Stavanger Bay windmill, windmill for the land

Ragna shuffled in place, an outlet for her excitement.  She felt as though first-name privileges, although enjoyed before, were more satisfying when willingly given.  Besides!  Now she had two names to call him by, depending on the occasion.  She liked that quite a bit.  "I'll call you both," she declared, then grew shy. "If that's okay?" The world was full of silly rules for manners. Perhaps this was one of them?

"Um..." she hummed, eyes darting about the area in search of inspiration.  But inspiration didn't come easily to her, and now when she truly needed it, it seemed to fail her entirely. All about her, he had said. Charon had chosen his name for his passion, but she didn't have passion. She liked things, yes, but she could think of nothing she loved but her family. "Um," she said again, more sheepishly than the last time. She didn't like to ask for help, but it seemed her only choice. "Help?"

Ragna pursed her lips in thought, focusing extra hard on deciding what she wanted her squire to be.  She thought again of flight, and thought of all the creatures she knew that had wings.  Almost all of the things with wings that she knew of were small.  Dragonflies, sparrows, and the like.  But she was able to recall the hazy memory of a great eagle soaring overhead.  The decision was made.  "I want my squire to be an eagle," she said solemnly.  "Where do I find one of those?"