24. Confusion
Back in the city, the other Riders cleaned up after the feast and celebration, then they relaxed in the comfortable chairs scattered throughout one corner of the Great Hall. Rather than joining his older comrades, Tomath wearily excused himself and retired to bed.
Since it was midsummer, they didn't start a fire as they sometimes did in the cooler winter months, but Murtagh still gazed into the empty fireplace and finally broke the silence. "Does anyone dare ask their dragon to contact Saphira or Fírnen and see how Eragon and Arya are doing?" he asked with a wry grin.
Willow's laugh was most discernible out of the deep male chuckles all around her, for only the Riders were present. The elves had taken to their favorite haunts after the work was finished, and Angela and Solembum were nowhere to be seen.
"Shame on you for even suggesting it, Murtagh!" Willow exclaimed. "We all know perfectly well that they're doing marvelously!"
"True," Murtagh agreed. "Is anyone else feeling somewhat jealous? We're all of the age that doing what Eragon and Arya are no doubt doing seems the most natural and desirable thing in the world. What say you all to a little wager? How long do you think Eragon and Arya will stay away on their honeymoon before returning to the city? My bet is ten days, one for each year they were apart. Anyone else want to play?"
"What's the reward if we win?" Grintuk inquired.
"Satisfaction, dear brother," Murtagh ironically replied. "And perhaps luck. Maybe the closest guess will ensure the winner the privilege of next enjoying the pleasures of marriage."
Willow asked, "Do you really think ten days, Murtagh? Is that how long you would spend if you could marry Nasuada?"
"If I could marry Nasuada, my preference would be to never return to civilization. Hardly likely since she's the high queen and all, but that's my secret wish. What would you guess, Willow?"
Willow made the mistake of looking at Varhog, which was what she usually did when seeking advice. Varhog quickly averted his gaze. "Um," she said, "I think you're a little ambitious, but perhaps you understand Eragon better than I do. I'm going to say a week. Seven days."
Knilf guessed three days, and Bodin went with four. The Urgals had a different notion of the appropriate length for a honeymoon. Grintuk surprised them by seriously saying, "A month. That's how long they'll be gone."
Varhog chortled. "Do I sense some underlying wishful thinking here, Grintuk? Or are things just different in the Delvhtuk clan?"
"Don't pretend to be so gallant, brother," Grintuk good-naturedly returned. "I know how long you'd be gone if you could marry the one you love. Surely you remember the lessons mated rams give the younger generation."
Willow glanced at Grintuk after his insinuation that Varhog currently loved someone, but she apparently thought better than to look over at Varhog again.
"Do they now?" Varhog said in surprise, studiously avoiding eye contact with Willow. "No, I can't say I have ever had the pleasure of hearing anything like that. However, I was always regrettably solitary. After my obligatory participation in training and fighting, I always retreated into the forest. But I can imagine thinking a month might seem too short. I'm going with two weeks. What about you, Hanin?"
The elf chuckled. "I never would have been comfortable discussing this topic six years ago," Hanin admitted, "but now it seems as natural as flying on Vera. I don't know. What numbers haven't been taken? I'm going to trust those with years of pent-up longing and go with eleven days. How's that?"
"Fine," Murtagh declared with a laugh. "Everyone remember their number. At the very least, we can say the winner gets out of dish duty the night the two lovebirds return. So I'm curious, Hanin. The elves know more about the Riders of old than any other race. Did they have romantic relationships?"
"I wasn't personally alive during the time, as were some of my fellows," Hanin answered, "but I think it is safe to assume that some, if not all of the Riders, did enjoy romantic relationships. This much at least we can assume from the memories of the Eldunarí who were bonded to Riders. Whether they first married or simply joined in moments of passion is debatable. I admire Eragon for his choice to marry first, which is strange for an elf to admit, but to me it shows that his self-control and loyalty will never waver in his most important relationship."
"Eragon has been a worthy example in this as in all things," Knilf acquiesced. "However, I can't help but agree with Murtagh. We Riders find ourselves in a fine dilemma. Now that two Riders are married, it will be hard not to think about the joys and privileges that go along with that union. There are too many males here, and our ranks increase by only one a year. Mine sweet back in Tronjheim, Greta, was proud when I was chosen as the first dwarf Dragon Rider, but it was bittersweet for us both, for we know not how to proceed in our relationship when I will be immortal and she will not."
"How is Greta, Knilf?" Willow kindly asked. "You just returned home. Right in time for Eragon's special occasion."
"Yes, not a moment too soon, eh? She is wonderful, my dear, wonderful," Knilf replied. "Though she is none too happy that my visits must be so infrequent. The first four years were terribly hard. I fear she may give up on me yet if things continue as they are. She is the fairest dwarf lass I ever have seen, and I'm sure she has caught the eye of other knurlan back home."
"Don't lose hope, Knilf," Willow encouraged. "There must be some solution to this problem. For Murtagh's sake and yours, I fervently hope there is."
"As do I, my dear," Knilf said.
"This has also bothered me," Grintuk quietly admitted, though his immensely deep voice easily carried to the others. "We see in the union of Firesword and Arya that an interracial marriage can be successful, but an elf and a human joining is not entirely unheard of. We Urgralgra, however, would be hard-pressed to find anyone of a different race willing to join with us, as feared and hated as we have always been."
Varhog solemnly regarded Grintuk, keeping his eyes carefully away from Willow.
Bodin nodded gravely. "I have also thought on this at length. I had no sweetheart back home before becoming a Dragon Rider, but how could I, in good conscience, take a wife who would one day inevitably pass on while I remained behind. At least Hanin could find a match among the elves who would share his immortality."
"You could take an elf, brother," Hanin joked.
"Oh, that's rich, Hanin," Bodin retorted. "I can't think of any elf maid who would consider joining herself with a short, stocky, slow, bearded dwarf. Nay, it would never be."
"I'm sure stranger things have happened," Hanin mildly replied, glancing pointedly at Varhog, which the Urgal obviously noticed, though Willow missed it. Her eyes were trained on her clasped hands resting in her lap.
Willow abruptly stood. "I'm going to bed," she announced. "Thank you all so much for your help pulling this off for Eragon and Arya. It was magnificent. No more chores for a week!" She smiled teasingly, but it wasn't as exuberant as usual.
Varhog stood to accompany her, as he always did. "I'll be fine, Yelloweyes," Willow told him. "You needn't trouble yourself."
"It's no trouble," Varhog assured, surprised that she seemed reluctant to have his company. He had never asked permission to walk Willow back to her room, but he did then to make sure he wouldn't bother her. "May I come with you? I'd like to, if you don't mind."
"Of course, my friend," Willow said. "With you as an escort, I may even brave taking the compost to the chickens. Not even the wild dragons would dare molest me with an Urgal ram as my personal guard."
Varhog smiled faintly but could see that Willow was trying too hard to downplay her first dismissal.
Before Willow and Varhog left, Murtagh said, "Thank you, Willow, for planning the wedding. I know it meant the world to Eragon. It really was magnificent, even as you said. I don't know what we would do without you here."
"Hear, hear," Knilf agreed. "Murtagh and Varhog were the only two here who had the pleasure of witnessing the wonderful dynamic on the Isle before your blessed arrival. Why, if not for you, I'm sure this great horn-headed brute would have gored me through the middle before the end of the year, if I hadn't planted my axe in his back."
"What an awful thought," Willow murmured. "I'm glad I could help. You're all the best males of each race I've ever had the honor of knowing, though I'm sure that doesn't count for much, since I didn't know many males before coming here. I consider you each closer than any brother I might have had by birth. But that said, I'm so grateful Arya is now here. We really do need more females. Who knows, Hanin? Maybe you'll get lucky at this next Elf Choosing Ceremony and the dragon will hatch for a female."
Hanin smiled as he gracefully arose to give her an embrace. "Perhaps," he allowed. "If the dragon did hatch for a female and she was anything like you, it would only mean good things for the Riders. Good night, Willow." He glanced apologetically at Varhog over her head as he stepped away.
Varhog was sure he looked as envious as he always did whenever Willow wasn't looking and any of the others gave her a hug. Though easily her closest friend, Varhog had never had the same opportunity of embracing her, perhaps for the very reason that he was slightly different to her than the others. She didn't view him quite as the brother she did all the rest.
"Good night, Hanin," Willow replied.
The dwarves also jumped up, and she bent over to hug them, murmuring more good nights. Murtagh stood and, for Varhog's sake, simply put one arm around Willow's shoulders. Grintuk, however, had no qualms about crushing Willow against him in a tight embrace, defiantly regarding Varhog. He was the closest match to Varhog's strength, though he was a foot taller as a Kull, and he didn't fear Varhog's wrath.
Varhog furrowed his brow and returned the stare with a disapproving, slightly menacing look.
"Grintuk!" Willow gasped into his ribs where her face reached against his eight-foot frame. "I can't breathe."
"Sorry, Willow," Grintuk said, releasing her with an apologetic grin. "Good night, sister."
"Good night, you clowns," Willow said, smiling affectionately. "Until tomorrow morning." She turned, linked her arm through Varhog's, and rested her cheek against his arm, which provided him a small measure of consolation. They walked to the kitchen, and Varhog grabbed the bin full of compost scraps before they left to visit the chickens.
-:-:-
The others were silent until Varhog and Willow disappeared.
Then Knilf said, "Do you think he'll ever pluck up the nerve to tell her how he feels?"
"It might be difficult for you to grasp, brother," Grintuk said, "but the notion probably seems more than impossible to him. I know it does to me. If not for Varhog, I would probably feel much the same about Willow. It's hard to see someone with Willow's strength and fighting abilities and not admire them, at least for our race. But to entertain the notion that a human would ever want an Urgal? No, that's just too much. Not to mention that the Urgralgra would never approve of such a thing, for the feelings are mutual and most of our race look upon humans with equal degrees of revulsion and hatred. All this talk of mates and marriage is extremely hard for Varhog."
"Willow has been taking it more to heart recently as well, don't you think?" Murtagh observed. "She has been more somber, like she was tonight. Varhog has always been her closest friend. It's hard for me to imagine that one wouldn't begin to think of their best friend in that way, but she seems to be hung up on the same obstacle."
The others nodded or otherwise expressed their agreement, and soon after, they all went their separate ways.
-:-:-
After scattering the plant peelings and remnants for the chickens, Willow and Varhog reentered the Great Hall. Varhog set the compost bin down in the kitchen, then they washed their hands and headed for Willow's quarters. Their walk thus far had been mostly silent.
But as they neared her room, Willow asked, "Why haven't you ever given me a hug, Yelloweyes?"
"Why haven't you ever called me brother?" Varhog rejoined.
"Perhaps I don't see you quite like the others," Willow answered. "I've never really thought of you as my brother like I do them. You have always been my friend. My best friend. But can friends not embrace?"
"I wouldn't object," Varhog casually said, attempting to hide his desperate hope. "I would hug you if you wanted me to."
Willow looked up at him and smiled teasingly. "Perhaps I do," she murmured. They reached her door and without further ado, she stepped in front of him and wrapped her arms around his waist. Her head came up to the level of his heart, and she pressed her ear there. "I can hear your heart," she said.
As he tentatively put his arms around Willow's shoulders, feeling far more awkward than any of his brothers ever looked when they embraced her, Varhog wondered if Willow could sense that his heart was pounding harder than usual. He loved wrapping his arms around her just as much as he always imagined he would, and he also bowed his head, resting his face on the top of her head. Her hair was warm and smelled sweet. Maybe giving Willow a hug wasn't the best idea, for it intensified Varhog's longing for her in such an unbearable way.
"This is nice," Willow then observed in a voice slightly muffled by his pectoral muscle.
"Aye," Varhog softly agreed.
Willow pulled away too soon, Varhog thought, and reached for her door handle. Keeping her eyes down, she whispered, "Good night, Varhog." Then she opened her door, entered her room, and closed it behind her.
"Good night," he said to the door. Varhog turned and walked to his own quarters at the end of the expansive corridor. The door to each chamber actually consisted of two doors. One was immense and swung outward into the enormous hallway to allow a dragon to pass through unhindered. The second was built within the first, swung inward toward the room, and was of a more standard size. The Riders used these smaller doors when entering alone.
Varhog's agitation grew by the second, and he smashed his door open with a clenched fist, paying no mind to the jolt of pain that shot through his hand and forearm. Once in his room, Varhog yanked off his shirt, kicked off his boots, and flung himself down on his bed, which groaned in protest under his immense bulk. Turning on his side, he grabbed the pillow under his head and hugged it to his chest, pretending it was Willow.
Black Thunder was already there, curled up in his depression on the floor. Though the dragons could enter the living quarters through the huge doors meant for them, most chose to enter their Riders' rooms by flying to the ceiling of the Great Hall. The ceilings opened to the chambers on the other side, but the walls were high and thick enough that no sounds carried across the barrier.
My son? Black Thunder wondered.
Varhog's dragon had hatched within a few years of his sire's death and had somehow filled the void in Varhog's life after losing his father. So from early on, around the time the dragon had surpassed Varhog in size, Varhog had taken to referring to him as 'my father,' and the dragon had returned the sentiment by calling Varhog 'my son.'
It's Willow, Varhog curtly thought, knowing that would perfectly sum up his frustration.
It goes worse, then? the dragon asked.
No! It goes nowhere! I can't seem to find the courage to confess my feelings, no matter what she has hinted at these past few days. She would never want to be my mate. But I want her so desperately, my father. I love her more than anything. Why must I be an Urgal?
Give her a chance, my son, his dragon advised. She has always accepted you as an Urgal, right from the very beginning. She has never feared or hated you because of your yellow eyes or curling horns. You know she cares about you as a friend. Could not that naturally extend into what you now feel, even as your feelings of friendship deepened into love and affection?
Who would believe it possible for a human woman, and one as beautiful as Willow, to want an Urgralgra ram for her mate? Varhog bitterly ranted. She might always accept me as her friend, but to hope she would ever want more seems the height of presumption and folly. Her kind view me as an abomination, a monster, a hideous beast. And what's worse, my kind would view her in the same way. I couldn't bear it, my father.
How does she see you, my son? Not in this way. You know that.
No, Willow doesn't see me as a monster, but nor can I ever imagine her wanting me as her mate. How could she ever be attracted to me in the way a mated couple is?
You are now attracted to her in that way, Black Thunder reminded him, though it was not that way at first. You also had to overcome your biases against humans, and you have, and now you long for Willow as much as any Urgralgra ram ever longed for a female. If that happened, as inconceivable as it would seem to any of the rest of your race, then the opposite is also possible. Especially if the human in question is Willow. She is different and uncommon. Special. You are an amazing ram, my son. She sees that and values all of your strengths and achievements. She prizes her friendship with you. Do I not speak truth?
You do, Varhog allowed. Willow is the most amazing person I have ever known, but that makes me even more despairing. She could have anyone she wanted. Anyone, my father. Elf, dwarf, human, or even Urgal, as I so pathetically demonstrate. All of the other Riders admire her and would no doubt be fighting over her right now if not for my obvious regard and possessiveness. But how selfish am I to hoard her like I do when I don't even have the courage to confess my feelings and ask her to be my mate?
Varhog shook his head in frustrated denial. Ask her to be my mate, he mockingly repeated. I can't even imagine it! It's impossible for me to picture her accepting me, no matter how kind or friendly she is.
Do not give up hope, Varhog, Black Thunder counseled. Encourage the right moment and seize it. She may surprise you. If she does not, at least you can safely rely on the fact that she will always be your friend. You will be no worse off than you now are if she rejects you. Perhaps you would even be better off. At least she would know the true depth of your feelings and you would no longer feel the crushing weight of indecision and hopelessness.
You're right, my father. I will look for the right time when I can speak with Willow. I don't know how she isn't as painfully aware as all the others of how I truly feel. In my mind, every word I say and every expression of my face conveys the full depth of my love and admiration. It's harder every day to hide it, especially now that Firesword is married and there has been all this talk of mates.
Things will work out, my son. Trust in that.
I will, Varhog promised.
-:-:-
Down the hall, Willow was having a similar conversation with her dragon. She hadn't even bothered undressing, but instead curled on her bed facing Sunset with a pillow clutched tightly to her chest. She hadn't expected her arms to feel so empty after stepping away from Varhog.
I'm so confused, Sunset, Willow lamented. My friendship with Varhog has always been the easiest matter in the world. When I realized the other day that he's everything I have ever wanted in a husband, it shocked me. But he seems to think that his being an Urgal and I a human is an insurmountable obstacle. At the same time, I could swear he feels more for me than friendship by the way he looks at me and the things he says.
Can you see him as your husband, sunshine? Sunset asked. They had always thought Sunset's pet name for Willow was a fitting play on the dragon's name because of how warm and bright her Rider was.
I don't know! Willow wailed. He's as familiar to me as you, Sunset, though we are so vastly different. Everything about Varhog that makes him different from me is just a part of who he is. It has never bothered me that he's an Urgal. His horns have never been frightening. His skin and eye color have never been repulsive. It was all foreign at first, but now they seem the most natural things in the world. He wouldn't be Varhog without them.
But can you see him as your husband? her dragon gently pressed.
I think so, Willow honestly replied. His body is more like a man's than his head, and it's magnificent and powerful. I think all females appreciate those things. I do. It felt sublime to hug him tonight. It was so different from when I embrace any of the others, even Grintuk. Varhog is far taller than I but not that much taller. I feel like we could still be a good match though I'm comparatively so much smaller than he. Save Grintuk, Varhog is more different from me than any of the other Riders, but I do believe I can see him in that way—as a husband—more easily than any of the others.
Willow went on, Murtagh is clearly out of the question. He feels as much like a real brother to me as Eragon does, and he loves Nasuada so desperately. Thinking of the dwarves or Tomath in that way only makes me laugh. They're wonderful and so merry, but I can't imagine being with someone so much shorter than myself. And Tomath sees me more as a mother than anything. Hanin is devilishly handsome, but he's almost sixty years older than I! Of course, Eragon and Arya seemed to overcome that in the end, but I still can't see Hanin as a husband as much as I can picture Varhog, strange as that sounds.
But I don't know how to act now. What if Varhog doesn't feel the way I sometimes suspect he feels? I would expect him to take the lead in this matter, but I don't want to make him uncomfortable or pressure him. I'm still not exactly sure what my feelings are, if anything. Maybe all this uproar surrounding Eragon's wedding is muddling my thoughts and emotions. But I don't want to lose Varhog as my best friend. I couldn't bear that.
He would not want that either, sunshine, Sunset reminded her. Be yourself, Willow. Be his friend. Be honest. I am sure the time will come when he finds the courage to confess his feelings, if they are stronger than the regard of friendship. He would be lucky to have you, sunshine. You are an extraordinary person. I did not choose you for nothing.
Thank you, Sunset, Willow said. She slid off her bed, leaving the pillow behind, and went over to wrap her arms around Sunset's warm snout. I always feel better when I speak with you. Let's go flying tomorrow.
Nothing would make me happier, sunshine. Will you ask Varhog to come along? You always would have before your emotions were as confused as they now are. He was surprised and slightly hurt tonight that you nearly denied him the pleasure of accompanying you back to your room. He never would have pressed it, gentleman that he is, but take care that you do not become aloof.
I'll be careful, Willow promised. Being a friend to everyone is the main thing I have going for me. I can't let myself get bitter and withdrawn in my confusion. Tomorrow I want to be alone with you, but maybe we can plan a trip to the lake now that Eragon isn't there and I'll invite Varhog to come. Wait, is Eragon there? Can you check with Saphira and make sure I wouldn't inadvertently drop in on them. I would feel really awkward, especially if Varhog was with me.
I checked, sunshine, her dragon said after a moment. Eragon and Arya are not at the lake. Would you like to stay with me tonight?
I would, Willow verified. Maybe I should at least get ready for bed. She quickly dressed down to her undershirt and undergarments, brushed her teeth and hair, and washed her face.
Ready! she announced as she returned to Sunset. Her dragon lifted her wing, and Willow snuggled against Sunset's warm underbelly, resting her head on a soft fold of skin in her hip joint. Sunset folded her velvety wing around Willow, and the dragon and her Rider drifted off to sleep.
-:-:-:-
A/N: There is a mature love scene in the following chapter. Skip, if so desired.