14. Lake Fläm
The Riders spent the next several days flying, with Willow and Varhog on their own dragons, Angela and the werecat on Saphira, and the married couples on Thorn or Fírnen. One evening while around their fire, Varhog spoke during a moment of silence. He was so often silent himself that everyone turned to him in surprise.
"I thought it would be wise and helpful to familiarize you with some of the customs of my people," he quietly explained, though everyone easily heard his deep voice.
They all nodded their assent, so Varhog continued, "Firesword and Arya will be given a dwelling to stay in during our visit because he is so highly revered by the Urgralgra. Lady Nightstalker and Murtagh will be shown equal respect. Mooneater," he addressed Angela, "you are also greatly honored by my people. If you wish to have a hut, you will not be denied, but my understanding is that you are quite content to be left to your own devices."
Angela nodded her agreement with a cheerful grin. "I'll be here and there," she mysteriously replied.
"Willow, I'm not sure what to expect with regard to you. They will treat you tolerantly due to your station as Rider, but as a human and a female without the standing of Lady Nightstalker, the mate of Firesword, or Mooneater—who has quite the reputation among the Urgralgra—they may not pay you much attention beyond that. I suppose they will expect you to stay with the other Riders. My family would consider it strange to have you as a guest unless they were aware of our relationship, but I'm still not sure how I will go about telling them I mean to take you as my mate. Whenever that time comes, everyone here needs to be prepared for the possibility that fighting will occur, but stay out of it as much as you can. This is something I must settle with my people. If Willow is expected to fight, then I ask you all not to interfere unless it is clear that she is about to be killed. Short of that, any interference will only make matters worse."
Varhog changed the topic. "Greetings among Urgals are based off shows of friendship and respect in the case of allies or with a show of strength and dominance in the case of foes. To show friendship we raise our chins, which is an indication that we don't mean to ram you with our horns. Raising your fists to your forehead is a show of respect. I will greet my kinsmen with loud bellowing and ramming of the horns, as is customary between war chiefs. Though I am technically not one, as a Dragon Rider, they view me as of the same ranking. With the exception of Firesword, Mooneater, Lady Nightstalker, and Murtagh, who have all interacted more extensively with those of my kind, when I introduce each of you, you need do nothing more than raise your chins. You others can extend the show of respect if you wish, though you wouldn't be thought less of if you don't.
"Life in the village is not much different from what you would expect to see in a rural human village. There will be children running about playing and women washing, cooking, sewing, tending gardens—things of that nature. At this time of year, they will be preparing food for winter. Not many will be able to communicate with you. Those who can will use the common tongue. My family all speak the common tongue, and they will likely welcome you and involve you in village life during our stay. They will also be willing to help with translation if you desire to speak with someone else, but no one will look unkindly on quiet, unobtrusive observation of our ways.
"The older rams with mates and families spend most of the day hunting for food, seeing to any crops they might have, or overseeing training for the younger rams. These fight and test themselves in contests to prepare for the Games, where they can prove their eligibility to take a mate. The rams would welcome the opportunity to test themselves against Firesword and Murtagh, and anyone else willing to stand against them. When they are not thus engaged, they will be with their families, helping their mates or playing with the children. In the evenings, the families gather either in their own huts or as a whole to hear stories and histories of our race. We should arrive there tomorrow midmorning. Does anyone have any questions?"
Eragon, who was brushing Arya's hair, asked, "What if Willow proves herself worthy of you and they approve of a union? What then?"
"There will be a simple ceremony. Some chanting, a ritual. Nothing like Lady Nightstalker's celebration. Then they will hold a huge feast and engage in contests, fights, and games. That's all."
Arya asked, "What if they do not find her worthy? I know that won't change your intentions. Will they drive her away?"
"Then I will part ways with my people," Varhog gravely responded. "If they cannot accept her and a union between us, they are disowning me in the same moment, and I fear what may happen. I am determined not to let that happen, if at all possible."
Angela said, "I would hear the stories of your people to see if I can learn anything that will help me in my purpose on this journey."
Varhog chortled quietly. "They will tell you stories, Mooneater. And they will hear yours. Seek the elders and the Herndall. I'll translate, if need be."
"You needn't," Angela said. "I can speak Urgralish just fine." Varhog nodded.
Willow was staring pensively into the fire.
Varhog asked, "What of you, Eartheyes? Do you not have any questions?"
She looked at him. "No, Yelloweyes. None I haven't already asked. But may we ride together once more tomorrow? Would it be best not to be seen like that before you announce your intentions?"
"We can ride together. There is nowhere within the village for all five dragons to land at once. The village square would accommodate a few if they landed one after the other and moved out of the way, but I'm planning to land outside of the forest near the lake and dismount before anyone notices. Don't stand too close to me or give any clues of our relationship." She nodded and returned her gaze to the fire, which didn't hide the shimmering in her eyes as tears threatened to appear.
Varhog did not take his eyes off her, and he noticed her reaction. "Does anyone have anything else they want to ask?"
No one did, so Varhog made one final request. "Eartheyes, will you walk with me for a moment?"
Willow nodded, rising gracefully and striding away from the fire. Varhog also stood and followed after her.
-:-:-
Willow walked far enough away to be out of sight and hearing of the others. Varhog remained by her side until she stopped and turned to face him. He closed the distance between them and put his arms around her. "I'm sorry it has to be this way," he gently said.
"Thank you. I understand why it must be." She rested her head against him and listened to his heart. "I hope we can quickly overcome this obstacle. I hate the idea of being apart. And I just thought of a question. If they approve our union and we enter it, how should I act then? You have already told me that Urgals aren't open about affection. Will I still need to keep my distance and not touch you?"
"Affectionate touch between mates is common, especially when the couple is newlywed. You needn't fear standing by my side or touching my hands or arms, nor even embracing me as we now are."
"Very well. What if they demand to know what I'm thinking in accepting you as a mate or thinking I could have you? If I'm honest, would I make matters worse?"
"What would you be inclined to say if asked that?"
"That I want to be your mate because you are my dearest friend, I love you, I know you can protect me, and I want to share my life with you."
"None of that would make matters worse," Varhog said, his voice revealing his deep emotions. "Be yourself, Willow. That's how you won me."
"I know I can be myself," she said. "I wish you could kiss me right now or the other way around. I know why we can't, but it seems like it would somehow help me feel better. What if we never got to for some reason?"
"We will get to, Willow. I promise. Whatever happens in my village, I will kiss you as my mate. I swear it." Varhog tilted her chin up with one finger and gently kissed her forehead, which was the first time he had ever kissed her anywhere.
Her stomach did its increasingly familiar flutter. "I believe you," Willow whispered. "I will let that be enough for now."
After a long pause, during which her agitation grew, she whispered even more quietly than before, "Will you hold me in your arms tonight? Just so I can feel their reassuring strength and have you near? I think I'll sleep better."
"It would be my honor, Eartheyes," Varhog said. "Shall we return to the others or stay here?"
"Return," she decided. "Let's go now. I'm weary."
-:-:-
Willow and Varhog walked hand in hand back to the others, pausing briefly so he could announce, "We are retiring. Good night."
They made their way to where Sunset and Black Thunder were resting with their front paws overlapping. Varhog grabbed a few bundles from his saddlebags. "For your comfort not mine," he explained as he spread out a blanket on the ground near the dragons' heads. "Urgralgra rams grow accustomed to sleeping on the ground when hunting." He took her hand once again and sat, inviting her down with him. "How do you imagine this happening?" he asked in mild confusion.
"Lie down and get comfortable, then I will too," Willow suggested.
Varhog lay flat on his back, stuffing one of the bundles under his head. "I can sleep like this all night without moving," he said, looking up at her.
Willow gathered her hair and held it up while she lowered herself down, pressing her body alongside his and aiming her head for his upper chest. She draped her hair over his shoulder while folding her other arm underneath her. Then she rested her top arm on his chest and bent one knee slightly so it was on his leg. "I'm comfortable," she murmured.
Varhog grabbed the other blanket he had retrieved and pulled it over her all the way up to her neck. He put one arm over hers where it was resting on his chest and laid his hand on her shoulder. "Is this acceptable?" he asked.
"Mmm-hmm," she sleepily muttered. "Thank you, Varhog."
Varhog could tell that she drifted off to sleep quickly by how her breathing slowed and deepened. He lay awake looking at the stars long after the others had also retired, praying to the gods of his people that they would help him protect the woman in his arms and win the approval of his people in taking her as his mate.
-:-:-
They passed over Lake Fläm the next morning, just as Varhog had predicted. My village is on the other side nearest the mountains, Varhog said to Willow in her mind. They had communicated so frequently in this manner during the past month that it now felt as normal as speaking aloud. He loved the warm, bright tone of her mind but noticed it was somewhat more subdued than normal.
I'm nervous, Willow admitted. But well rested. Thank you for letting me sleep next to you last night. It will be nice to sleep like that every night once we're married. When we actually are sleeping, that is, and not otherwise occupied. He felt her teasing humor.
Varhog tightened his arms around her. Yes, both will be nice. To say the least, I'm sure.
Willow said nothing else to him the remainder of the flight, which lasted less than an hour. When they were close enough to see a small group of villagers that, at the sight of the dragons' approach, had begun to gather at the edge of the trees behind which their village lay, Varhog said, We may not be able to avoid them seeing us. I hesitate to ask Black Thunder to hold back. I should land first since I'm from here, but perhaps some dust from the ground—which will billow up as he lands—will obscure us from sight. Don't worry, Willow. All will be well.
Will it look too obvious if I part from you after we have landed? Willow asked. Should I stay nearby but not too close?
You wait for the others. I will approach my people.
After mentally communicating with the other dragons, Black Thunder led the way in their descent toward the clearing. As Varhog had hoped, clouds of dust billowed up under the gusts of Black Thunder's wings as he back-flapped to slow himself. He landed with a great boom, and the earth shuddered under the impact. The villagers cheered. It was the first time Varhog had returned to his people since he had left for Ellesméra, and Black Thunder was far larger.
Willow dismounted and walked a short distance away while Varhog climbed down and headed toward his people. Willow hung back and waited for the other dragons to land. Once the other Riders and members of their company were all on the ground, they moved together toward where Varhog stood in front of an ever growing crowd of Urgals. News of the dragons' unprecedented arrival seemed to be spreading quickly.
The others organized themselves in a loose line, with Eragon closest to Varhog and Arya by his side. Nasuada and Murtagh were next, then Angela and Solembum the cat. Willow stood at the end, the only one without a pair.
-:-:-
Willow immediately identified the Kull in the crowd since they usually stood at least a foot above any of the other tallest Urgals. The Kull talking to Varhog appeared to be the tallest. She guessed this was his uncle, the war chief Nar Garzhvog. As Garzhvog raised his arms in the air and bellowed, Williw found herself unconsciously retreating into her mind to observe him from the calculated perspective of a fight. Varhog echoed the greeting back to his uncle, then they both lowered their heads and butted their horns together. Even though Garzhvog was so much taller—by over a foot—Varhog did not budge from his position at the powerful smash. He appeared to be just as strong.
Varhog greeted another ram next, one who bore him a striking resemblance, and Willow thought it might be the brother he had mentioned before, Yarbog. They skipped the bellow and greeted by butting heads. Then Varhog reached a proud, late middle-aged female Urgal, who placed her hands on either side of his face to pull it down, closing her eyes and pressing her forehead against his in a loving manner. Could she be his mother?
Varhog then lifted his chin and raised his voice enough for all to hear, speaking in Urgralish. The only words Willow recognized from the indecipherable jumble of guttural grunts and clicks were "Dragon Riders." There must have been a hundred Urgals gathered in the clearing at that point, and a steady stream continued to swell their numbers.
Now Varhog turned to the Riders behind him. He switched to the common tongue and began his introductions, addressing Garzhvog. He started with Eragon, who lifted his chin and raised his fists to his forehead at Nar Garzhvog.
The war chief said, "Firesword. It is an honor to see you again. And you, Flametongue," he said to Saphira, who dipped her head from where she was standing behind Eragon.
Varhog introduced Arya as "Firesword's mate, Arya." She raised her chin at the war chief, looking regal.
Nar Garzhvog said, "I'm glad you have found a worthy mate, Firesword. It has been many years since we last met, Arya. Welcome back to the Bolvek tribe." Arya murmured her thanks.
Before Varhog could introduce Nasuada, Nar Garzhvog raised his arms and bellowed at her, as he had with Varhog and with Nasuada herself once before.
She smiled and said, "I will decline the opportunity to butt heads with you, Nar Garzhvog, but I thank you for the honor of your welcome."
Garzhvog chuckled and replied, "Lady Nightstalker, it is also an honor to have you visit this village. You are revered here for your role in bringing down the lack-horned betrayer and honoring your promises to our people."
Willow knew from Varhog that Nar Garzhvog had great reason to hate Galbatorix, since the late king had killed his mate.
Nasuada said, "Thank you. I hope that at some point during this visit we can discuss certain matters of state and how they are affecting our races. But until then, this is my new mate. Murtagh, meet Nar Garzhvog. Garzhvog, Murtagh."
"We have met," Garzhvog calmly said. "When Murtagh brought the last dragon egg to hatch for the Urgralgra. You never let on of your feelings for Lady Nightstalker."
Murtagh grinned. "No, I didn't. I finally came to my senses and asked her to marry me. Well met, Nar Garzhvog."
Varhog had not moved from his position at the beginning of the row, since Nar Garzhvog seemed to know all the people anyway. Garzhvog greeted Angela in a friendly way as "Mooneater," with a request to hear one of her stories during her visit. Then he stopped in front of Willow.
Varhog walked over and said, "This is Willow. She is a Dragon Rider on the Isle. Willow, this is my uncle, Nar Garzhvog, war chief of the Bolvek tribe."
Willow lifted her chin and said nothing.
Garzhvog stiffly greeted, "As a Dragon Rider, you are welcome, human." A light breeze blew around her in his direction as he turned back toward the crowd. He and Varhog stiffened at the same moment, their nostrils flaring. A look of annoyance briefly crossed Varhog's face, but he cleared his expression before Garzhvog noticed.
Garzhvog slowly turned back toward Willow, who hadn't moved. He spoke to Varhog but kept his eyes on Willow, a flinty look in them. "She smells of you. And you reek of her. Why?" he demanded.
Varhog kept his face blank as he replied, "We sometimes flew together from the Isle when her dragon was needed to carry other passengers."
Nar Garzhvog counted the dragons and people. "If the Riders with mates flew together, there would have been an extra dragon." He seemed to think of a terrible idea at the mention of mates and turned his steely gaze on Varhog, who did not react in any manner. "What is the meaning of this?" he said in an ominous tone.
Varhog seemed to recognize this as the unwelcome moment—given the already hostile manner of his uncle—of announcing his intentions. He firmly said, "I mean to take this woman as my mate."
Garzhvog was deathly still. Willow could sense the tension in him increasing by the moment and saw that he was at a loss for words. Finally after a very long, painful silence he said, "That is impossible. Such an abomination will not be allowed."
Garzhvog turned to go, obviously feeling that ended the discussion, but Varhog stood his ground and said, "You are wrong, uncle. I will have her."
Garzhvog turned his head back toward Varhog, glaring down at him in rage. "You dare defy me, nephew?" he rumbled. Mutters of disbelief and shock were issuing forth from the crowd as those nearest the exchange passed the news back to those farther away.
"I have proven myself worthy to take a mate. I chose her, and she accepted. Nothing in the customs of our race prevents me from choosing a human," Varhog evenly replied.
"What is not explicitly written is clearly implied," Garzhvog spat. "The Urgralgra do not mate with filthy, disgusting humans. I—we—will not allow the first Dragon Rider of our kind to desecrate the pride of our race in this heinous way."
"It is not a desecration. She is worthy to have me. I will leave and never return if this is your final judgment," Varhog warned, dangerous in his own right. Willow noticed the proud female, who had been one of the first to greet Varhog, despairingly clasp her hands at his words.
Something snapped in Garzhvog. "What do you mean, worthy to have you!" he roared. "No human will ever be worthy to have an Urgal. No human would ever accept an Urgal, as biased and blind as they all are. What trickery is this, Varhog? Is this woman a witch to have fooled you like this?"
"She is worthy. You know nothing of her. Your own biases are blinding you right now," Varhog replied, calm as ever. "She can defeat me in single combat, something no Urgralgra female present would be able to claim."
"She can defeat you?" Garzhvog scoffed in angry disbelief. Varhog's brother did the same, as well as a number of other rams near enough to hear and understand their words. "She can best you! You could crush this puny human under your heel! Do not mock me by suggesting such nonsense."
"She can, Garzhvog. She has done it dozens of times. Again, something no female Urgralgra would ever be able to claim and very few rams besides. She is worthy of me, and I have earned the right to choose my mate."
Garzhvog swung his massive head back toward Willow and trained his eyes on her. "You would dare presume yourself worthy of one of our finest rams, human?" He spat at her feet. Varhog clenched his fists, lowered his head, and rammed his uncle in the side with massive force, bowling him over, so intense was his fury.
"Do not disrespect her like that," Varhog rumbled with lethal rage in his eyes.
Garzhvog sprang to his feet, his eyes flashing, and acted like he would retaliate but apparently changed his mind. Scowling again at Willow, he ordered, "Answer me."
With no fear in her voice Willow simply said, "Yes."
Garzhvog spluttered, "Why would you want to be the mate of an Urgralgra ram, human? Surely the thought is just as repulsive to you as it is to me that he claims wanting you!"
"No, it's not," Willow responded. "I want to be Varhog's mate because he is my dearest friend and I love him."
Garzhvog regarded her with a deadly glint in his eye. "You lie."
"No, I never do," Willow said. "If you knew me, you would know that. I am worthy to choose him as my mate, according to the customs of your own race. I have defeated him numerous times in hand-to-hand fighting, something, as he said, most Urgals would not be capable of."
"Is that so?" Garzhvog hissed. "We shall see." Then he turned to the crowd and barked some clipped phrases in Urgralish.
Varhog's voice was suddenly in all their minds, He asks if there are any eligible females present who would like to step forward and attempt to stake a claim on me. He seeks to disprove me and Willow. I will fight them. This will be good, Willow. It will make your own triumph all the more impressive.
About two dozen females, ranging from between nineteen to thirty, made their way to the front of the crowd where the war chief stood.
Varhog translated as his uncle again spoke in the language of the Urgals. This ram means to take this human female as his mate. She claims she can defeat him in hand-to-hand combat, and he claims no Urgralgra female would be capable. You have all indicated a willingness to face him to stake your own claim on him. Garzhvog turned to Varhog, who continued to translate. If one of these females could defeat you, would you abandon this madness at once?
Varhog growled his short reply as he said in their minds, Yes, uncle, I would.
Garzhvog's final remark was, Good. Then let's put an end to this.
The women were tall, some nearly as tall as Varhog himself. One was Kull. Most were between Willow's height and Varhog's. Willow was able to see in them the same beauty she saw in Varhog. Some, she guessed, would have been thought of as very lovely by their own race, with long hair and bright eyes and straight noses. Indeed, with her unprejudiced eyes, Willow thought them pretty. Others might not have been considered as attractive, but they universally eyed her with revulsion and loathing. Varhog they regarded with admiration and desire, clearly all wanting him as their mate. Willow supposed he must have known them all before he came to the Isle, though the youngest would have been only small children at the time. She felt no jealousy of these would-be competitors, knowing they didn't stand a chance against Varhog, just as she hadn't in their early days of sparring.
"How would you have me fight, uncle?" Varhog asked. "Need I dress down?"
"Stay as you are," Garzhvog tersely instructed. "I wish for this to be over with."
The female Urgals formed a line of sorts, and Varhog walked over to face the first one, muttering a greeting—he did know her—which she returned. When Garzhvog indicated that they begin, Varhog lunged forward and caught her before she could even react. Apparently he too wished for this to be over with. She struggled commendably but futilely against his implacable strength, and he forced her to the ground, where she quickly submitted. There was no hope.
Time after time, almost before they could even think to dodge, Varhog attacked and grabbed them all in some type of inescapable hold, forcing them to admit defeat. It was almost amusing how outmatched they were. Willow marveled that she was able to beat him and knew the only reason was their many years of practice. What was happening now looked all too familiar. She recognized it from their first many months of fighting, when Varhog had always caught her within seconds.
It was over in minutes. None of the females even came close to besting Varhog.
Garzhvog cursed angrily. "Now you must defeat any ram who wishes to oppose the monstrosity you are proposing," he said, enraged. "This thing cannot be!"
Since the Riders and those with them heard his remark, Varhog didn't translate as Garzhvog turned and shouted over the crowd.
Dozens of rams came forward, obviously determined to keep Varhog from going forward with his plans. Many were Kull. Willow was worried, but when she looked at Varhog, she felt more confident. She recognized his fighting face, which actually wasn't much different from the expressionless mask he wore most of the time. But with his fighting mask, the biggest difference was that his eyes were also blank and emotionless. Even against the Kull, Varhog would still be superior, just as he always was when fighting Grintuk on the Isle. He could anticipate their moves and understand how everything around him and his opponent would affect the fight. Garzhvog must have underestimated how much his fighting abilities had improved as a Dragon Rider.
Varhog faced off with the first one, and it was much like the first female Urgal, only the ram was able to struggle longer because of his greater strength. Even so, within minutes, he admitted defeat. Time and again, Varhog took down his opponents, always knowing how to adjust for the Kull. He was so calm and confident that he barely got winded.
Willow paid very close attention from her fighting mind. She calculated all of the differences she would need to consider if she had to face a Kull, including the extra length of his arms, body, and legs; his heavier head and how that would affect his balance; and his thicker neck. She absorbed and processed as much information and stimuli as possible.
The second round of fighting took much longer because there were so many more rams than females who had stepped forward—only single females of the age to take a mate had been invited—but Varhog finally defeated all who opposed him. He was dripping sweat from his effort and his clothes were completely drenched, but his breathing, while heavy, was controlled. His final opponent had been Garzhvog himself, who had sprung forward in fury after Varhog had forced the last of his foes into submission. Varhog now had him pinned to the ground where he had admitted defeat after many long minutes of struggling.
In a severe voice Varhog demanded, "Have I now proved myself, uncle? Can I take this woman with your approval?"
The Herndall had been summoned and were also observing this momentous occasion from one side, muttering disapprovingly among themselves and occasionally shaking the carved staffs in their gnarled hands.
One of the ancient dams from the clan's ruling council chanted, "You have proven a most formidable foe, Dragon Rider Varhog. None in our tribe could stand against you, not even your uncle, our war chief, for which you should have any mate of your choosing. But a human? Such a thing cannot be! You say she can defeat you?"
Varhog jerked his head down in a nod while letting Garzhvog up. "She can. Easily. And she is prepared to demonstrate it to prove her claim on me. Will you give me your word that if she can, you will sanction our union?"
The muttering resumed as the twelve old females discussed among themselves once more. Garzhvog stalked over and added many heated comments, gesturing angrily with his hands.