39. A Formidable Threat

Varhog reminded everyone of Willow's twenty-third birthday to ensure that the Riders would hold a proper celebration. The merry party occurred twelve days before the anticipated departure, and it was nearly as joyous as Eragon and Arya's wedding festivities, for each and every Rider on the Isle loved Willow in a very dear way.

The carousing carried well into the night, and after Varhog accompanied Willow back to her room, where he gave her an embrace and she thanked him for his thoughtfulness in arranging the party, he went in search of Grintuk.

He didn't have to look long. Grintuk was in the Cave of the Eldunarí teaching the next dragon meant to hatch for the Urgralgra how to speak the difficult language from within her egg. As Varhog entered the domed chamber that housed the Eldunarí and dragon eggs intended for Riders, Grintuk looked up and greeted, "Varhog."

"Grintuk," Varhog returned. "I have come to discuss something with you. May I?"

"Certainly. Let's speak Urgralish. It will help the dragon become familiar with the language as she hears it spoken by two natives." They switched to their native tongue from the ancient language, which was what nearly all the Riders spoke on the island once they were able to. Most of them were multi-lingual but none so much as Varhog.

Varhog nodded, waiting patiently while Cuaroc performed his routine examination to ensure that Varhog's intentions were peaceful and he was who he appeared to be.

"I could guess what's on your mind," Grintuk observed once the dragon-headed man had finished.

"I'm sure you could," Varhog said, wearily kneeling across from Grintuk. "Everyone can. Even Willow these days. When we went to Lake Arya about a week ago, she told me that she wanted to be more than friends, Grintuk. I'm sure you can imagine what that meant to me. Since then I have tried to determine why I'm still so reluctant to confess my deep love and admiration for her. I finally realized that it is because I believe it will endanger her. That's the only satisfactory explanation. It was somewhat relieving to realize that I am not simply some cowering fool, though there must be some degree of that as well."

Grintuk smiled slightly. "No, Varhog. I doubt it. Your first reason is surely the most likely explanation. I understand your difficulty, brother, at least theoretically, since I'm not in love with a human. But even saying those words reminds me of the challenge you are facing. How many members of our race would ever be or have ever been able to say they were in love with a human to the point that they desired him or her as a mate? None, Varhog."

"Exactly," Varhog agreed. "And none would ever look upon the notion favorably. My own family would even be opposed, I'm sure of it. I know how I would have felt if someone had suggested the idea to me before I knew Willow. I would have been outraged by the thought. I don't know what to do, Grintuk. It's killing me to see her suffer and wonder. I want so desperately to lay her fears to rest and admit how I feel, how I have felt for so long, but where would that leave us? Say we do decide to marry," he paused and shook his head in frustration.

Varhog knew how impossible that would be for the Urgralgra to accept, but he forced himself to continue, "Say we do decide to marry. What then? If I take her to my village as my mate, they might tear her limb from limb for her supposed crimes in accepting one of the most honored rams of our race as her mate. If we show up unmarried but with the intention of joining, I fear the same danger."

"I'm sorry, Varhog. I would also have felt the same before knowing Willow. There were a few humans—Lady Nightstalker, Firesword, Stronghammer—whom the Urgralgra respected after the war, but those who did were mainly from the more southern tribes. All we heard up north in Anghelm was warped through the mad ramblings of King Kulkarvek, who hates humans—and dragons actually—above all living creatures. Anyone from the Delvhtuk clan could tell you that—"

"The king!" Varhog exclaimed, hanging his head in his hands as he despaired, "I had all but forgotten about him in my pondering. Ever since I have known we were going back to Alagaёsia, I have been wholly wrapped up in thinking about my family and my village, which is where Willow is most likely to go. You're right, Grintuk, though I am not as familiar with Kulkarvek as you."

Grintuk nodded. "Aye, he never looked on the idea of the Urgralgra being included in the pact with the dragons in the same way your uncle did. I think it infuriated him that he wasn't consulted, but I am quite sure that Firesword was barely aware of an Urgralgra monarch at the time, which is probably for the best. I consider the king the most formidable threat remaining in Alagaёsia, but he is always so secretive and withdrawn, as if possessed by memories of such terrible tragedies that he can barely function.

"Before the revised pact and the Games, he was content to sit on his throne in the barrows and stew over the demise of Galbatorix and Shruikan. When he learned they had been defeated, he was almost giddy with joy, but that was short lived once he learned about Firesword's other actions. Since then he has begun to be more violent again, and he demands the same from the rams in Anghelm and the closest settlements. There is no denying him. Some don't want to, some do, but no one can argue with him. Anyone who dares try ends up dead, which is one reason I have never returned for a visit. My family is among those who oppose the king, and I would hate to confront him for any reason. He is impossibly old, impossibly strong, and seems never to die no matter how many generations pass. It's an awful mystery. Those not sympathetic to him keep wishing death would finally put him out of his misery, along with the rest of our race, but so far it hasn't, no matter how old he gets."

"How long has his hostility been increasing?" Varhog wondered.

"After Black Thunder hatched for you is when it really began. I was one of the final few rams permitted to compete in the Games before Kulkarvek denied the rest of our clan from participating. When Murtagh arrived with Nar Garzhvog to deliver Kuldr's egg, King Kulkarvek was furious. It was good your uncle warned Murtagh to stay away from the city center and the barrows, otherwise he might have been killed. I remember meeting the king. It was terrifying, Varhog, and little frightens me. But he is two feet taller than I, which is enough to intimidate anyone as big as I am. He asked why you hadn't been the one to deliver the egg, but the idea of dragons and humans—particularly Murtagh and his red dragon, for some reason—was aggravating enough that he didn't care as much about you not being there. He ranted for some time about how much he hated humans and wanted to abolish them from the land. After you became a Rider, his worst altercations occurred each year a new human Rider was chosen. I was there when Willow was chosen, and my family has informed me that the same thing happened last year when Tomath became a Rider. His hatred of humans is universally known in Anghelm, but of human Riders, it is of an even more malicious, vengeful variety."

"I remember something similar when I briefly appeared before the king nine years ago," Varhog said. "I didn't know what to make of it at the time, and we are so far removed from it here on the Isle that it hasn't bothered me since. But now it concerns me. Especially how it might affect Willow. I will have to keep this in mind, but do you have any advice for me with regards to my more pressing dilemma?"

"Did you immediately love Willow?" Grintuk asked.

"No," Varhog replied without pause. "She was human and puny and weak. But she did impress me for how fearless and open she was. She had no preconceived notions about me being an Urgal."

"I also remember how strange that was when I met her, though she'd had a couple of years of friendship with you by then," Grintuk agreed. "But it was my first exposure to a human who didn't fear or dislike me even slightly. When did your feelings begin to change?"

"After she first defeated me," Varhog firmly answered.

"Yes, that's when I too realized how amazing she is," Grintuk admitted. "That's impossible for an Urgal to ignore. You already know what you must do, Varhog."

"But how can I?" Varhog demanded. "What if Willow were injured or killed? I would fly into a rage so terrible that I might kill my whole village." He breathed heavily for a moment, forcing himself to calm down. "I know they would never consider letting me take Willow as my mate unless she fought to prove herself and maybe even not then. But I'm not sure Willow cares enough about me to fulfill that requirement."

"Have you thought about not telling your village?"

"Of course! And I think that would be worse than any of the alternatives. If they found out indirectly, they might disown me on the spot, and that would mean terrible things for human-Urgralgra relations. If there was some way Willow and I could win the approval of my clan, I think it would mean very good things for both of our races, but I hate to think of what they might expect of her. It makes me furious that our people would demand she prove herself worthy of me when the truth is that I'm barely worthy to grovel on the ground at her feet."

"Well one thing is certain, Varhog. You need to tell her how you feel. And soon, especially if she has already told you she wants to be more than friends with you. It has been depressing to see your friendship with Willow hampered these past weeks. Willow and Varhog. That has been as constant as Firesword's stern indifference always was. Now that there is this unspoken confusion between you, it's affecting everything, especially Willow's happiness, which none of us can bear, least of all you. At least you would be able to speak openly with her about all of this, rather than ranting to Black Thunder and me. We can only help you so much, brother. This is between you and Willow."

"And our races," Varhog bitterly repeated. "I wish it was only between me and Willow, Grintuk. I would have told her long ago that I adore her, but we can't pursue a relationship without inevitably involving every member of our respective races who would condemn our choice and seek to drive us apart. But you're right. And I will tell her. If by some unlikely miracle she agrees to become my mate," he rubbed his eyes in exhaustion—voicing that thought was still difficult for him, "we will deal with all the rest that might follow when we must." He abruptly stood, wanting nothing more than to sleep. "Thank you, Grintuk. I appreciate being able to discuss this with you. It helps to speak aloud sometimes."

Grintuk smiled. "I understand, Varhog. Good luck." As Varhog turned to go, Grintuk suddenly said, "Wait, Varhog."

Varhog stopped and looked over his shoulder while Grintuk continued, "If Willow accepts you, don't kiss her. And don't let her kiss you. At least not until you're mates. If you really haven't ever learned from some of the mated rams what to expect once you take a mate, it seems only right that I warn you. That was something they strongly emphasized."

"Why?" Varhog curiously wondered.

"You will immediately feel an overpowering urge to make love that no Urgal can resist. Something about our hot blood. At least that's what they said."

Varhog raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Is that so? It's hard for me to imagine Willow wanting to kiss me, but I appreciate that. If she ever did, I'm sure it would be in the friendly, caring manner other humans feel when sharing such an expression. She might not like if all the rest were to follow against her will." He chuckled. "Thank you, Grintuk. Truly. Good night."

-:-:-

After Varhog left, Grintuk returned his attention to his task. The dragon inside the deep-purple, bronze-streaked egg mentally thought, It was helpful hearing you converse in Urgralish with another member of your race. This is a difficult language to learn.

Yes, I can imagine, Grintuk replied, especially for one accustomed to the ancient language, though as a native speaker, Urgralish seems the most natural thing in the world to me. He chuckled and felt a small wave of amusement from the tiny creature.

I am anxious to escape these confines, the dragon confessed. I have been in here for so many decades, over a century in fact. It becomes quite tedious.

I believe it, Grintuk said. You need only wait another year. Then your time will come.

Their conversation was suddenly interrupted by the sorrowful mental tones of one of the Eldunarí. Beware Kulkarvek, she mournfully droned. He is a formidable threat to a dragon. I died—that is, my flesh body was killed—at his hand, and for many years thereafter I was a prisoner to his wicked will.

Grintuk stiffened in surprise. Who are you? he anxiously wondered in the ancient language, which was how the Eldunarí had addressed him. He didn't recognize the mental voice of this dragon and was sure it wasn't one of the Eldunarí who regularly interacted with and instructed the Riders. The tone of the dragon's consciousness had been tinged with madness, and Grintuk wondered if it was one of those that had been trapped in Galbatorix's thrall. All had recovered, but some had never fully regained their previous level of clarity or insight. He waited for a response, but none came.

Please, he tried again, we might have need of this information in the future. What is your name?

The dragon had cut off her thoughts as abruptly as she had opened them, and no matter how Grintuk coaxed, he received no further communication from the mysterious Eldunarí.

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