20. Willow

The luncheon was modest, and Eragon guessed the greater effort had gone into the feast Willow had mentioned, which would take place not long after lunch. It was a jovial affair, and all present were glad to have Eragon back. They were even gladder that he was so much happier—smiling, laughing, and joking as they had never before witnessed.

The fare was similar to what Eragon and Arya had subsisted on in the previous few days, but it was more abundant. Eragon ate heartily, attempting to fill himself and knowing he would be hungry again even if they ate dinner in an hour.

After the meal, Willow insisted Eragon bathe. "You smell as if you've been traveling for four days," she bluntly stated. "And you should shave for your wedding."

Eragon absently rubbed his cheek, having all but forgotten the growth there, and sniffed himself. He grimaced in agreement. "Very well. You're like the younger sister I never had," he said to Willow with a grateful expression.

-:-:-

Arya found it odd that she had never thought Eragon smelled unpleasant in their time together. She wondered what that could mean, if anything.

Willow then respectfully addressed her, "And while you certainly do not appear in need of a bath, as my brother here, if you desire one, I can show you to my room. I prepared it for your use and have the clothes we made you for the ceremony."

Arya graciously accepted and followed Willow out of the dining area toward the living quarters. As they walked, Willow easily conversed, describing life on the Isle. "For the most part, we all have our private chambers off the Great Hall, which makes it easier. We're always free to stay elsewhere if we want, but our dragons have large resting areas in our rooms so we needn't be parted."

"How do you like being a Rider?" Arya asked.

"It's wonderful!" Willow answered. "I love flying, and the bond with Sunset has been my greatest comfort next to my friendship with Varhog. But it's still lonely sometimes. I'm glad you're here now. I hope we can be friends. We Riders feel greater regard for one another than most groups of such mixed races, but Eragon and Murtagh are the only other humans except Tomath, and they were so hopelessly in love with women who were hundreds of miles away.

"The female elves are wise and regal but so formal. They treat me as if I'm a child, which I suppose I am in their eyes. When I first came here, Knilf and Varhog still hated each other, and I was so nervous around Eragon that Varhog and I became friends. All the others are wonderful, to be sure, but they all seem like brothers to me. Then, when Tomath came so young, I felt like I needed to be his mother. We're like one big, strange family and I the only female."

Arya laughed at the idea, finding Willow's openness refreshing. "I'm sure we will be great friends."

Willow smiled at her. "I suppose you're also much older than myself."

"I'm one hundred and twelve years old," Arya confirmed.

This didn't seem to surprise Willow, for Blödhgarm and the other elves who had come with Eragon to the Isle were many times older. "Well, Eragon once hinted that his young age was a large obstacle for you. If you have come to overlook that, perhaps you also won't mind my relative youthfulness."

Arya was curious about something so she asked, "Eragon joked that you're like the sister he never had. You seem to have a comfortable relationship. Has it always been that way?"

"For the most part," Willow replied. "I was so dumbfounded when Sunset hatched for me. The new Riders were—are—still such a novel thing in Alagaёsia. No one really thinks a dragon egg will hatch for them, though many like myself dearly hope for it. The chances are so slim and the honor so great that it just seemed like it would never happen for one such as myself. I suppose the dragons search for something different than many people would—not to imply I'm something special.

"Anyway, when I first came here, Murtagh and I had already developed a friendship, since he helped me raise Sunset. But Eragon was very mysterious to the people in Alagaёsia, attaining almost god-like levels of deference because of his role during the war. Then he up and disappeared not long after. I was very timid and nervous around him. But when I learned that he was a few years younger than Murtagh, who already seemed like my older brother, he seemed less intimidating. I was barely sixteen, but Eragon was only twenty-two. Ever since then, they've both been like older brothers to me—protective and teasing and kind. It didn't take long for us to become friends. I suppose there might have been a chance I would have come to fancy one of them if it hadn't been for the fact that their hearts so clearly belonged to others. There would have been no point. And now that I've met you, it's no wonder Eragon felt that way. Already I feel a reverent awe in your presence."

Arya had appreciated her openness a moment before, but she found it almost surprising after Willow's final comment. Willow seemed to have no difficulty saying whatever she felt, provided it was appropriate, perhaps evidence of her many years living among so many males. But it was so foreign compared to what Arya was used to, as stuffy as the elves were about things such as propriety and delicacy.

They reached Willow's room, and she opened the door for Arya before turning to go. "Will you stay and help me?" Arya requested. She enjoyed Willow's company and wished to learn more of her.

"It would be an honor," Willow accepted, entering the room after Arya and closing the door behind them. "I suppose we ought to be efficient. I'm sure Eragon won't take long and will be eagerly awaiting his bride." She smiled brightly at the thought. "I'm so happy for him. And you. He's so good and wise, and he has been so patient. It seems he has somehow earned this, if such a thing can be said."

"It seems to come naturally to you to be happy for another," Arya said, experimenting with the same level of sincerity Willow used.

"I suppose," Willow said with an apologetic shrug. "Eragon has been sad for so long. He never complained and was always fiercely dedicated to his work here, but he went through so much in Alagaёsia and has been isolated from the one person he most wanted to be with. I always noticed. He couldn't keep it from his eyes."

Willow picked up a hairbrush and began running it through Arya's hair, her familiar manner once again surprising. "We should brush it before washing," she suggested. "To remove anything that might have gotten stuck."

Arya had never experienced someone else brushing her hair, not even her mother, and it was delightful. Willow brushed gently and with a practiced hand, for her hair was also long. But unlike Arya's, Willow's was a warm brown color, as were her eyes. She was very pretty and truly did look as if she could be Eragon's sister.

Willow complimented, "You have lovely hair. It's so thick and shiny. And it smells like fresh pine needles."

Arya couldn't keep herself from giggling, which she found odd. She couldn't recall a time when she had ever giggled before coming to the Isle, though Eragon had succeeded in eliciting the response a number of times in the previous few days. "That's what Eragon says too, though I've never noticed it myself."

Willow giggled too. It was such an unusual exchange for Arya, and she wondered if this was what it felt like to have a sister. Elves were, almost as a rule, always only children. It was so rare for an elven couple to have even one child, and none in the past several centuries had ever had two.

As Willow finished, she pointed at the basin for bathing through the washroom door. "I can leave if you would like some privacy," she offered.

"That's not necessary," Arya said. "Perhaps if you just turn. I'd like to have your company."

Willow obliged. Arya undressed and entered the water, savoring how soothing it felt and wishing she could relax in it for an hour. But Willow had spoken sense. Eragon, though not one to complain, would likely not appreciate waiting too long in this particular situation. She swiftly washed her body and hair before emerging from the water to grab a towel near the basin.

Once Arya was dry, she asked Willow, "What am I to wear?"

Willow had a few articles of clothing draped over her arms. "The elves knew you before and made these. They seemed confident, as they always do I suppose, that they would fit and you would like them." She handed Arya a sleeveless silk shirt the color of ivory and fitted tan-colored leggings meant to reach just below her knees then turned so Arya could don them.

"What next?" Arya asked once she had. "Or is that all? They must have had Eragon's desires in mind if this is all they meant for me to wear." She laughed liltingly, as did Willow.

"True," Willow agreed. "There's more, but let's do your hair first."

Arya raised her eyebrows. She had never really done anything with her hair. She usually allowed it to flow naturally or secured it away from her face, though she also sometimes wove flowers into it, which was what Willow seemed to have in mind.

With Willow guiding her by the shoulders, Arya sat down at a vanity. Willow stood behind her, murmuring the spell to dry Arya's hair. The water dripped to the stone floor behind the chair. "Learning that made my life so much easier," Willow remarked.

"It's one of my favorites too." Arya noticed a small tool on the table meant for cleaning and filing one's fingernails. She picked it up and began grooming her own nails, glad she had the chance. She had noticed in the bath how dirty they looked, but in her haste she hadn't given them due attention.

As Willow once again began brushing her hair, Arya asked, "Where are you from, Willow?"

"I'm from Feinster," Willow replied. "My family was of the upper middle class as my father was a merchant. My mother passed away when I was five, giving birth to my younger brother. I helped raise him, but he was sickly and weak and died when I was ten." Arya could see from Willow's reflection in the mirror that her eyes looked misty. "Perhaps if I had only known magic then. . . . Father was so heartbroken by the loss of mother and William that he was soon upon his deathbed, though still relatively young. He died just before I flew here with Sunset, at peace I believe, that I would be safe and cared for with the Riders. I'm glad he got to meet her. He helped me raise Sunset, along with Murtagh. It was a joyful time, one I'll always fondly remember. I'm glad it was brighter at the end with father. Things had been dark and dismal for years."

"How did Sunset come to hatch for you?" Arya asked. "She's a gorgeous dragon, just the color her name would imply."

Willow began weaving strands of delicate emerald-colored vines with exquisite white blossoms through Arya's hair. "I'm sure Eragon will like it best if we just leave it down," Willow muttered under her breath. To Arya's question she responded, "The young people, ages thirteen through twenty, assembled together in Ilirea when Murtagh arrived with the egg. It was quite a large crowd, with youth from all of the lands present. No regard was given to birth or station.

"The process took many weeks. We each got to hold the dragon egg for a brief time, to speak our name by way of introduction, and say or think whatever else we wanted, so she was familiar with each person for whom she might potentially hatch. Thereafter, we each got to have possession of the egg for a full day under Murtagh's supervision, so there was no confusion as to who the dragon truly hatched for. The dragons were aware of the rules, having helped develop them. I thought it so fascinating that she was aware within her egg though not yet even a hatchling.

"On our day with the egg, there were no rules but that we treat the egg with respect and care, which almost went without saying. We could do as much or as little as we wished and say whatever we wanted. Murtagh encouraged me to be myself so she would know who I truly was. That was hard because I wanted to impress her and seem like a good match. When her egg began to hatch in my hands, I was so surprised! I had tried not to seem desperate, knowing it would be unbecoming and perhaps offend the dragon, but my desire was so intense and pure . . ." Willow trailed off with wonder in her voice and tears in her eyes at the memory.

Arya said, "I too always wished to be a Dragon Rider, Willow. It is the highest honor I can imagine. Or that I could imagine at the time. I felt similar awe when Fírnen began to hatch for me."

"And when I first touched her," Willow picked up, "it was indescribable! That icy, tingling sensation! Suddenly I felt the wisdom and intelligence of the ages fill my mind and heart. I've never felt such tremendous joy!"

Arya laughed at Willow's rapturous account. Willow placed an elegant golden circlet on Arya's brow like a crown. "There's nothing more I can do to improve your beauty, if I did at all. You're divine," Willow said without pretense, studying Arya in the mirror.

As Arya finished her own task, she held her hands up to examine her work. Satisfied, she began to rise, but Willow caught sight of Arya's ring and imploringly reached for her hand, seeking permission with her eyes.

Arya proudly offered her hand so Willow could examine the ring. "It's exquisite," Willow breathed. "I've never seen anything like that. And it matches the circlet, as if we planned it."

"Eragon once sang a flower into being for me during our travels. It was a beautiful lily. I had just told him about the most painful time of my life. He knew of elven customs and what it would mean to me."

"How romantic," Willow sighed.

Arya realized it truly was romantic. Eragon had always been so careful around her, worried she would overreact and interpret his every gesture as an expression of love. She wondered that he had persisted in his feelings for her, as much as she had discouraged him.

"What was even more amazing is that quite literally out of nowhere, a group of spirits soared to us then, and their joy at learning that Eragon had slain a Shade—thereby releasing several of their brethren from a most abominable prison—was so great that they transformed the lily he had given me into pure gold and gemstones. Eragon patterned this ring after that, knowing what it too would mean to me."

"You're fortunate to have him, Arya, though I'm sure you know that," Willow stated. "Now let me get you your gown."

Willow retrieved the dress and held it out to Arya. Arya stepped into it so she wouldn't damage Willow's artful design of her hair by pulling it on over her head. Willow helped her slip into it, holding up her hair so Arya could slide in one arm at a time and pull the gown over her shoulders.

It was a serenely beautiful gown, pale as the moon, with sleeves that fitted her arms to the elbow before flowing out below her fingers without covering her hands. The bodice consisted of a delicate crisscross of laces to allow easier access in and out of the dress. The dress was trim against her form down to her hips, where it once again flowed out into a swirling skirt, resting a perfect length just upon the ground. As the elves had sung it out of silk, there were no seams anywhere. Arya tightened the laces at the bodice, noticing as she did that it created a flattering neckline.

"The elves were right. It's a perfect fit," Willow admired. "And were they also right that you would like it?"

"Yes," Arya breathed. "It's the loveliest gown I have ever worn and perfectly suited to my tastes—simple yet elegant."

"You look like a goddess," Willow observed. "Eragon will be pleased."

"Though I'm sure he will just as soon want me out of it," Arya quipped.

Willow laughed. "The elves thought you would prefer to be barefooted. But they also provided stockings and dress shoes, just in case."

"I will remain barefoot," Arya replied. "Thank you, Willow. This is more than I would have dreamed. So perfect. And to think you planned it all within two days. Is there anything else, or am I ready?"

"The elves did most of it," Willow modestly dismissed. "They simply let me oversee since weddings are a human custom. And that's all. You are ready. Let us keep them waiting no longer. The ceremony will be in the Great Hall so the dragons can be present."

As they began to make their way back to the hall, Willow asked, "Are you nervous? To get married, I mean."

Arya smiled and said, "I've never been surer of anything in my life."

Willow seemed satisfied and asked no further questions the rest of their walk, though she chatted amiably the whole way.