marry. Anyone could step forward to fight her, even a Kull."
Willow seemed unsurprised, though the others all exhibited various reactions of disbelief and concern. "I had considered it a possibility," she admitted. "I keep thinking of how Nar Garzhvog bested the cave bear. It wouldn't be much different for me against a Kull, though I don't have the strength of an Urgal's bare hands."
Nasuada scoffed and exclaimed, "Are you honestly suggesting you would let Willow go against a Kull in single combat? That's madness! Would they fight to the death? If she were killed, what good would that do but reinforce the Urgals' misconceptions?"
"I would not let Willow get hurt," Varhog said in a dangerous tone. "Fighting to kill was the way of the past. As you all know, a ram must now only subdue his opponent. Most of the clans have seen the necessity of this amendment—to allow the Urgralgra to continue living in this land—and have likewise adapted it, though reluctantly in some cases."
"But I do see your concern, and it is valid," Varhog continued. "She could be in terrible danger and sustain grievous injuries. You wouldn't worry as much if you knew how she fights. She's impossible to catch, and her small size next to an Urgal is what makes her triumph even possible. Firesword, Murtagh, and some of the other Riders have tried to beat me the same way Willow does, but I can reach them to pull them off my back because they're bigger and broader."
"Wait, do you mean to say that she jumps on your back?" Nasuada cried.
"Aye," Varhog affirmed, "and strangles me until I almost pass out. I can't reach her because of where she perches in the middle of my back, and I've never been able to pry her arms away from my neck, though it should be easy. My fingers are too thick to get around her arms where she lodges them, and though she is not strong compared to me, she's strong enough to restrict the air and blood flow to my head and body. Within seconds usually, I collapse. But Willow, if this is expected of you when I present you to my clan, you must persist in your stranglehold until I actually pass out."
"But what if that hurt you?" Willow objected.
"No, it won't hurt me. I might have a headache when I recover, but nothing worse. The Urgralgra need to see that you could kill me if you wished. That would never happen unless I was unconscious because I could always fight back before. If you were expected to fight again, of which I am still unsure, you would have to do the same with your other opponents. I know you are capable of it, but three in a row would be enough to tire your arms. If you faced a Kull, you would need to hold on even longer since his neck would be wider and stronger. We need not even go, but if you won their approval in this manner, you would always have their respect and loyalty, even as you do mine."
"I would do this and more to prove myself worthy of you, Yelloweyes," Willow said. "I'm not afraid of a few Urgals." Nasuada was amazed by the sincerity in Willow's countenance—it was clear that she truly loved Varhog.
"I would fight more like an Urgal than ever before," Varhog warned. "It would be necessary. I have never gone easy on you, but I've also never bellowed and roared and done any number of other bestial things we do when fighting. They must see you overcome me at my fiercest."
"Hmm," Willow thoughtfully said, a small smile playing at the corners of her mouth. "Perhaps we could practice before arriving in your village so you can demonstrate for me. Then I could observe what you mean and prepare accordingly."
"Yes, we could do that," Varhog agreed. "Would that I could see the look in their eyes when you take me down. But I'll be unconscious. Why were you almost smiling just then?"
"Imagining you bellow and roar strikes me as funny," Willow replied. "I can see myself bursting out laughing. Not that I can't picture it, of course, because you're terrifying enough. I simply think my reaction would be amusement, odd as it sounds."
"If it truly were, it would give you an advantage," Varhog said. "Can any of you picture Willow facing Nar Garzhvog and him bellowing at her, only to have her laugh in his face?" Now a smile crossed his features, and everyone laughed. Apparently they could see her doing just that. "He would be furious that his frightening intimidation technique did nothing more than amuse her, and it would make him rash and impulsive. If that is what you feel to do if the situation ever presents itself, I would suggest doing it."
"Very well," Willow replied. "I shall."
Nasuada suddenly announced, "I would be present for this, if I may be so bold as to invite myself. Do you object, Willow, Varhog?"
They both shook their heads, and Willow cried, "Of course not! It would be a great honor to have the high queen present for our union."
Varhog added, "The people of my clan would likewise be honored by a visit from the famed Lady Nightstalker."
"It is high time I make another visit anyway," Nasuada said, a hint of worry entering her voice. "We have been having more problems with the northern Urgal tribes. Nar Garzhvog has done all he can to assist me in maintaining peace between our races. He has sent many of his fighting rams to fortify Carvahall, which is the strongest human city up north. The Urgals are agreeable to this since they still honor Roran. Carvahall takes in many refugees from smaller human settlements in the vicinity when the Urgals begin seeking out conflict, but we still haven't been able to figure out why we have such problems with those tribes up there when we have none with the southern tribes down here. It seems to flare up every summer when a Dragon Rider returns to the land, particularly each year a new human Rider is chosen."
Varhog's face twisted in concern. "I think I may have an idea as to why, Your Majesty."
"Oh?" Nasuada said. "Won't you please enlighten me?"
"It most likely has to do with King Kulkarvek in Anghelm. He is the only war chief all the others recognize as ruler over the Urgralgra, since he can defeat anyone who stands against him. The other Urgal Rider, Grintuk, is from Anghelm, and he reminded me right before we left the Isle of the king's grievances against humans, dragons, and especially human Dragon Riders. No one really knows whys he hates them so much, but that he does is universally known by any member of the Delvhtuk clan. When I was chosen as a Dragon Rider, and when Grintuk was as well, the king ranted hatefully about how he wanted to eradicate humans from Alagaёsia."
"The king," Nasuada wearily said. "I hear mention of this mysterious figure but know absolutely nothing about him. We need to get to the bottom of this. I fear another war will break out if there is a powerful monarch who feels the way you suggest this Kulkarvek feels towards humans, which is an ironic twist on how Galbatorix felt toward the Urgralgra. He too believed the whole race should be exterminated. The friendship between our races is already shaky enough. The humans have a hard time believing that the Urgals are trying to change their ways when they continue to raid their villages, pillaging and killing. They know little about the different tribes and nothing about an Urgal king who might be organizing everything. Fortunately, we have had few casualties because of Garzhvog's assistance, but if tensions escalate, we will surely begin to see more deaths." She sighed and rubbed her eyes.
Then with great effort she squared her shoulders and smiled graciously. "But let us not dwell any longer on these melancholy subjects, at least not right now. We have a wedding to prepare! Come, Murtagh. I am sure someone will be wanting us for the fitting of some fine wedding apparel or other. After the celebration is over, we will not delay our departure for Varhog's village any longer than necessary, and we will then have the chance to travel as man and wife. We need never be apart ever again," Nasuada finished, pulling on Murtagh's hand to guide him toward the palace.
-:-:-
As the group began following after her and Murtagh, the dragons all left together, and Eragon explained that Saphira intended to show them the outcropping over the city. In spite of all the happiness and anticipation, Eragon noticed Murtagh's expression after Nasuada's assertion that they would always remain together. They both knew it wouldn't be true, for in time she would die.
For the first time, Elva looked pained as she observed the two brothers and experienced their sorrow. Knowing Murtagh would do the same if their roles were reversed, Eragon silently vowed, Brother, if I can find a way to make her declaration a reality, I will do it. I swear.
In spite of his grim expression, Eragon saw Murtagh's gratitude, and Eragon determined to keep despairing thoughts from his mind during this time of joy.
-:-:-
Arya helped Eragon to that end. Her desire to be with him proved as insatiable as she had predicted. They had been traveling from Tronjheim for days, which hadn't allowed them as much privacy as they wished. That night, however, they found themselves alone at last in an ornate chamber, and they once again enjoyed one another's intimate love.
Eragon still could not perceive any change in her body, though the baby was yet again so different when he reached it with his mind. Arya was now eight weeks pregnant by her estimation. As he gently stroked her back, Eragon asked, "When will your womb begin to swell? You seem no different from before, but the baby is so changed."
"Soon, I would expect. No part of me is different to you?" Arya pressed in a mischievous tone of voice.
Eragon had the uneasy feeling that he had missed something obvious and she was now pointing it out. He thought carefully, not wanting to upset her. "You womb seems no bigger though perhaps your breasts do," he finally ventured. "Do they too change during the baby's growth?"
"Very perceptive, my darling," Arya approved.
Eragon sighed in relief, and she laughed. "It wasn't a test, Eragon. I only meant to tease. Yes, most women's breasts do change in preparation for the birth of their baby so they will be ready to feed it once born, growing in size and weight as the function of the breast—that is, to produce milk—is prepared. Human women feed their babies at the breast, do they not?"
"Mm-hmm," Eragon murmured, caressing hers as they spoke of them and savoring how warm, soft, and full they were. "Does that mean I might get a mouthful of milk if I carry on in my usual habits after our baby is born?" He gave her a roguish grin.
He was completely unconcerned by the notion, which seemed to surprise and gratify Arya. "I suppose it does," she said. "You don't seem to mind the thought, which is very mature of you."
"Because I'm so very mature now," Eragon joked in a voice of mock formality, which earned him a soft laugh. "No, Arya, I truly don't mind the thought. I'm sure the milk will taste good. It must, judging by how eager suckling infants always seem to be." He grinned again as she blushed faintly.
"I love seeing you blush," he said, stroking her soft cheek. "I can't wait to be a father, Arya, and what's more, to see you a mother. I will gladly share your body with our little one. You will be the bringer of life to our family, to me in a different way than to our baby. Without you, my life wasn't one at all."
Arya blinked as tears suddenly appeared in her eyes, inspired by his selfless sentiment. "Thank you, Eragon," she whispered. "Murtagh truly is mistaken if he thinks he can make Nasuada happier than you make me. Your insight never ceases to amaze me."
"We are right for each other, just as they are," Eragon said, raising his fingers to brush the tears from the corners of her eyes. "I think he will make her as happy as I do you, though I don't mean to sound arrogant saying that. I'm merely echoing your words. It would be wonderful if they could also have children so quickly. Then there would be cousins. Children make the world a happier place."
"I couldn't agree more," Arya said, and the tears then spilled down her cheeks as he continued to reveal his gentle wisdom. "Do you think we might really have more than one?" Eragon could see that she hardly dared believe it was possible.
"Why not?" he insisted. "If your fertility depends on your happiness and contentment and you never age, then we could have a hundred."
"A hundred!" Arya murmured, obviously too mesmerized by the idea to dismiss it completely. "Even I might not be able to handle that."
"And why not?" Eragon insisted again, this time teasingly. "For by the time the hundredth one came along, the eldest would be over a century and plenty able to help in caring for the younger ones."
Arya giggled. Eragon loved the sound as much as ever, and he chuckled along with her. "I love you so much it almost hurts sometimes, Arya." He nuzzled her neck with his chin, taking care to tickle with his beard, which he had kept trimmed to the length she desired ever since she first requested he keep it. "You make me the happiest man in the world. Every day I count my blessings that somehow I got you after all those years of waiting. I would do anything for you."
Arya's tears hadn't stopped since they had first begun, and Eragon's efforts of clearing them away were becoming increasingly futile.
As she sheepishly blinked her eyes, Eragon asked in concern, "Are you well, my love?"
"More than well," Arya laughed through her crying, "though I'm sure I must seem ridiculous. I am touched by how thoughtful and sweet you are. And I can't seem to stop these tears, though I am not sad. Would it be easier for your modesty if we blame it on the pregnancy?"
"I'm not sure it would help," Eragon mournfully said, "for that too was my doing."
Arya smiled and murmured, "I know what you mean about loving me so much it hurts. And since I want to and can, instead of trying to express in words how deeply I love you, I'll simply show you again." So she did, and her actions spoke far louder than words as she opened her mind to Eragon and engulfed him in her tender passion. As they drifted into their waking dreams with their arms around each other, all seemed right with the world despite the uncertainties their future held.