The healing process took a long while. Every bone and joint in Willow's legs was destroyed, and the two elves relied on borrowed energy—from the wolves and dragons—long before they were finished. When they were, Garzhvog helped Willow to her feet.
She felt a dim sense of surprise flit across her awareness when the elf smith Rhunön suddenly stood in front of her, wrapping her in a tight embrace. "Willow," she rasped. "I'm so sorry. I never thought you would have to lose Varhog when using my armor for its intended purpose. Oh my dear, you were magnificent, but how will you bear this?"
"Rhunön?" Willow muttered in confusion. "How are you here?"
"It's an old trick of my trade," Rhunön sadly explained. "I attach a spell to every sword I forge that allows me to travel by magic to the location of that blade should its bearer fall in battle. But I've never used it before. When I felt the pull from Drajavek, my heart broke imagining how that would affect you. I came immediately to learn what I could and see if I could help. Can I? Is there anything I can do?"
"I don't know, honored one," Willow replied in a distant way. "Stay for the funeral? It really doesn't matter to me. Thank you for the honor of coming for Varhog. I know he was grateful that your armor allowed me to triumph today." She glanced down at Kulkarvek's body. "Now he can't ever kill anyone again."
Willow then moved her eyes and was vaguely aware that the sun hung slightly higher in the sky. Something in the back of her mind reminded her that the twins would be missing her. With her eyes glued to Varhog's motionless form, Willow magnified her voice and shouted over the Urgal army, "King Kulkarvek is dead, laid low by my own hands. I, Willow of the Dragon Riders, am rightful queen of the Urgralgra and I now declare this battle over. Everyone may return to their homes or Ilirea. My dwelling will not be in Anghelm but in the Bolvek village with my tribe. I will eventually visit every Urgralgra village, but it will be some time before I can come. My mate was killed today and we have two small sons. I'll need to recover and become accustomed to caring for them without his help. His funeral and burial will be tomorrow in Ilirea. Any who wish to honor him are invited. Come pay your respects to the hero who loved us enough to lay down his life on our behalf."
Tears coursed down her cheeks as she repeated the message in the common tongue for the army from Ilirea, omitting the sections about her home and visits to the Urgralgra.
Willow slumped against Garzhvog, who immediately scooped her up. Black Thunder approached the small group of Riders and Urgals at the scene of the fighting and communicated, I wish to carry my Rider's body back to Ilirea. Can he be secured to my belly?
Eragon and Murtagh had done this very thing with Arya's comatose body after they had rescued her from Gil'ead. While Varhog's brothers held him up, the human brothers swiftly attached Varhog's body to Black Thunder's belly.
Black Thunder said to Grintuk, Remember Drajavek. You can carry it as easily as Varhog. Grintuk bent and retrieved the huge black sword.
Willow's eyes never left her husband's still body. She asked Garzhvog to walk with her in such a way that she would always be able to see Varhog, registering nothing else about the trip back to the palace.
When next she was aware, Black Thunder stopped in the courtyard. Only a few hours had passed since they left. The fighting had taken even less time than the talking. The longest activity had been walking to and from the city.
Someone fetched a stretcher from the resident doctor, which Grintuk expanded and reinforced with magic so it would hold Varhog's huge body. Then they untied and transferred him to the new carrier.
As they followed Varhog's brothers, bearing the stretcher between them, Garzhvog whispered, "Where do you want him, Willow?"
"Our room," Willow tonelessly answered.
Once they were inside the palace corridors, word of their arrival preceded them. Myrin came out into the hallway, her eyes searching for Tarhvek. When she saw that he was well, her gaze dropped to the stretcher and her face fell. She covered her mouth with one hand, clutching her gut with the other. Tarhvek approached her, and she fell into his arms.
"Varhog?" Myrin whispered in shock. Willow's eyes skimmed over her as Garzhvog passed, but she barely noticed Myrin's grief. She was too numb with her own.
In the emotionless part of her mind, Willow knew her babies would immediately want to nurse. She hoped they would be anxious enough for her milk and that it was close enough to their nap time that they would quickly fall asleep and not notice their father at first. She needed time to prepare for that.
Eragon had enough presence of mind to recognize that they would need a place to lay the body when they arrived in Willow's room, so he, Arya, and the other elf Riders swiftly moved several tables from adjoining chambers into Willow's before the entourage arrived, lining them up end to end to create a resting place of sufficient length.
To make it through the doorway, the four rams holding the stretcher at its corners rearranged themselves. Two stepped away altogether, while those remaining grasped both handles at the stretcher's head and foot. As they began to enter, Trayin stood from her location on the floor with the twins, gasping as her confusion about the elves and tables gave way to understanding. She stared incredulously at Varhog's dead body, leaning into her mate when he walked over to comfort her.
The twins looked around in surprise at the large group of people suddenly entering the room after a morning of peace and quiet. Willow slid out of Garzhvog's arms and knelt in front of the boys so they wouldn't look toward the tables where their father's body was being laid.
"Mama!" the twins cried together, standing and patting her chest. "Miwk, mama. Pwease? Have miwk?"
"Yes, boys," Willow replied, attempting to infuse any emotion into her voice. "You may have your milk. Let's lie on the bed so you can also have your nap." She looked imploringly at Grintuk and Garzhvog. "Brother, father," she whispered. "Please stay and block his body so they can't see him." Tears flowed from their exhausted reservoir. It should have been exhausted because of how many she had already shed, but more followed. More always followed.
Garzhvog nodded, pulling a chair over so he could sit. Grintuk did the same. Their broad shoulders blocked most of Varhog's body from view. Myrintuk and Breetuk slumped together in a loveseat, anguished tears coursing down their cheeks. The others all quietly left.
Willow stood, pulled off her armor, and laid it at the foot of the bed. She picked up the boys and climbed on the bed, situating herself against the pillows as the boys snuggled next to her body. They were used to this from the week Varhog had been gone. They knelt next to her sides and leaned over to latch onto the breast in front of them, their small heads drooping sideways. After a very determined nursing session, during which they doggedly fought their weariness so they could remove all of the milk, they succumbed to sleep. Willow gently unlatched them, covering herself as she sat up so they could lie down on the pillows and continue their nap.
Willow scooted off the bed, walked around the tables to the side opposite Grintuk and Garzhvog, and lay down on top of Varhog's cold body, wedging her hands between his arms and torso and resting her head in the center of his chest. The tears that had stopped flowing while she nursed the twins resumed their course down her cheeks as she searched in vain for the reassuring beat of his heart. Willow fell into a numb trance, aware of nothing else until her babies awoke nearly two hours later.