14. Preparations

Murtagh flew directly back to the city. He knew exactly who he needed to tell first, and he found her practicing healing magic with Blödhgarm.

"Willow," he called as he approached them. She looked over then jumped up to meet him.

"Well, did you find him?" Willow demanded. "What's wrong? Why hasn't he returned?"

"I certainly did find our fearless leader," Murtagh replied with a droll smile. "And he's fine, though you would hardly recognize him."

"Whatever do you mean?" Willow cried. "Has he been hurt?"

"No, no," Murtagh assured. "Ah, how shall I say it? Eragon is planning on getting married."

Willow pursed her lips, regarding him carefully. "Are you trying to be funny?"

"For once, dear sister, I am not," Murtagh said. "I'm telling you the truth. Surely you, of all people, appreciate that."

"Yes, indeed! But how! And to whom!"

"I'm not going to tell you," Murtagh said.

"Murtagh!" Willow cried, pushing against his chest with both hands. "Tell me! I can bring you down just like I do Varhog." Murtagh grinned but kept his mouth shut, and Willow huffed in exasperation.

Blödhgarm had been listening attentively to the exchange, as had Varhog, who was always near Willow wherever she happened to be.

With a small smile playing across his features Blödhgarm said, "I bet I could guess."

"I think I might have a fairly good idea as well," Varhog mildly offered.

Willow looked at the elf and Urgal then back to Murtagh with increasing levels of frustration. "You three! I'm going to die of suspense! You can't make an announcement like that and expect me to be satisfied being left in the dark!"

Murtagh smiled playfully. "Use your amazing skills of deductive reasoning, my dear," he suggested. "The Eldunarí have been focusing on that with you recently, haven't they?" The other two males chuckled.

"Oh!" Willow cried. "You're insufferable, brother!" She appealed to Varhog. "Yelloweyes! Help me! I don't know as much about Eragon's past as you. You at least saw some of him during the war. Did he love someone then?"

"I can't say for sure, Eartheyes," Varhog replied. "But based off my deductive reasoning, there really is only one female in all of Alagaёsia who could have made it to the Isle on her own. And if it really is she, it makes sense, for she and Firesword were often thrown together during the war."

Willow made a petulant face at him for not providing more information, which earned her a grin, then remained silent as she thought for a moment. "It couldn't be the elven queen, could it? She's the only Dragon Rider not here."

"Your lessons have served you well, sister," Murtagh teased, lifting his hands to ward off another shove.

"Am I right?" Willow demanded.

"Indeed," Murtagh confirmed. "Arya arrived on the Isle not two days ago. They made short work of getting engaged and are even now making their way back to the city from Lake Arya—"

"So that's why Eragon named the lake what he did!" Willow exclaimed. "You know, he has never spoken her name to me, though I knew from the moment I first saw Eragon that he was in love, and desperately at that. Much like you, brother," she said to Murtagh somewhat spitefully.

But when she saw that her words pained him, Willow gave him a hug and immediately apologized, "I'm sorry, Murtagh. I was feeling vengeful, but it was inconsiderate."

Murtagh returned the gesture and looked over her head at Varhog with a faint, teasing smile. The Urgal looked exactly as he expected—envious. Willow was oblivious.

"It's no matter, Willow. You're exactly right," Murtagh said. "Eragon has loved Arya probably from the moment he first laid eyes on her, though it was purely infatuation at first. I was there. I remember how he looked at her. He was willing to kill us all to get her to the Varden so they could save her life. I was furious that I had to take refuge with the Varden for a time, since they hated my father so much, but I'm actually glad now. It ended up being a peaceful time, and it was where I first met Nasuada. I believe she captivated me as immediately as Arya did Eragon."

"Oh, Murtagh," Willow compassionately murmured. "Two lovesick brothers. Of all the men I know, you both most deserve to be with the women you love. It's not fair you can't be with Nasuada. But this is wonderful news! Eragon finally gets to marry the woman he has long loved! When will they be back?"

"Within a few days," Murtagh said. "He requested that I make you all aware of their intentions, but I knew you should be the first to know, Willow. Marriage isn't an elven custom, and I guessed you would appreciate a break from your constant wrestling matches to head up the wedding preparations." He was teasing by the end as he cast another playful look at Varhog, who shook his head slightly. Murtagh laughed, and Willow joined him as she finally pulled away, though she was once again clueless as to the real reason for Murtagh's humor.

"I would be delighted!" Willow eagerly cried. "Although I'll still need the elves' help to make wedding clothes. You will help, won't you, Blödhgarm?"

"Of course, Willow," the elf replied. "And I know the others will as well. If our queen plans to marry a human not three decades old, we will certainly support her, though it is quite unusual, as Murtagh mentioned."

"I'm sure it was Eragon's idea to get engaged and go through with a wedding," Murtagh said. "I wouldn't plan anything big. He said they'll want to be off again as soon as possible, which is understandable. He will finally be able to satisfy twelve years of desperate longing. I'm feeling rather irked with my younger brother at the moment. The woman I love doesn't have a dragon to get her to the Isle, nor would she likely come even if she did, as the high queen of Alagaёsia and all."

Willow smiled at Murtagh. "Well, it is the man's responsibility in matters such as these. If you think Nasuada would have you, then just ask her, for goodness sakes!"

"I wish it were that easy, Willow," Murtagh sadly said. "It may be that she has forgiven me for all I did to her, indirectly as I thwarted her every effort during the Varden's campaign and directly during her imprisonment in Urû'baen, but she is the queen and mortal. I am a Dragon Rider and immortal. And I appeared to be loyal to Galbatorix during the entire war. Such considerations would surely be very significant for Nasuada in her political position."

"You'll regret it forever if you refuse to have a life with her on those grounds," Willow admonished. "But I know what you mean. It makes for a rather difficult situation. There aren't many choices as a Dragon Rider if you don't want to lose the one you love after the span of their mortal life." She sighed gloomily. "But let's not dwell on that. Blödhgarm, what does Arya look like? You and the other elves need to make her a gown, something you know she'll like and that will fit, since you know her. And make Eragon something nice too. I refuse to allow him to get married in only his breeches, no matter how hot he might be."

Blödhgarm placed an image of Arya in Willow's mind. "This is what she looks like, Willow," he said. "We will make her something she will like. She will also appreciate having flowers for her hair, which is one of the few things an elven woman will do to embellish her hair. Eragon will enjoy it too. I am happy for him. It was clear to all of us who protected him and Saphira during the war how he felt, though none of us approved. Time has shown me the folly of my opinion. He has remained as true and devoted to her, if not more so, as any elf would have, though she has never been here. The fact that he still left Alagaёsia, though he knew it most likely meant he would never again see her, showed great maturity and self-denial for one so young. He deserves to be happy. As does she."

Willow nodded, murmuring, "She's so beautiful. I know just the flower I'm going to gather, but I'll wait until the morning they're supposed to arrive so they'll be fresh. What else should we do? Eat, obviously. It would help if we knew when they're coming back. I suppose we should prepare a large feast regardless."

"Though marriage is not an elven tradition, as Murtagh rightly stated, the elves will no doubt wish to celebrate this union. We will provide music, singing, and dancing," Blödhgarm offered.

"And we will no doubt join in," Willow said. "Won't we, Yelloweyes? Murtagh?" The males made incoherent, noncommittal grunts, and Willow giggled. "The dwarves will see to it that you dance. Come, Yelloweyes. Let's go find the others and spread this joyous news. Then we must make our way to the kitchens and ensure that we have enough food ready for a proper feast."

-:-:-

Willow grabbed Varhog's hand, and he rose from where he had been sitting on the ground. Before turning to go, Willow said to Blödhgarm, "Thank you for the lesson, Blödhgarm. Learning the healing art is absolutely fascinating. It's my favorite use of magic. Except for using it to dry my hair. I suppose you might understand that with all of your lovely fur." She laughed again, and Blödhgarm's cat-like purr was his amused response.

"My pleasure, Willow," he replied. "You are the most adept student I have ever had. Your discipline, determination, and dogged practice have made you the equal if not superior of elves five times your age. Keep it up and you will be capable of performing astonishing feats of healing."

Willow beamed at him then said to Murtagh, "Let them measure you, brother. You're the closest to Eragon's size. He needs to look princely for his wedding, which won't happen if his clothes are sloppy and ill-fitted. Oh, and you should be the one to solemnize their union, since it's a human custom after all and you are Eragon's brother. Prepare accordingly. "

Murtagh nodded affectionately as Willow turned and tugged on Varhog's hand. They began walking in the direction of the training fields. She kept ahold of his hand in a friendly gesture and gushed, "I'm so excited I feel like I'm going to burst! You've met Arya, haven't you?"

"Aye," Varhog replied.

"Did you suspect that she felt this way?"

"No, Eartheyes. At the time I don't think she did. At least, there was no perceptible evidence to a thickheaded male such as myself. You might have seen it straightaway with your female powers of perception."

Willow laughed obligingly. "Perhaps. Here are the dwarves and Tomath. Where are Grintuk and Hanin? Oh, there they are. Call them, won't you please? You're louder." She looked up at him teasingly and found that he was already gazing down at her. He quickly glanced away and took a deep breath in preparation. She dropped his hand to cover her ears.

"Ho there, you fools!" Varhog bellowed. "Come quick! Willow has some news!"

Though the elf and Kull were farther away, they made it to Willow and Varhog more quickly than the two short-legged dwarves and the young human boy. "What is it, Willow?" Hanin asked.

"Did Murtagh find Eragon?" Knilf added.

Willow laughed. "Yes, brothers! He most certainly did! And the reason Eragon has been delayed in returning is that none other than the love of his life showed up on the island and he's spending a few days with her before returning here for their wedding. Can you believe it? Eragon is getting married!"

"What? No!" Knilf cried. "How splendid! Well, who is she then?"

"Arya, queen of the elves," Willow proudly announced.

"The queen?" Hanin said. "How interesting."

"Arya, is it?" Knilf said. "I remember mine time with her in Ellesméra before coming here to the Isle. It was most pleasant, but I do recall that she seemed rather forlorn. Did not you have the same opinion, mine brothers?" he wondered of Varhog and Hanin, the only other two Riders who had undergone the first part of their training with Arya and the Eldunarí Eragon had left with her.

Varhog nodded, and Hanin replied, "Yes, and she once told me how deeply Fírnen, her dragon, wished to be with the other dragons. The brief time he had to interact with others of his species was hardly satisfactory. However, I never would have guessed that some of her melancholy had something to do with unrequited love. I am eager to hear her account."

"As am I," Willow agreed. "Murtagh said they would most likely arrive here in the city within the next several days, and he charged me with preparing the celebration. We need to hold it in the Great Hall so the dragons can be present, which means I need your help scouring it from floor to ceiling." This proposal was met with a number of good-natured groans.

"Come now, brothers," Willow chided. "This is the most momentous occasion we've ever had cause to celebrate. Besides, thanks to me, the Great Hall and kitchens really aren't that dirty. This whole place would no doubt be a slovenly hovel if not for my influence. Thank goodness another female Rider has come to offset the habits of all you males. I'm only teasing, of course, but I really do need your help. Can I count on it?"

-:-:-

Of course all of her 'brothers' immediately agreed. Every one of them loved Willow exactly as the sister they referred to her as, and one a good deal more, though she had not a clue of his true feelings.

She took his hand again and said as she had before, "Come, Yelloweyes! To the kitchens! I'll leave the rest of you to your chores. Use magic however you wish and have your dragons help you get all the way up to the ceilings, just make sure you do a better job than you ever before have."

She once again dragged Varhog off, and they made their way to the Great Hall and the kitchens adjoining the Hall on one side. She went to one counter where a pile of fresh fruit lay. "I love that fresh plants grow on the Isle year-round!" she enthusiastically declared. "But all of these melons and berries are my absolute favorite!" She popped a raspberry in her mouth and grabbed a cantaloupe, beginning to expertly cut it while Varhog readied all of the ingredients needed for bread.

Willow glanced over at him. "More bread? It seems you're always making bread."

Varhog nodded. "Because I eat more of it than anyone. Except Grintuk, perhaps. I would hate to make the others constantly responsible for my insatiable appetite."

"Well, it's for the best. Yours is better than anyone else's."

"Save yours," Varhog insisted.

"Only because I learned from you, silly!" Willow teased. "You've always been a fantastic teacher."

Varhog smiled affectionately. "And you have always been an amazing student, Willow. Didn't you hear what Blödhgarm said?"

"Mm-hmm," she mumbled around a bite of cantaloupe. After swallowing, Willow commented, "You know, you can do everything a wife could do for you equally as well, if not better than she would be able to. Laundry, cooking, gardening. Where will that leave you? A lonely though self-sufficient bachelor ram?" She laughed at her picture.

Varhog's smile remained, but his voice grew more serious. "But I couldn't bear my own children," he countered.

"Good point," Willow agreed. "But that would leave her precious little to do."

"Precious little?" he wondered. "That seems the hardest, most important work there is."

"I suppose you're right." After transferring all of the cut melon to a bowl and eating several more pieces, Willow cleaned up the area, washed her hands, and began taking stock of the goods already in the pantries. As they worked, she said, "Yelloweyes?"

"Yes?"

"Have you ever thought about the problem Murtagh mentioned?" she thoughtfully asked. "I mean, of finding a spouse. Or a mate, I suppose, as you would say? I know I was joking about it a moment ago, but now I'm being serious."

"I have," Varhog said.

Willow gave him an exasperated smile when he didn't elaborate more fully. "And what conclusions have you come to?" she pressed.

Varhog was silent a long while, grateful he was doing something with his hands—kneading the bread dough—that allowed him to keep his eyes down. "It's a difficult situation," he finally answered. "Unless we Riders can marry within our own ranks, it seems unlikely that any of us would ever take mates. I shudder to think of the dilemma Murtagh finds himself in of loving a mortal woman who will one day die, while he will remain as an immortal Dragon Rider. I know Firesword has also often struggled with the issue, as have Grintuk and the dwarves. Hanin could find a female elf who will also be immortal whether she is a Dragon Rider or not, but the rest of us don't have the same luxury with other members of our races."

"It's depressing to think about never getting married," Willow sadly remarked. "Though the friendship among the Riders is wonderful, it would be so lonely to endure endless years without a companion like that. Don't you think?"

"Yes," he quietly said.

"Well, you were already twenty-two when Black Thunder hatched for you. That's old enough to think about taking a mate. Hadn't you thought about it?"

"No, Eartheyes," Varhog replied with a quick look at her. "I was never interested in taking a mate before."

"Before what?" Willow innocently queried.

Varhog shook his head. How did she always ask the exact questions he couldn't answer? "Before coming here," he hastily said so she wouldn't suspect the truth.

"Right." Willow drew it out in an exaggerated manner that made him chuckle, though he said no more, and she smiled blissfully like she always did whenever he laughed.

Varhog risked looking at her again so he could see it then returned his eyes to his task. Willow set down the scrap of parchment she had been writing on and walked over to stand by him. She took a section of the dough and began helping him knead it as she observed, "Well, maybe we don't have anything to worry about. Now that Eragon is marrying an elf, there might be more hope for us Riders of actually marrying within our own ranks, without regard to the differences of our races."

"Perhaps," Varhog agreed.

"That would be a relief. It's hard to imagine marrying Tomath. He's so young and sees me as mother."

Varhog laughed, and Willow looked up at him with another joyful smile. He kept his face impressively blank and asked, "Does a great age difference bother you?"

"I don't know," she said. "I'd never thought about getting married before I came here. I was too young and my life was so full of misery. It just never occurred to me."

"Have you thought about it since?"

"Yes," she said. "Now I'm the right age. I don't know how the immortality of the Riders will affect my body, but I suspect I won't have the ability to bear children indefinitely. I think I'd like to be a mother."

"You would make a good one."

"Thank you, Yelloweyes."

Varhog shrugged. He had very mixed feelings about this conversation. On the one hand, he was desperate to know Willow's every wish and answer. On the other hand, it filled him with such deep, aching sadness that he was worried he would begin to cry, and how would he ever explain that? "Have you ever thought about what you would like in a husband?" he asked with an attempt at nonchalance.

Willow smiled. "Which young woman hasn't?" she said. "Do you want to know?"

"Why not?" he said, grateful it sounded less wishful than his previous question.

"Well, now that I'm so tall, I've thought it would be nice if he were taller," Willow began. "Hardly a very deep and important qualification, however." She laughed softly and didn't look up, so she missed his look of hope that he fulfilled at least one of her desires.

"I want him to be my friend so we're comfortable being with each other," Willow continued. "It would be nice if he made me laugh. It's important to me that he be intelligent and wise. It's hard to imagine marrying someone who isn't a Dragon Rider. That's such a central part of my life, and I'm not sure someone who's not would ever comprehend what the bond is like. I can see how it might lead to jealously if he misunderstood." Varhog nodded, and this time Willow thoughtfully looked up. "Why, I do believe I've pretty much just described you, Yelloweyes!"

Varhog froze then just as quickly resumed his work in almost the same manner as before. If Willow noticed his reaction, she didn't let on but made things worse by saying, "You're tall, you're my best friend, you make me laugh, and you're the wisest ram I've ever met, though I've only met two." She paused and amended, "The wisest male then. And you're a Dragon Rider."

Varhog kept his eyes on the bread dough. "But I'm an Urgal. And you're a human."

Her thoughtful look did not leave as she considered this. "True. I can understand if you would object to such a thing. My race has always been incredibly prejudiced and cruel toward yours."

Varhog mentally panicked. That was not what he'd meant. He had actually meant exactly the opposite—that he thought Willow would never be able to overlook the most blatant obstacle between them. But how could he ever confess that to her?

Willow saved him by saying, "Your turn now. What traits do you consider important in a mate?" Well, maybe she hadn't exactly saved him, for now Varhog would be forced to describe her in perfect detail, and she would obviously notice. Her honesty would never allow him off the hook.

Varhog nonetheless persevered, "It would be nice if she was happy."

"What do you mean?" Willow asked.

"I mean that she would smile and laugh a lot," Varhog bravely clarified. Willow raised her eyebrows, but he only noticed in his peripheral vision, for he couldn't bring himself to look directly at her.

"Is that all?" Willow wondered.

"No, Eartheyes," he said without elaborating.

"Why so reticent today, Yelloweyes?" she playfully demanded.

Varhog smiled. "It's hard to explain," he lamely confessed.

"You could always try," Willow invited.

"Yes, but I'm not going to," Varhog firmly said. "If you must know, I want my mate to be brave and strong, determined and persistent, and friendly and sweet. I want someone who wants to be a mother, since I'd like to be a sire." There was so much more Varhog could have said, but he knew he'd already given her far too many clues.

"Hmmm," Willow shrewdly murmured, shaping her dough into a loaf. "That's interesting."

Varhog was infinitely grateful she said no more, though he knew she probably guessed a good deal. She looked up at him and found him gazing back down at her. "Why are you looking at me like that, Varhog?" Willow softly asked.

Varhog tried to evaluate what his face was expressing and determined that it must be a combination of affection and consternation. They were speaking the ancient language, as they and all the others almost always did, and he attempted to say the first thing that came to his mind, "Because you have—" But the magic of the language prevented him from speaking the innocuous falsehood. So he sighed, switched to the common tongue, and finished, "Because you have something on your nose." He knew the switch was a dead giveaway that he hadn't revealed the true reason he was looking at her like he was.

Willow regarded him perceptively as she giggled and said, "I do not!" She reached up with one flour-covered hand and rubbed her nose.

"Now you do," he pointed out, able to once again speak the language that allowed no lies. "Here. I'll get it for you." He carefully reached one of his own flour-covered fingers to her nose and succeeded only in adding a bit of dough to the smear on her face. "All better," he declared.

She laughed in delight, leaning forward and rubbing her nose on the sleeve of his shirt. "Is it gone? Not that I trust you."

Varhog chuckled. "It looks good on you, Eartheyes. You'll start a new trend. Everyone will go around with flour and bread dough on their noses when they see how becoming it is."

Willow used her own sleeve to wipe her nose and shoved him by pushing her whole body into his side, though he didn't budge in the slightest. He only laughed again, which brought the usual smile to Willow's face.

"Why do you always act like you love hearing me laugh so much?" Varhog wondered in a moment of brash courage.

"Because I do love it," Willow mischievously replied. "Maybe I'll tell you about it sometime, but I have to have a secret too."

"Fair enough," Varhog quickly allowed, so grateful she was letting him off the hook unlike he had expected. He finished forming his last loaf and covered them all with a cloth. "What do we need to do next?" he said, walking to the nearest sink to wash his hands. "Put me to work, Eartheyes. I'll do anything for you."

Willow's eyes flitted to his, and Varhog saw that she suspected his words had more than one meaning. Her mouth curved up in the smile he loved so much, but she once again didn't call him out. "Come along. We need to visit the gardens." And off they went.

-:-:-:-