Popularity War

Chapter 12

Eva sighed heavily and tried not to cry out in frustration as the cow refused to sit still and knocked over the bucket of milk. There was not much liquid for Eva had a hard time milking the cow on Eragon's farm. After much persistence, Eragon had managed to let Eva live and work on the farm. Being her fifth day, she was already flustered. She knew the work would be hard, but she had hoped to be a quick learner. However, that was not the case. She struggled with most of the tasks presented to her. Eragon kept telling her that she will get better in time, but she was not convinced.

He was sitting next to her in a stool and tried not to look disappointed at her repeated failure. "Why don't you stop for today? I'll finish this and then we can make breakfast."

Eva said nothing as she stood up and allowed Eragon to take her seat to milk the cow. She watched him easily extract the milk from the udders, upset that she could not do the same. Back inside, Eva grabbed a frying pan to cook some eggs. At least she could cook, which delighted the three men she lived with. Typically they had eaten cold meat, cheese, or bread in the morning, but since she arrived, she had been giving them proper food for their morning meal. "Breakfast is the most important meal of the day," she insisted.

After another long day on the farm with Eva struggling to keep up, Garrow had to talk to Eragon in private before dinner. As much as he wanted to help Eva, he could not afford to lose precious time during the harvest to have Eva trained. When she wasn't having trouble completing a task, she was in the way of the men, or so Garrow concluded. "Eragon, we need to find Eva another job. Her performance here is not working out, I'm sorry."

"Uncle, it's only been a few days; give her more time, please." Eragon was afraid his uncle would comment on Eva's work and he was bound to keep her working on their farm.

Garrow took off his straw hat to wipe the sweat from his brow. "I understand. If it wasn't during the harvest, I would not be as concerned, but we have much work to get done and she's not helping matters. She's not strong enough to continuously dig up the vegetables and haul them to the storage barn. She can wash them down, but that task does not take long. She can't milk the cows yet. All her tasks around here are not complex or hard, but she still cannot do them.

"I know it is not her fault, but I know she is upset because she cannot help and I can't bear to have her sit around doing nothing while we work. That is not fair to her nor to me. Nothing against her, but she needs to earn her keep here." He scratched his chin when he finished.

Eragon understood his uncle's complaint, but he could not send her back to the village to find work. "Listen, maybe we are giving her the wrong chores. You've seen her in the kitchen; she excels in there. Eva is not meant for hard labor, so why not have her help out in the house? I will keep helping her with milking, and she can take care of the animals, cooks meals, clean, sew, etc. instead. She will be working and it's work she can do. We've been so keen on manual labor here that we've neglected the house itself and all the work that needs to be done there."

Eragon held his breath as his uncle processed what he said. After about a minute, she saw him nod his head, seemingly satisfied. "You know, I never did think of that. There has not been a woman living here in ages and I have not been able to keep up on the housework. Eva can give that a try. Why don't you tell Eva her new duties after dinner and after a few days, I'll see if she can stay or not?"

"Thank you uncle!" Eragon whooped. He knew Eva would not let his uncle down this time.

Eva hummed while she cleaned the kitchen counter, excited about the traders' annual visit to Carvahall. The traders were a group of specialized tradesmen and women who traveled around Alagaesia selling their goods. They typically stayed a few days in each city or village they visit and Eva always looked forward to their coming. Not only did they sell goods, but they also had entertainers, so in the evening they would put on shows. There was talk that they would be in Carvahall within the month.

That would be excellent for Eragon's family had a good portion of their harvest to sell yet. Snow had come early that year and it prevented them from traveling to the village to open up their shop. It had gotten bad before the snow even came. Eragon had gone hunting a week before the snow storm and came back with nothing but an odd blue stone. He tried to sell it to Sloan, but the butcher would not take the stone as payment. Horst had to "save the day" by stopping the two men before a fight broke out. The man even bought Eragon meat, which made Garrow unhappy. Eragon said he accepted a job at Horst's in the summer to pay back for the meat.

Thinking of Eragon left her smiling. Ever since she started working on the farm, she noticed her feelings for him become more apparent. Her fear of messing up dissipated as her new duties were ones she could perform quite well. The house was dust-free and continuously cleaned, the smell of freshly baked goods had become a normal afternoon scent on the farm, and the mens' clothes were mended each evening while she sat by the fire. Garrow was finally pleased by her work ethic and even gave her compliments. With the threat of leaving the farm out of her mind, her thoughts had drifted to fanciful ideas.

Lost in her thoughts, she envisioned herself dancing with Eragon in the village, a smile crossing her lips. The tune in her head was lively and Eragon was spinning her around and around while she was laughing. Before she became dizzy, he stopped twirling her to look deep into her eyes, which sparkled by the glow from the bonfire. She watched herself stare back at him with desire and slowly began to lean towards Eragon. Following suit, he leaned in as well and before she knew it, she was kissing Eragon.

The smell of smoke made Eva shake off her passionate thoughts and into reality. Her eyes scanned the room until they found the source: the chicken was burning! With a screech, she ran over to the spit to rotate the meat, but it was too late, the chicken was black. Even so, she turned it over. When she concluded that nothing could be saved, a sense of panic welled up inside her. Not only did she ruin the main course with little time to make alternate plans, she also ruined the last chicken they had.

Garrow was stingy when it came to meat since they had little of it, and that made her feel awful. Accident or not, she knew that she had ruined good meat that could have been used for several meals. Feeling defeated, she placed her head in her hands, trying her best to hold in her tears. She did not even notice when Eragon entered the kitchen, concern strewn across his face. The smell of smoke made him rush towards the house, so he was relieved to find that everything was all right, except for Eva.

"Eva?" Eragon asked. From his angle, he could not see the burnt meat.

Alarmed by his sudden voice, Eva jumped back and slipped on some grease on the floor. As she tried to catch her balance, she knocked over the tin of flour, the contents spilling onto her head. Dazed about what happened, Eva sat on the floor looking like a ghost. Eragon was tempted to laugh at the ridiculous scene, but thought better of it when she started to cry.

Through her sobbing, she managed to mutter, "Why do I even try? I can't do anything right." She brought her knees up to her chest, hugging them as she cried. The flour around her eyes and on her cheeks became sticky from the wetness.

"Eva, don't say that, all right." Eragon sat down and placed his arm around her shoulders. "We all experience off days and there is no need to give up after having one." Suddenly conscious of his ignorance of situation, he asked, "What happened anyways?"

Wiping off the paste-like flour from her face, she quietly whispered, "I burnt the chicken."

Eragon finally looked at the spit and saw the meat, wincing at the sight. "Ouch."

Becoming defensive, Eva practically shouted, "It was an accident! I was distracted and I didn't catch it in time. "She took a deep breath afterward to calm herself before she said, "I'm so sorry." Once more, she shifted her eyes to the floor in shame.

Although he was disappointed about not having chicken for dinner, he did not show it on his face nor in his actions. Instead, he tried to be optimistic. "Well, I guess we need to figure out what else can be made for tonight's dinner."

For the first time since he arrived in the kitchen, she turned to face him, locking her eyes on his. "I've got nothing in mind."

Unwilling to give up, Eragon stood up and began to snoop around the room. After looking through several cabinets and baskets, he eventually sighed. "There has to be something that can be made in such short notice."

Eva was about to deny his statement, but before she could, she finally remembered the broccoli stored in the cellar from the harvest. She knew they had milk and cheese, along with a few other ingredients, that would allow her to make a delicious broccoli soup—a soup that did not take her long to make. Suddenly out of her slump, she stood up and immediately asked Eragon to get some broccoli stalks.

Baffled by her renewed vigor, he asked, "Is there anything else you need?"

"Nope, just broccoli." After, she brushed passed him towards her room, where she would clean herself up before attempting to make the new dinner.

Meanwhile, Eragon walked over to the cellar as directed. In his mind, he could not remove the image of Eva covered in flour. Since he was alone, he managed to let out a quick chuckle before returning to the kitchen with the broccoli. A few minutes later, Eva reappeared. "I hope I brought enough, "he said, uncertain.

Quickly glancing at the two, medium sized broccoli stalks, she nodded. "That's fine." As she wiped off the counter for the second time, she asked, "Are you all done with your chores?"

"For the most part." He was about to leave the room, but Eva said something that made him come to a halt. She had told him to chop the broccoli while she heated the milk mixture. Her tone was demanding and almost rude, as if she were the boss. Indeed she was allotted the head of the kitchen, but Eragon was not one of her workers to command; he had duties elsewhere that needed to be done. In fact, he was about to perform a task issued by his Uncle before he smelled the smoke, and he wanted to get it done before dinner. That was the reason why he wanted to leave once he had gotten Eva the broccoli.

Eva looked up at Eragon when he said and did nothing. Her eyes were soft and pleading, a stark contrast to her tone of voice only moments ago. Upon looking at her, Eragon sighed and said, "Eva, Garrow needs me to…"

He was cut off when she whispered, "Please, I could really use your help, and if you do, I promise you will not regret it."

"But I really should…" the longer he stared at her, the stronger his urge to help her. He knew that she was really pressed for time and could use all the help she could get to get the dinner made. Also, it was something different and it allowed him to spend some more time with her, something he always yearned for. Eventually, he gave in. "Fine, I'll help."

Watching her pitiful visage light up with a broad smile melted his heart as he walked over to the counter to chop the broccoli. When he was finished, he let her know so that she could give him more directions. That time she was not demanding or rude sounding; that time she was peppy, excited that she had his help. When they had the soup boiling before Garrow returned from the field, they felt a huge sense of accomplishment.

"I will clean the kitchen if you go set the table," Eva said. In her hand she had a rag to clean off the counter. Eragon nodded at her request and started towards the cupboard to retrieve the dishes. Before he reached his destination, Eva suddenly told him to stop. He turned around to find her walking towards him with the rag. When she was less than a foot away from him she said, "There is something on your face." Immediately after, she raised her hand to smear the paste-like four on his face, giggling.

Eragon stood there feeling foolish, starting to regret helping Eva. Instead of thanking him nicely, she smeared him with wet flour. Just standing there helpless while she laughed, Eragon said, "I am going to get you back for this."

"Are you now?" she asked in-between her laughter. Eragon was about to lunge at her, hoping to get her into a lock to smear her face, but Eva cut him off again. "Wait, I am not yet finished."

Already covered in flour paste, Eragon rolled his eyes and waited for her to complete his look. He watched as she grabbed broccoli leaves and placed them in his hair, one situated behind his ear much like a flower would be placed on a woman. "Are you done now?" Eva nodded as another fit of laughter took hold of her. Only when she calmed herself did he speak again. "You know, I remember you telling me that I was not going to regret helping you, but now, I am starting to…"

Eragon was shoved back slightly and became startled when Eva cut him off in midsentence by pressing her lips against his. Several seconds passed before she began to pull away. She noticed how he hung his jaw open, making him look even more ridiculous, as he stared at her in shock. As he began to come to terms with what had happened, he felt himself become extremely happy. He took back all thoughts of revenge as his desire to have his lips pressed against Eva's once more became stronger. "Eva, I didn't know you…I mean that was…wonderful…Can we do that again?" His words came out randomly, but he didn't care, and neither did she as she giggled lightly and came towards him.

This time he was prepared for the impact. It was light at first and with a bit of a ticklish feeling when her lips first came into contact with his, but gradually, they were more firmly pressed. The feeling of ecstasy began to course through his veins and he wished the moment would never end. As soon as she began to pull away, he would quickly kiss her until it was as if their lips were dancing. Their pace was slow at first, but picked up as time wore on. The faster they danced the less control they had, so when their tongues lightly touched one another, they knew that they should probably slow down. Soon after, they officially pulled away and began to laugh in their merriment.