28. Progress

Willow didn't go to Lake Arya the day after Eragon's wedding, but she did fly alone with Sunset all day. The Riders had agreed to have a one-day break from their usual routine before resuming their studies and training, for they had all worked tirelessly to prepare the celebration.

However, about six days later—when the newlyweds still hadn't returned and Murtagh, Hanin, Varhog, and Grintuk were the only four still in the running for Murtagh's bet—Willow decided to finally take her trip. She arose at her usual time and dressed in dark-colored summer clothing. When Sunset asked her why she wore a black elbow-length shirt over her undergarments as opposed to the usual white, Willow explained that she wanted to be modest in front of Varhog in case they went swimming.

If he even comes, Willow brooded. She had made a firm resolve not to pester Varhog to reveal his feelings—if they even existed—and had done her best to act as if nothing had changed between them. They still spent a great deal of time together, but since the day she had flown alone all day without even telling him—which had worried him a great deal, she later learned—he had been more withdrawn, as if concerned his company was no longer as welcome to her.

He will come, sunshine, Sunset reassured.

You tried to warn me about being aloof. I don't know why I didn't at least tell him I would be gone with you. It was surprising that he worried so much. He knows nothing on the Isle can hurt me, especially when you and I are together. I suppose his concern is evidence of his regard. Maybe. I'm going to go crazy if he doesn't say something to me soon. Or perhaps he has nothing to say and I'm making mountains out of mole hills.

You know that is not true, Willow, her dragon insisted.

I don't know what I'm sure of anymore, Willow said as she headed out the door. I'll be in the kitchens preparing food for the day. I'll let you know when I'm ready to saddle you so we can meet by the stables. The stables were merely used for storing all of the equipment needed to ride the dragons, since they obviously didn't stay in stalls strewn with hay.

Willow glanced toward Varhog's room as she left her own. He was most likely already awake. Rare was the day she arose before him. She made her way to the kitchens and found them empty, which surprised her. She must have awakened earlier than she realized if none of her ravenous brothers were already eating.

She went about packing food for her day trip. When she realized that their supply of hardboiled eggs was dwindling after she took a fair few, Willow decided to gather the eggs from the chicken coops after preparing fresh bread for baking. She readied enough food with the expectation that Varhog would accompany her, hoping her efforts wouldn't be in vain.

There was no evidence in the kitchen that anyone had been there that morning, so Willow set a large pot of water to boil for oatmeal. The Riders shared equally in the task of preparing meals. Usually, whoever arrived first for whichever meal was next simply began making food for everyone. Their schedule wasn't rigid, but they shared their meals at fairly regular intervals.

Willow had just laid a cloth over the bread loaves and washed her hands when Hanin entered the room with a large basketful of eggs.

"Good morning, Willow," he greeted. "Here are the eggs from the coops. You're up early."

"I didn't even realize how early it was," Willow said with a smile. "Thank you for gathering those, Hanin. That was helpful. I was actually getting ready to go do that right now, since I depleted the store of hardboiled eggs."

Willow wasn't surprised that Hanin had come in from outside, though it was still so early. He and Vera stayed in quarters he had sung from a majestic pine, for he loved the green of the forest and all of the living plants therein.

"Are you going somewhere?" Hanin asked, grabbing another large pot. He covered the bottom in a single layer of eggs and filled it with water, heating it to boiling with magic so the eggs would cook.

"To Lake Arya," Willow confirmed. "I have a leisure day and that's where I want to go. It has been ages since I went swimming, since it used to be that Eragon always went whenever he could be spared. And he always wanted to be alone."

"Are you sure he and Arya aren't there?" Hanin asked, grinning. "That could be potentially awkward."

Willow also smiled. "Sunset checked with Saphira for me. Eragon and Arya haven't moved far from where they first stopped near the stream not fifteen minutes from the city, at least for an elf running. I suppose it would take me closer to an hour to reach them on foot."

"No, sister. You are very fast for a human. You're not that much slower than we."

"Running I am, though I'm fast enough in close quarters."

"Well, that outing sounds fun. You have a fair amount of food there. Enough for one tall human and an even taller Urgal, by the looks of it."

"We are a rather tall bunch," Willow remarked.

"Except for the dwarves."

"And Tomath, though I'm sure he'll get there in time." Willow laughed, and Hanin joined her. "But anyway, you're right, Hanin. I am going to invite Varhog along, though I'm not as sure as I once was that he'll come." Her demeanor dimmed slightly.

"He will go, Willow."

"You seem certain of it."

"I am. He'll go."

"But he hasn't acted as eager to spend time with me these past few days," Willow pointed out. "If he doesn't want to come, you could."

Hanin regarded her carefully. "That would be very enjoyable, Willow, but he wouldn't approve."

"Do you mean Varhog?" she wondered. Hanin nodded. "Why would you say that?"

Hanin shrugged. "It saddens me to see you unhappy, Willow, but it's not my place to say."

"Never mind," Willow dismissed in a somewhat sullen tone. "I'm sure you could, but no one seems willing to reveal to me what exactly it is that Varhog feels towards me, if anything, least of all Varhog himself. Which makes me think there's nothing out of the ordinary to reveal. However, if there is something he wants to tell me, I want to hear it from him."

"Good," Hanin said, crossing the room to give her a friendly embrace. "You're amazing, Willow. I'm glad to have you as my friend."

"Thank you, Hanin. I feel the same. And lucky for me, I'm one of the few human females to say I'm on hugging terms with Hanin the Handsome. The only one, probably."

"'Hanin the Handsome'?" he skeptically repeated. "Who came up with that one?"

"I did," Willow said with a giggle. "Just now."

"You're silly, Willow."

"I've never denied it," she airily said. "You are dashingly handsome, Hanin, and you know it. But to your everlasting credit, you have never let it go to your head."

"Well, that's a relief! Though I suddenly feel more self-conscious around you."

"Pfff! Don't you be silly too!" Willow chided. "There can't be two silly people in the same room without all manner of nonsense following. You will always be like a brother to me, Hanin. A very handsome, much-older brother."

Hanin stepped away and gave her an affectionate smile. "I suppose we could pass for brother and sister. Though my hair is darker and your ears need to be a bit more pointed. You are extraordinarily beautiful, Willow." She smiled brightly at his compliment. "And so there's no confusion, you're the only human woman I have ever embraced. I don't know that I can even say I have hugged my own mother, as terrible as that sounds. Elves don't commonly show their affection in such open gestures."

"I had gathered that," Willow replied. "The thought of giving Blödhgarm or any of the other elves a hug seems about as natural as the thought of hugging a Nïdhwal."

Hanin chuckled, playing along with her. "Or Cuaroc," he suggested, referring to the dragon-headed metal man who guarded the Eldunarí.

"Or Cuaroc," she agreed with another laugh. "You must be different because you're a Rider. Arya didn't seem to have any problems with open affection, at least where Eragon was concerned."

"That could be part of it," Hanin conceded. "Though I know from living in Ellesméra that Arya wasn't always as open. That you are so warm and friendly surely has something to do with it. I don't know that the Riders of old had the same dynamic as we have in our ranks, but we're quite the caring group, aren't we?"

"Indeed. But I'm appalled you haven't ever hugged your mother, Hanin. Next time you see her, please redeem yourself, for my sake if nothing else."

"I promise I will, Willow," Hanin vowed. "She will no doubt appreciate it."

"No doubt. Did you by chance happen to notice Varhog outside? I'm starting to worry that I haven't seen him yet. He's usually awake before me, but I've been in here almost an hour and no sign of him."

"I didn't see him, but there are many places outside that I haven't visited this morning."

"I'll go check his room. Thank you for your help and for brightening my morning, Hanin."

"The pleasure was all mine, Willow. What can I do to help in here?"

"When that bread is finished rising, it needs to bake. The oatmeal is all but ready. I suppose you can prepare some fruit and other toppings."

"Consider it done, my dear."

Willow smiled warmly and left the room, retracing her steps back through the Great Hall and into the expansive corridor leading to the other Riders' living quarters. The hallways were wide and tall enough for the dragons to pass through, just as they had been in Doru Araeba, home of the ancient Riders.

Willow passed her room and continued on to Varhog's door. There she knocked, calling, "Varhog?"

-:-:-

Varhog looked up sharply, springing off his bed in alarm as Willow's voice closely followed the knock on his door. He snatched his pants off the back of his chair, clumsily pulling them on as he stumbled toward the door and hastily lacing them up before opening it.

Attempting to keep a flustered expression from his face, Varhog greeted with forced casualness, "Good morning, Willow. Is everything all right?"

"I might ask the same of you," Willow said, smiling at his appearance. "Here it is nearly eight in the morning and you haven't yet emerged from your quarters. Are you well?"

"Is it that time already?" Varhog asked in surprise. "I'm quite well, thank you. I must have lost track of time."

Willow's smile widened, and Varhog gripped the door handle he was still holding more tightly.

"Doing what?" Willow questioned.

"Reading," Varhog said with unquenchable enthusiasm. "Knilf brought back some fascinating texts from the library in Tronjheim. I requested that he bring some written in Dwarvish to help me with my comprehension level. They're enthralling. I hope to someday have the opportunity to visit Tronjheim, if only to see their library. It's the—"

"Second largest in all of Alagaёsia," Willow finished for him, still smiling. "You've told me. You're so amazing, Yelloweyes. How many languages can you speak?"

Varhog was modestly abashed but honestly answered, "Five fluently. Many more with varying degrees of fluency and comprehension."

"Five?" she mouthed in silent astonishment. Aloud she said, "Is reading all you've been doing this morning?"

"Uh, no," Varhog awkwardly replied. "I exercised first. And did my laundry."

Willow grinned. "You must have been up early then. I'm really curious to see your room, Yelloweyes, but I can't see anything around your huge torso."

Varhog glanced down at himself. "I'm sorry. I . . . you surprised me. I only had time to hastily pull on my pants."

Willow laughed at his discomfiture. "You needn't apologize," she reassured. "I don't mind." Varhog thought her eyes lingered a moment on his torso. Was that admiration in them? He was trying to decipher her expression when she prompted, "May I see your room?"

"By all means," he invited, backing up to allow her to enter.

Willow took a few steps and stopped right in front of him, turning her head to take a closer look at his gray-skinned chest, which was covered in stiff black bristles. "I can see why you always wear leather clothing and insist I do the same whenever we fight," she observed. "Those look formidable."

She reached out to feel them, and Varhog stiffened in response. "Forgive me, Yelloweyes," Willow said, quickly dropping her hand. Her eyes darted up to his, and he discovered an unreadable jumble of emotions in them.

But she continued looking up at him, apparently performing a scrutiny of her own, and Varhog realized that his face must be expressing any number of conflicting feelings right then. He cleared his throat and ran his hands over his bristles. Willow grinned again, and Varhog clearly recognized the emotion on her face before she glanced away. It was definitely admiration. No doubt about it, but she was trying not to let it be too obvious.

Varhog stared down at his torso in confusion, repeating the innocent action of moving his hands up and down. All of the muscles in his chest, arms, and shoulders rippled, which meant nothing to Varhog but apparently something to Willow. Does she like the way I look? he incredulously wondered.

Willow had taken a couple more steps into the room. She now glanced back at him over her shoulder with a questioning look in her eyes, and Varhog realized the silence between them had begun to be uncomfortable.

"There's nothing to forgive, Willow," he finally managed to say in response to her apology. "I was only surprised, as I always am, whenever a part of me so vastly different from you doesn't seem to bother you." He grabbed his shirt off the back of his chair and swiftly pulled it on over his horns and head. As he tightened the laces at the top, he added, "My bristles are very stiff and would no doubt be very irritating to you if they ever happened to brush your skin."

Willow laughed at his insinuation, which only increased Varhog's embarrassment, for he of course had not meant to imply what she had.

Varhog stammered, "I only meant . . . I didn't mean . . ."

"Don't worry, Yelloweyes," Willow comforted with a teasing smile. "I know what you meant. But wouldn't it be interesting if you had meant the other?" She defiantly quirked one eyebrow, which made Varhog smile.

Willow then looked around the room. When her eyes fell on his dragon curled up in his groove on the floor, she said, "Hello, Black Thunder."

Willow, the dragon acknowledged.

"It's very tidy in here," Willow commented, moving her eyes from the tall wardrobe to his desk and chair to the huge bed in the main living area. She craned her neck to better see into the washroom.

Varhog followed her gaze. "It's like yours," he informed her. "A deep depression in the floor for bathing or washing laundry, a sink and mirror, and a toilet. I helped build it all after I arrived here." The Riders had patterned their quarters after the more convenient and modern arrangements found in Ellesméra and other elven cities, where the elves incorporated more sophisticated methods of plumbing than would be found in any human city.

"I see," Willow said, looking straight up. The room was very high and spacious—as was necessary to allow a dragon enough room to enter, land, and exit with ease—and Varhog realized that only lent to the barren feel of his quarters, for the few pieces of furniture Willow had first looked at were the only items in the room besides a laundry hamper, which was currently empty, as well as a shelf full of books and scrolls. On the table was a bottle of ink, several quills contained in a jar, and a sheaf of parchment for writing.

"I guess it seems really empty," Varhog apologized. "I don't have much to clutter it with."

"I can see that," Willow replied. "But it's still really clean."

"Are you surprised?" he wondered.

"I suppose I shouldn't be. You've never struck me as the slovenly, hoarding type." She smiled at him. "Except for when it comes to books, perhaps. I'm impressed. You would think that after nearly seven years of friendship, I would know something like this about you. Every new thing I learn about you only increases my opinion of you, Yelloweyes, which is saying something, since it's already so favorable."

"That means a lot to me, Willow."

"What kind of exercising do you do?" Willow then queried.

Varhog shrugged. Though he was accustomed to Willow's insatiable curiosity, he was unsure what to make of her keen interest in this area. "The Rimgar, for flexibility and balance. A variety of calisthenics to maintain my current strength—pushups, pull-ups, sit-ups, lunges. That sort of thing."

"I see. Wouldn't want to lose the reputation of being the strongest Dragon Rider, now would you? Where would that leave us?" Willow glanced back at him over her shoulder, a playful smile once again turning up the corners of her lips.

Varhog couldn't help but also grin. "I only do it to maintain my health. I don't have much control over the strength."

"I was only teasing, Yelloweyes," Willow said with a laugh. "I understand. I also exercise for fitness. But you don't use any extra weight?" She cast her eyes about again to see if she might have missed something along those lines.

"No. My body is very heavy. It seems to provide sufficient resistance."

She looked back at him again and stared a moment at his now-covered torso. "So it seems," she agreed. "How heavy is your body?"

"I don't know exactly. Maybe four hundred pounds. I could be wrong. I've never weighed myself."

"Four hundred . . . ?" Willow trailed off in disbelief. "But there wasn't an ounce of fat on you! Which means all of that weight comes from your massive muscles!"

Varhog shrugged helplessly. "I'm an Urgal," was his pathetic attempt to explain what had never seemed extraordinary to him.

Willow nodded conciliatorily then looked away from Varhog toward his dragon. "Black Thunder, is he trying to hide the truth that he actually wrestles with you every morning?"

Varhog knew his dragon hadn't expected Willow to address him, nor would he ever have anticipated that she would joke around with him. Black Thunder was so surprised and amused that a deafening snort escaped his huge maw, complete with a stream of black fire.

Varhog quickly protected his belongings from the blistering inferno using magic, lunging forward to catch the book that had vibrated off the bed before it hit the stone floor. "My father!" he cried in exasperation, speaking aloud for Willow's benefit. "This volume is priceless! Knilf would kill me if I returned it with so much as a scratch on its surface."

I am sorry, my son, the dragon responded in both of their minds. It is not often that a two-legs catches me by surprise or amuses me. I was unprepared for Willow's question.

Black Thunder continued only to Varhog, Stop acting so surprised that she admires you, Varhog! Is that not what you want? You are acting like a fool!

His amusement continuing to color his thoughts, the dragon then answered Willow's question, Varhog does not wrestle with me each morning, Willow, though I suspect he would be able to do considerable damage with his bare hands if he put his mind to it.

"No doubt," Willow said. "So Yelloweyes, do you sleep in your bed?"

"Uh . . . I. . . . Yes, Willow, I do," Varhog confirmed in confusion, unable to stop acting foolish in spite of his dragon's advice because of how awkward Willow's interest made him feel.

Willow giggled at his uncertain manner. "I only asked because I often sleep by Sunset's side. It's comforting to snuggle next to a warm, living creature. At least for me. I've always been so lonely but never by choice. I guess I crave that contact."

She kept her eyes studiously away from him, and Varhog wondered if there was any possible way she could be thinking what he was thinking—namely, how nice it would be if he could provide such a source of warmth and companionship for her if their relationship ever progressed. But he drove the thought from his mind. It was foolishness to think that she would want an Urgal for her husband.

"That and it's meticulously neat," Willow finished after a moment of silence. "You seem to take good care of your things."

"It's how I was taught," Varhog explained.

Without looking at him, Willow asked, "Do you usually exercise in only your undergarments?"

Varhog was glad she wasn't looking. He creased his brow in consternation at his dragon then struggled to answer. "Yes. I sleep in them too."

"Is it as scanty as what I've come to expect from my studies? Your loin cloth?"

Varhog couldn't suppress his amused, exasperated exhalation. "Thanks to my time here with humans, it's slightly more involved than what most Urgralgra would wear. Similar to a short pair of shorts."

"I see." Willow looked at him again, and Varhog hurriedly cleared his expression. "It's a big bed."

"Because I'm big," Varhog said with a grin.

"That you are. But it reminds me of something."

"What's that?"

"Eragon would appreciate having a bigger bed when—if—he returns with Arya." Willow grinned. "They might just stay away forever."

"I would," Varhog said, almost inaudibly.

Willow looked at him questioningly but made no comment, and Varhog kicked himself internally for his stupidity. Instead she asked, "Do you know anything about making furniture?"

"Aye, Willow."

"You haven't called me Eartheyes once this morning, Varhog. Are you sure you're feeling all right?"

Varhog blinked as he realized she was right. "I feel perfectly sound, at least physically," he assured. "It's disconcerting having you in my room, is all. Especially since you seem so interested in everything."

"That shouldn't surprise you, Yelloweyes. I've always been exceedingly curious. To a fault sometimes, I daresay."

"I disagree."

Willow beamed at him. "Well, maybe tomorrow we can work on expanding Eragon's bed or simply building a new one. But I promise I didn't come here simply to examine your personal space and ask you to help me with an unexpected project. I'm going to fly to the lake today and wanted to invite you to come. I understand if you don't want to. I'm sure that book is calling your name. I've noticed your reluctance to spend as much time with me lately, so I would hate for you to feel obligated against your wishes." She stopped at the pained look of longing on his face.

Varhog quickly cleared it and decisively set the book on his desk. "I would love to come, Willow," he firmly said. "No book has ever provided me with greater pleasure than your friendship or company. I gather I have already made you wait longer than you planned, but do I have time to quickly wash up?"

"Certainly," she said. "I was planning on swimming. But you needn't join me."

Varhog smiled, and his hand twitched by his side as he struggled to prevent it from reaching out to touch her. "I'll swim," he said. "But I still want to wash up. There's a good reason the Varden always complained about our beastly smell. We Urgals smell beastly after the slightest exertion. Thank goodness I have also acquired that habit as a result of becoming a Dragon Rider, namely of bathing myself daily, if not more often. I'll only be two minutes."

-:-:-

"Take your time," Willow said, turning to leave. Varhog grabbed the door to open it for her, and she noticed that he did smell a certain way, but she didn't find it unpleasant. She wondered what that could mean as she waited for him in the hallway, but she had little time to consider it before he was by her side less than two minutes later. His hair was wet, and a musky, masculine smell of pine and cedar surrounded him, which must have come from his soap.

"That was amazing, Yelloweyes. I don't see how you can even get your whole body wet that fast, let alone wash it and your hair. Do you use magic?"

"No. It's a survival skill anyone from a large family possesses," Varhog said with a grin. Since they were no longer in his room, he seemed to feel less awkward.

"Ah yes. Eight children. I can imagine. As one of the oldest, did you have seniority at bath time?"

Varhog chuckled. "Usually, though I was sometimes kind enough to let my youngest sister take my place, so she wouldn't always have to bathe in cold, murky water. It's too bad the Urgralgra haven't adapted the more modern accommodations we have here. Growing up, we would fill up the washbasin and everyone would go one after the other, at least until we were old enough to do it on our own if we wanted more frequent baths."

"I want to hear about your family," Willow implored. "I haven't asked about them in a while. Have you spoken with your mother recently?" Willow loved hearing of Varhog's large family and how it was growing. All of her family had passed away, and she'd had so little time with any member of it.

"I briefly spoke with my uncle before Firesword's wedding, but there wasn't enough time for my mother to be fetched before it started. I'll give you an update," Varhog promised. "How about when we get to the lake?"

"Perfect. But let's eat breakfast before we leave."

"Absolutely," he agreed. "I might not have put that book down all day if you hadn't come searching for me, but my stomach would have hated me for it by dinnertime." Willow smiled. "You know, Eartheyes, you have to let me see your room now too."

"It's much the same as yours, Varhog. But if you really want to, I don't mind." They were nearly to her door. "Do you want to right now?" Willow offered.

"Why not?"

Willow stopped at her room, opened the door, and walked in. "Here it is," she grandly announced.

Varhog followed her in and looked around. "Everything is as tidy as in my room," he stated, "but it feels more personal." Willow noticed him eyeing the two painted portraits hanging near her bed, and he crossed to look at them. "Is this your family?"

"Those are my parents," Willow answered. "It was painted before I was born."

"What were their names?"

"William and Monrow. My name was a combination of theirs."

"And this one is you when you were younger," Varhog said of the other painting. "You look so similar. Were you about eight?"

"Yes, and with me is my younger brother, William, when he was three. He was always so sick, but I loved him so much."

Varhog looked at Willow as tears filled her eyes. She knew he had heard the emotion affecting her voice and could see that he wanted to comfort her but wasn't sure how. He dared gently take her hand. "I'm sorry, Willow. You must miss them."

Willow nodded, and the tears spilled down her cheeks. "Yes. Sometimes more than others. Having a friend like you has helped." She looked up at Varhog, hoping he would understand that she wished he would do more to comfort her. His face was full of concern as he cautiously reached out and enfolded her in his arms. She wrapped her own arms tightly around his back, pressing her face into his chest. Her body started trembling as the tears flowed more freely and a muffled sob left her throat.

Willow wasn't expecting the intensity of her emotions. She usually did an admirable job of hiding any sadness she felt over losing her whole family. She wasn't the only Rider who had, after all. But she couldn't stop the tears, and though she was slightly embarrassed that Varhog was seeing her like this, she was also so grateful he was there. The emptiness she usually felt was so much less painful with his arms wrapped around her.

She knew she wouldn't be able to speak coherently until the tears had run their course, so she let them, and Varhog held her, stroking her back with one hand. Willow suddenly knew she loved him and wished she could think of a reason for him to hold her like this every day.

At length she turned her face to the side and said, "I'm sorry, Varhog. My brother died twelve years ago today. I remember the anniversaries of their deaths as well as I do their birthdays, if not better in the case of my parents. These days are always harder than the rest. Thank you for your kindness and comfort. It made it so much easier."

"I'm glad, Willow," Varhog quietly said. She pressed her ear closer to his chest, loving his deep voice even more in her current location. "If there is ever any way I can lessen your pain, my sweet friend, I hope you will tell me."

Willow smiled, suggesting, "Something like this would always help, even when the sadness isn't threatening to tear me apart."

"I'll be sure to remember that," Varhog promised. He made no move to end the embrace, nor did she. Willow would have been content to remain like this for a long while, and he seemed of the same mind. "Your hair smells nice," he told her with his face resting on her head.

"Thank you, Yelloweyes," she murmured. "You smell nice too. And you're so warm. I could stay here all day, but I can hear your stomach gurgling. I suppose we should get some breakfast before it's gone."

His hesitation in answering confirmed Willow's suspicion that he didn't want to release her, but Varhog finally said, "If you wish."

"Did you want to see anything else in my room?" she wondered, lifting her head without moving away.

Willow stared straight up at him as he glanced around and was filled with the insane urge to stretch up and kiss the deep cleft in his chin, which she had always found so charming. She was grateful his words distracted her.

"I like how it seems more personal," Varhog said. "You have some pictures and decorations." She followed his line of sight and saw the vase with fresh flowers on her writing table. "And you're also very tidy. But that doesn't surprise me. It's how you always are in the kitchens and everywhere else. You seem to unconsciously organize everything you come across."

She smiled as he looked back down at her. "That's true," she agreed. "I don't even notice it half the time." Her heart began pounding more quickly at how close their faces were, though he was a foot taller than she.

"Do you keep a journal?" Varhog asked, once again derailing her romantic fantasies.

"I do," Willow said, finally pulling away—though reluctantly—to keep herself from doing something ridiculous. After trailing one finger over the painted image of her little brother, she turned and crossed the room. Though it was truer than she was letting on, she teasingly continued, "And it's full of all sorts of interesting things about you, Yelloweyes."

"Is that so?" Varhog returned in a similarly playful manner that Willow could see was contrived.

"Oh yes," she said with affected seriousness. "Where else would I confess all of my deepest secrets? I can only tell Sunset so much." Then she laughed and knew he understood why. There was actually very little she could keep from Sunset, even if she had wished it were otherwise, which was a predicament any Dragon Rider would appreciate.

Varhog followed her across the room and opened the door for her, as he always did whenever they were together.

"Thank you, my friend," Willow said as she left her room. Varhog closed the door behind himself and while they continued their short walk to the kitchens, Willow added, "I actually meant to ask back in your room if the Urgralgra have a written language?"

"We do," Varhog verified. "It's composed of its own unique alphabet, with runes and letters different from any of the other languages. There are few texts in Urgralish. When I write in my journal, I write in Urgralish. Maybe they will someday become the basis for some great, scholarly work," he teasingly finished.

"No doubt they will," Willow seriously agreed. "An Urgal scholar. Quite the conundrum, aren't you, Yelloweyes?"

"Conundrum, yes. Scholar, no. Not even close. I have barely scratched the surface of all there is to know and learn. The more I do learn, the more I realize that there's more information and knowledge out there than I'll ever be able to gather and comprehend, even in my very long lifetime. No wonder the Riders became so wise and learned. No wonder the oldest Eldunarí are so intelligent and mind-boggling. They have had time to contemplate and solve some of the greatest mysteries of life. I wish I had known the ancient language during my brief time in Ellesméra. They have the largest library in all of Alagaёsia."

Willow mouthed his last words along with him, giving him a playful smile. "You and libraries, Yelloweyes. You'll soon have the biggest one of any of the Riders, I daresay." She laughed and went on, "If ever I needed a motivation to learn Urgralish, I just found one. What I wouldn't give to read your journals. That's a good defense mechanism, by the way. No one but Grintuk would be able to decipher your innermost thoughts and feelings."

-:-:-

Varhog was glad they arrived at the kitchen then, for he knew not how to respond. His journals did contain a fair amount about Willow, especially in more recent years as his feelings had deepened and he had no one to express them to save Black Thunder. If he could only find the courage to tell her how he felt, there would be no reason for her to learn the truth in a roundabout way.

Many of the other Riders were also eating breakfast. Willow and Varhog heartily ate their fill before informing Murtagh of their plans. Then they met their dragons at the stables.

They saddled the dragons and stowed the few items they had packed in the saddlebags. Both Riders strapped their arms and legs in the saddle restraints so the two dragons could safely perform whatever maneuvers they desired without harming them. Then they were off.

The flight took a couple of hours, but it wasn't lonely for Willow or Varhog. Though they were apart, each engaged in conversation with their dragons.

Varhog began his dialogue with Black Thunder by saying, Why do you think she was so curious about all those things this morning, my father? I mean, my loin cloth? I was shocked she would ask that. It was incredibly awkward.

His dragon rumbled in amusement. I cannot pretend to understand the finer points of courtship between you two-legs. It seems far more complicated than it should be. With dragons, we simply decide we want to mate and do it right then and there.

Which makes me wonder why you never have, Varhog dryly observed. There are plenty of eligible females on the island. But that is beside the point. It might be that easy if Willow was an Urgal or I a human, but she's not and I'm not. To think we can easily decide to join is foolishness. Imagine the displeasure and outright hostility such a thing would provoke in both our races. On the Isle no one would think twice of it. All of the others, save Firesword and Tomath perhaps, know exactly how I feel and wish I would find the nerve to tell her. I'm of the same mind, but that doesn't seem to make it any easier. Why am I such a coward about this? It all goes back to our different races.

It seems that her opinion has started to evolve, Varhog. She greatly admired you this morning. Could you not clearly see that? I could. I like her, my son. She is honest and humorous. Do not risk losing her by dragging your feet. You would not likely forgive yourself. Her dragon is very comely, is she not?

Varhog chuckled. Aye, Sunset is very beautiful. Like her Rider. We both seem rather focused only on what's in our minds, don't we?

Today would be a perfect opportunity for this much-anticipated conversation, Black Thunder pointed out, returning his mind to their discussion. You will be alone together. Maybe the opportunity will present itself. Will you take advantage of it, if it does?

I don't know! Varhog exclaimed in frustration. The opportunity has presented itself on a number of occasions, and Willow always patiently and expectantly waits to see if I will seize it, but I haven't. I hate making her wonder, especially since she has begun to interpret it to mean that I don't want to spend as much time with her. I only want to be with her. All day, all night. She's all I think about, as you obviously know. I'm as lovesick as Firesword or Murtagh. Relationships between Riders seem by their very natures to be complex.

That is true, my son. I am sorry I do not have better counsel for you. You are not a coward. Let some of your strength carry into this area.

-:-:-

Almost as soon as they were flying, though Sunset was executing the most dizzying acrobatics she could, Willow recalled her memory of seeing Varhog shirtless and gushed, Look at his torso, Sunset! I knew he was strong, but I never would have suspected he was that strong. It was unbelievable! But those bristles! They looked so sharp! That would be an obstacle to an intimate relationship, wouldn't it? At least if I was his mate.

Perhaps, her dragon replied. I am sure something could be done about it. So you continue to think of him like that?

That must be it! Willow cried. I've never before noticed how desirable Varhog is because I always simply thought of him as a dear friend. Now that I can imagine him as more, I'm having all sorts of new thoughts and feelings. Like wanting to kiss him! Good thing he kept distracting me! But I have no idea how to interpret his reticence. The longer he goes without saying anything, the more I think his feelings continue to be what they always have been and that he doesn't want to hurt me. I worry I'm bothering him by continuing to seek him out. I hope our friendship won't suffer.

He values your friendship above anything, sunshine, Sunset reminded her. He said so himself this morning.

No, he didn't say that exactly, Willow disagreed, just that no book has ever provided him greater pleasure than my company or friendship. But that sentiment doesn't necessarily extend to everything else.

Sunshine, Sunset thought in amused exasperation, it is as plain as the nose on your face how he feels. All of the other Riders can see it. You are starting to see it. But I too can think of no reason why he would not tell you unless he feels as you do, namely that he thinks you think a relationship with him would be impossible because of your different races.

Sunset! Why would he feel that way? Willow lamented. I've never been bothered that Varhog is an Urgal. Ever. He knows that, or at least he should. Well, whatever the case may be, I will continue not to press him for an explanation of his behavior. He needs to pluck up the courage and tell me, if it's this difficult for him. I hope he will soon because I realized in my room how much I love him. I don't want to be only friends anymore. I want to be more. I felt complete when he was holding me so tenderly. You know how hard these days usually are for me, but having Varhog there made it so much better.

He has always filled part of the void in your soul after losing your father, Sunset observed.

That he has, Willow agreed. I've always wanted to marry my best friend, Sunset. It just so happens that my best friend ended up being an Urgal, and I want to marry him more than I've ever imagined wanting to marry someone.

Well, he would be lucky to have you, sunshine. But of course I am going to say that.

Willow smiled and hugged her dragon more tightly.

-:-:-

Not long after, the dragons arrived at Lake Arya. Their Riders dismounted and met between Black Thunder and Sunset, the former of which was observing the latter with obvious admiration. Sunset demurely turned her head, though Willow could have sworn she was arching her neck to appear more becoming.

You're flirting with him, Willow accused even as she greeted Varhog with a brilliant smile. Her dragon didn't deny it, and Willow laughed—which confused Varhog—then said aloud to him, "That was fun! Thanks for waiting up for us. I know Black Thunder could have arrived here far sooner. I don't want to swim yet. It's still too early, and I'm cold from flying so long. Let's climb the peaks and eat lunch up there near the spring. Is that agreeable to you?"

"Anything, Will—Eartheyes."

Willow giggled. "You can call me Willow if you prefer, Varhog. You usually don't though. That's why I noticed. Are you sure you're up for it? Sounds like you already did a fair amount of exercising this morning."

Varhog grinned. "I could run up to the top of the peaks and back down before you even reached that first knoll and still not be too tired to do it again. In fact, I think I will."

"Why? So you can show off?"

"No, to release some of this pent-up tension."

"Pent-up tension?" Willow repeated in concern. "Are you sure you're well?"

"Perfectly so," Varhog reassured. "Here, give me the pack. I'll see you in about twenty minutes."

"Very well," she reluctantly said, handing over the pack, which he immediately shouldered. She interpreted his strange fervor to mean that he didn't want to spend time with her.

Varhog seemed to notice her slightly hurt expression, for he quietly said, "Never mind, Willow. I'm sorry. You know there's no one else I would rather be with."

Willow bit her lip, hurriedly lowering her face as tears filled her eyes. She raised her eyebrows in surprised frustration and blinked rapidly for a few seconds, hoping no evidence remained when she returned her gaze to Varhog. "I used to know that, Yelloweyes. Lately I haven't been as sure. What happened to our comfortable friendship?"

Varhog surprised her by sweeping her into a tight embrace. "Willow," he said with gentle intensity. "Never doubt my affection for you. I will always be your friend." Willow thought she sensed an unspoken continuation to his statement that seemed to say, And wish I could be so much more.

His embrace provoked numerous confusing and powerful emotions in Willow. Only my friend? she wondered. Then why hold me like this? Before that morning in her room, Varhog had never initiated such contact with her. Willow loved it just as much this time, feeling safe and warm in his arms. Why do you hold back your feelings, dear friend? And why do I? We could once say whatever was on our mind without fear of negative repercussions.

Varhog released her soon after, though he didn't seem to want to. "Shall we go?"

"You really can go on ahead," Willow told him. "I'll be fine."

"Not a chance, Eartheyes."

"All right then," she said with a shrug. "Let's be off."

They began walking toward the foothills and chatting amiably for the most part, though each still mentally stewed over the dilemma before them. They were both completely unaware that the other was thinking about the same topic.

Varhog kept pace with her, and Willow moved swiftly, though not as quickly as he could have. By the top she was breathing heavily, and she removed her thick leather flying jacket to help her cool off.

"You really are in peak physical condition, aren't you, Yelloweyes?" she panted between breaths. "We may as well have walked from the kitchens to my room for how winded you are. Or aren't, rather. Oh well. I might have guessed as much if I had ever thought about it long enough. Surely you at least worked up an appetite."

"Always, Eartheyes. It seems I'm always hungry. I hope you packed a lot."

"It seemed like a lot to me, but maybe I underestimated. We've eaten together often enough—nearly every meal for the past seven years—that I ought to know how much it takes to fill you. I hope it will be sufficient." She looked out over the distant cliffs to the sea beyond. "Look at that view. It's breathtaking!"

"It is," he agreed, and Willow felt his eyes on her. She quickly glanced over and recognized admiration—deep admiration—in his face before he could turn away.

He thinks I'm beautiful, Willow nervously thought. Breathtaking, even. That's the word I used, the one he agreed with while looking at me. And was that longing in his eyes before he turned away? He does want me!

The nervousness evolved into a fluttering in her stomach, but Varhog completely changed the subject—at least, the topic Willow was obsessing about—by saying, "Your birthday is coming up, isn't it?"

"Yes, that's right," Willow replied, trying to focus her attention on this turn in the conversation. "Good memory, Yelloweyes."

"It's easy to remember," Varhog said. "It happens just before the anniversary of your arrival, and that's something I'll never forget."

"Why is that?" Willow wondered with affected innocence, though her eyes burned with keen knowing. Please, she mentally begged Varhog, though she didn't actually send the thoughts to him. Tell me how you feel.

Varhog was silent for a moment before answering, and Willow knew he was thinking something that he didn't voice aloud—something much more interesting than his actual words—when he responded, "Because life on the Isle was dismal before you came and your arrival was like a ray of bright sunshine in my dark world."

"I see," Willow casually said, looking away so he wouldn't notice the disappointment that filled her face. "The others have said much the same before. I should have known that's what you meant. Shall we eat?" By the time she glanced back at him, her expression was neutral.

-:-:-

What Varhog had been thinking when Willow suspected something was running through his mind was, Because you changed me forever, beautiful woman, and I'm madly in love with you. He could see that Willow knew he was withholding his true feelings from her and that she tried to hide her frustration by looking away.

In response to her suggestion that they begin eating, Varhog said, "Certainly," while sitting and pulling the pack around in front of him.

Willow knelt down a couple feet away and returned her gaze to the ocean. "I wonder if this is where Eragon and Arya were reunited. Somewhere around here. The cliffs would have been the first place Arya reached. Eragon was at the lake, so he wouldn't have been far. I wonder what that must have been like for them, especially him. He was so utterly desperate for her and completely despairing that she would never come and he would never get to be with her. It must have been sublimely, exquisitely beautiful to see her again and learn that her feelings had changed."

"I would imagine," Varhog said, perfectly understanding Firesword's desperation for Arya and despair that he would never get to be with her, since he felt exactly the same in his relationship with Willow. The ocean could not draw his attention away from Willow, and he stared at her with the same intensity with which she was observing the sea.

Varhog guessed that Willow could feel his fervent scrutiny, but she said nothing as she began eating. She ate silently for a time, and he sensed her unspoken invitation for him to broach the topic gnawing at his heart.

When he didn't—since he truly didn't know how to bring it up—Willow's eyes flitted to his and she reminded him, "You promised you would tell me about your family. How are your siblings and your mother doing?"

"My mother is doing well, though she is lonely and sad. She was the one who taught me how to keep my room tidy, so I suppose I have her to thank for your admiration earlier."

Willow smiled faintly. "Does she still miss your father?"

"Aye. Tremendously. And though I could be wrong, I think she might have some type of secret hope that my uncle, who has also lost his mate, will perhaps approach her. She has never said anything to me about it, though Myrin has occasionally mentioned it. I have simply guessed as much from my observations when they switch places in the scrying mirror."

"I see. Remind me where Myrin falls again."

"She is the sister right under me. We were always the closest. She's amazing. You'd like her, I think. My mother told me she's expecting her fourth cub now. Myrin is none too pleased that I have never returned to visit, though I could have."

"Why haven't you, Yelloweyes? I've often wondered."

"The time never seemed right," Varhog evasively responded.

Willow looked away again. Varhog could clearly see that his deliberate avoidance of the truth was beginning to annoy her, but at the same time, her stubbornly defiant streak was becoming more and more determined not to bring it up herself and give him an easy out.

"Do you know how your other siblings are doing?" Willow asked in a voice of forced patience.

Varhog's mouth twitched at Willow's behavior. They knew each other so well, and it was very unlike them to hide their thoughts and feelings from each other, though Varhog knew he was the guilty one in this instance. He answered, "My older brother, Yarbog, now has five cubs. The two after Myrin have also taken mates and the next sister down, Naynuk, just had her third cub. So she now has two sons and a daughter. The brother under her, Bruntog, has a son and his mate is expecting their second. The youngest three are still single. Breetuk is doing well, but she misses me too."

"And she's the youngest, right?"

"That's right."

"No wonder she misses you if you showed her such kindness during family bathing time," Willow said with a teasing smile, and Varhog loved her all the more for continuing to be so sweet though she was obviously so frustrated with him. "You know, I'm jealous, Yelloweyes. I always longed to be part of a big family. I would love to meet them someday, though I suppose they wouldn't like some scrawny human girl."

"They would love you in time," Varhog confidently said.

"Is that so?" she returned. "What makes you so sure?"

Varhog grinned. "Everyone does, Willow."

"Hmmm," she mused. "Everyone? Even Urgals?"

He chuckled. She was clearly goading him into revealing more. "I do believe so," Varhog said. "Grintuk and I are just as fond of you as anyone else on the Isle."

"Of course," she shrewdly said. "So do you miss them? Your family?"

"Aye. I miss them greatly."

"Then you should visit them, Varhog," Willow earnestly implored. "I'm sure they all miss you. I would, if you were anything like you are now back then. In fact, I would miss you if you left, my friend." She touched his arm. "But that shouldn't stop you from going."

His mouth curved up slightly. "That's what has always stopped me from going before, Eartheyes," he seriously said. He noticed her unconsciously hold her breath in anticipation that he was finally ready to tell her what she had been waiting to hear. "But not the idea that you would miss me. I would miss you, Willow. I never had a friend like you in my village. I've never felt so comfortable with anyone, and no one has ever been able to make me laugh like you do."

It was something, but she still knew he was holding back, which Varhog clearly saw in her eyes and face as she pursed her lips. "Though I seem not to be able to as much lately. Have I done something to upset you, Varhog? Is something weighing on your mind?"

Varhog stared at her helplessly. She was giving him so many openings. Why couldn't he voice any of the countless emotions he felt? "You have never upset me, Willow," he quietly said. "And something is weighing on my mind, but I have no idea how to discuss it with you."

"Why, Varhog? Once we could openly speak our minds without this hesitation."

"I know," he said. "But this, this, seems impossible."

"So too would the idea that an Urgal ram and human female have become best friends," she patiently reminded him. "At least for the majority of every other member of our respective races. And yet, we have. Is it more impossible than that?"

"Aye," Varhog whispered. "Friends, Willow. We have become friends. But could we ever be more than that?"

She sat up straighter. "Do you think we could?"

"I don't know what to think because I don't know what you think," he hopelessly said. "I know what I want—"

"What do you want?" Willow interrupted.

You, Willow, Varhog thought with such fervency that he was sure she would be able to hear it. How he wanted to say, I want you so desperately, my beautiful friend. I love you so much, Willow, my heart breaks every time I see you. But he didn't. He silently stared at his hands, feeling her eyes leave him. Her discouragement was palpable. She hugged her knees to her chest and rested her chin on them as she gazed back out toward the ocean.

"You needn't answer, Varhog," she murmured, two thin trails of tears appearing on her cheeks. "I understand. I'll wait until you're ready to express what's on your mind. But if it helps you at all, I think it possible that we could be more than friends." She glanced over at him. "I want to be more than friends."

Her last words were so quiet, Varhog wondered if he had imagined them into existence as words he had always desperately wished she would say, but he was sure her lips had moved. His heart broke as she hastily wiped the tears from her face, and he nearly confessed all of the tender feelings in his heart, but Willow then added, "It's hot up here right in the sun. I think I'm ready to swim. I'm going to have Sunset come up and carry me into the water." She quickly packed the empty containers back into the pack and took a big drink of water.

Varhog looked at her and didn't even try to hide his longing. "I'm sorry, Willow. I don't mean to cause you pain."

"I know, Yelloweyes. For now it's enough to know that I haven't upset you." She smiled, but Varhog could tell it wasn't as sincere as usual.

-:-:-

Sunset arrived then, and if Varhog had been preparing to say more, he lost his chance. Willow sprang up. Do you want to swim too, Sunset?

Yes, sunshine! I do. Will you take off my saddle?

Gladly. Willow unstrapped the saddle so swiftly and expertly that Varhog only had time to take it from her as she pulled it off Sunset's back. "Thank you, Yelloweyes. We'll just leave it up here and return for it before heading back to the city." She removed her boots and socks and braided her hair, then carefully climbed onto Sunset's back, moving on tiptoes so she could place her feet between sharp scales. Her dragon made it easier by stooping down as low as she could.

"Are you coming?"

"I'll be right behind you," Varhog promised as Black Thunder joined him on the peaks.

Willow gazed down at him a moment longer before tightly gripping Sunset's lowest neck spike and crying, Let's go!

-:-:-:-