a Newcomer Approacheth

[stargayzer]

If a rider were to fly over the valley this damp morning, he would see what appeared to be a small boy, possibly injured, laboriously making his way along a rocky path toward the Weyr tunnel. The lad limped severely as he struggled along, bearing the burden of a large duffel packed with all his belongings in the world.

If the dragon, however, were listening, he would hear not a boy's voice, but a young man's, and the curses floating on the breeze would burn his senstive ears.

Caltrain stopped, breathless, searing dragons from the sky with his oaths for choosing to live in mountain caves and extinct volcanos. Why couldn't they stroll the plains like sensible runners did? The valley approach hadn't been too difficult until it began to climb the slope toward the tunnel. Now, rocky leavings of volcanic vomit riddled the path, and his short leg was having a troll of a time making the trek. He'd trade half his own hide for a sturdy runner right now, and not one of the swift bandy-legged beasts he'd ridden race-training most of his nineteen turns. A little, cobby, shaggy, knob-kneed runner with fat haunches and an agile tread. A mountain pony.

He gazed toward the Weyr above, wondering what sort ... if any ... of runners the herds there held. The fact that there were dragons at all in the long-empty caves still tickled his spine with a hint of rumor and fancy. Had he not, himself, seen them flying overhead just the evening before....

It was, however, a hopeful trust in that rumorish tickle that had led him here. He rubbed his jaw, still bruised black where it had been cracked by a cruelly swung hay rake less than a sevenday before. No more abuse at the hands of bullies -- or at least he hoped the Weyr herds were tended by decent human beings. He sighed and continued, wondering for the hundredth time if this was all a great folly. For all he knew, the Weyr didn't even keep runners.

If not, he'd tend milchbeasts or meatbeasts or even beasts for wool -- insect-infested, stupid things that they were. What he needed was a change in life -- and his journey had gifted him with that ten times over.

The path grew more rocky, though he came upon areas where it looked as if people had been working at clearing and shoring it up, as he approached the enormous tunnel. Once he stepped into its great maw, however, the footing was smooth. He looked overhead, amazed at the ceiling far, far above, burned smooth as glass from whatever run of lava had last passed through.

Far ahead, beyond the other end of the thick mountain wall, was light. Inhaling deeply, quelling his desire to quake, and wishing once again that he'd been able to get a letter of recommendation from his employer before he had run off, Caltrain moved toward his new life.

[M'kel]

Guard duty. It had to be one of the most despicable, dreadfully boring tasks a Weyrleader could possibly come up with. It mattered little that such watchfulness had been required in Weyrs as far back as the Records went, M'kel was still certain that it had been initiated, and continued today, as a means of spiting young riders. They had barely been in this time long enough for Pern to even know of their existence, and there were no other dragons except for those in this one Weyr. The chances that an attack would be launched or attempted intruders spotted so soon were highly unlikely.

Grunting in exasperation, M'kel shifted his uncomfortable rump on the hard stone, elbowing the bronze hide behind him in the process. Tirenth returned the grunt, swinging his head around to eye his rider reproachfully. This isn't so bad, you know. Others must do worse. The placidly whirling eyes and undeniable dragon logic dared M'kel to disagree.

With an expansive sigh, M'kel waved his hand, admitting defeat. It was true that watch position was preferrable to scouring the countryside, mapping the new Pern and its settlements. Less important dragonriders had rightfully been assigned those arduous chores, as the images all dragonriders had come to accumulate of their past land now no longer applied. The Holds had grown and spread, the land had been shaped, if only subtly, by natural forces, all resulting in just enough of a shift for a dragon to possibly become lost between. Thus, he had to admit, sitting up on this sunny post was more appealing than flying straight for hours on end with no interesting end in sight.

"It's still ridiculous," he humphed, refusing to meet the whirling eyes. "You're a bronze, and I'm your rider! We ought to be meeting with Lord Holders, or establishing new protocols, or something exciting like that!" M'kel pondered on these delightful prospects for a moment. The Weyrwoman had been thoroughly enticing when she whispered such promises in his ear, but then again, the liquid honey she'd spoken when asking that he sit guard duty today had been just as enticing, and look where it had gotten him. "Besides...no one's ever going to come here. We barely just arrived here ourselves!"

Tirenth regarded him for a few moments more, then swung his head back to gaze disinterestedly over the landscape. Actually, there is a person down there. I've watched him make his way up from the cove, where I believe a ship has landed. The boy is now in the Tunnel, on his way in, if you'd like to go meet him. M'kel stared up at his dragon in shock, mouth agape at this surprising statement. After all, that is your job today, isn't it? The innocent query was too much, compounded by his bronze's impudence at not bothering to mention such a thing earlier, and M'kel found himself laughing and pounding his dragon's hide in amusement and exasperation all at once.

"You snide little beast you, why didn't you tell me?" Tirenth stretched elaborately in response, not deigning to reply. "Well, yes, I guess you did tell me now, but I meant sooner. Oh, all right then, let's go meet this intruder." Although M'kel was rather disgruntled at his dragon's behaviour and the prospect of an unwanted visitor in the Weyr, he was grateful for the reprieve from his tedious chore. He mounted the smug bronze, and the pair drifted smoothly down to land impressively at the mouth of the Tunnel, blotting out a fair amount of the light as they did so. "You big oaf, now I can't see..." M'kel muttered, straining to make out the figure in the Tunnel. "Who goes there?" he called, properly aware of his required duties in such an instance.

[stargayzer]

Darkness descended.

Caltrain stopped short, a mere tenpace from the end of the long tunnel, and wondered for a moment where the sun had gone. An eclipse? A storm?

No, something appeared to be blocking the tunnel! Something ....

Large ....

And.....

The voice that followed the blocking of the light explained much, but did little to soothe the traveller's rattled nerves. There was only one thing that great brassy-colored obstruction could be, if a voice was drifting down from above it, echoing through the tunnel till he could hear the words three times behind him that had sounded once ahead.

"Who goes there?"

The young man stood for a moment, uncertain what to do? Respond? Run? Wet himself? For all the tales he'd heard of dragons in his youth, not a one had mentioned they were big enough to block the light from entering a tunnel this vast and high. Boyhood tauntings of dragons who swallowed people whole spattered against Caltrain's thoughts, and he shoved them away, knowing better.

Or at least thinking he did.

"Dragons did not eat people!" the memory of his mother's voice, trying to soothe away her young son's tears, stiffened his spine with determination and, despite his better reasonings, he strode forward.

He stepped into the sunlight directly before the great bronze beast, and strained his neck to see the rider far above him. "Hallo!" he called, "My name is Caltrain, son of Goran and Lucil, and late of Swiftwind Runnerbeast Stables, where I was an exercise rider." He brushed back his wild blonde-streaked hair from his eyes (and it promptly fell right back into his face) as he tried to shift for a better view of the man on the dragon. "I would like to apply for a position here -- surely there are herds? Although I work with runners, I've a way with all beasts, and would like a chance to prove myself an asset to the Weyr."

He stepped to the side, fully self-conscious that his limp was so apparent and would mark him as damaged, still trying hard to get a look at the rider. He decided at that point that, had he had himself a dragon, none of the torment he'd received at the hands of bullies would ever have happened. Yes, being adragonback put one at a distinct advantage!

"It's an honor to meet you and your fine bronze, rider ..... ?"

Caltrain decided it prudent to stop the chatter at that point, as it appeared the dragon was watching him with interest ... and possibly even amusement.

Was that even possible? Certainly he imagined the sparkle in those gigantic eyes....

[M'kel]

A talkative young man burst abruptly from the darkness of the Tunnel, causing Tirenth to raise his head slightly, eyes whirling faster. As the speech continued, M'kel quirked a brow at this strange fellow, following the lad's movement with his head. The bronze rider was so surprised at the seemingly endless flow of words that he hardly noticed that the boy had finally paused, unsure of M'kel's name. "M'kel," he blurted, then clamped his mouth shut again, sorting back through the lad's speech to determine what it was the boy had said.

Ah, train runners or other beasts? Well, there certainly weren't enough workers in the Lower Caverns, nor near enough to tend the herds, not that the pathetic deliveries of beasts so far from the Holds warranted more than a beastmaster or two. The boy limps, Tirenth informed his rider, always more attentive to such minor details. Limped, did he? Well, then, how did he intend to manage runners? Tirenth gave M'kel a reproving glance at such a minor consideration, having merely informed his rider of a peculiar trait of this human, then returned his gently whirling eyes to their lazy stare at the boy.

Finally, M'kel recovered his necessary, proud bronze rider composure, and slid down his dragon's side to land easily in front of the lad, Caltrain, or something like that. He raised his hand to forestall any further speech. "Welcome to Araelen Weyr, Caltrain. Where you come from no longer matters if you are to be a man of the Weyr. Your loyalties must lie nowhere but to this Weyr, as should those of all Pernese, but most especially the workers in the Lower Caverns.

"As to your finding a 'position', here, so long as you can even scrape a pot, we'll take you. Unfortunately," M'kel rolled his eyes expressively, "we did not bring many Lower Caverns workers with us, only the mates of dragonriders, so we are rather lacking at the moment. It seems that few Pernese are eager to serve their Weyr, as you are one of the first to arrive and offer your services. As well," he gestured at the pathetic herd not far from where they stood on a crudely fenced grassy knoll, "we have few beasts at the moment. Nonetheless, if the current beastmaster finds you suitable, your services will undoubtedly be needed."

[stargayzer]

Caltrain nodded slightly, and said, "Well met, Rider M'kel, and I'll be happy to help where I can. As far as allegiance," he smiled, hoping that he wouldn't offend, "You must remember that your arrival took many people by surprise. Many believe Pern will never again see Thread, and those expected that we'd never again see dragons."

He stepped cautiously to the left, to get a look toward the herd M'kel indicated. He gave a whistle and shook his head. "Some of what I'm seeing is a problem of feed and care ... several of those females appear to be carrying, and if we can get good nutrition into them, they should drop their young and increase the stock. In the meanwhile, I scoped out a number of rather large wild wherry flocks down below ... if we can get the lead-creatures and bring them in, disable their flight tendons enough to keep them from escaping, eventually some of their cohorts will straggle in, and you'll have a private, self-reproducing flock inside the bowl perimeter. Ah...." again, he realized he'd been babbling out of turn and turned an apologetic smile on the man. "... that is, if your Beastmaster approves."

His eyes scanned the herd, and the surrounding area, but didn't see a runner anywhere. Ah well... at least he could be useful.

[M'kel]

As the boy danced around the question of allegiance, M'kel couldn't help but grin slightly, though there was a suspicious gleam in his eyes. It wouldn't be below one of those Lord Holders to send spies to the Weyr, but even if this lad was a spy, he wouldn't be anywhere near the places were important Weyr business was actually discussed. The most of Araelen Caltrain would see was the Lower Caverns and pasture for the herds. So, if he was a spy, let him be. M'kel would personally keep an eye on the lad, for the first while at least, to reassure himself of the other's sincerity.

Once again, the lad began babbling, this time about the condition of the Weyr's herd, which M'kel knew was deplorable. As the speech continued to flow, and Caltrain even suggested the securing of a wherry flock, the dragonrider was thoroughly amused at this strange display but had to respect the fact that the boy obviously knew what he was talking about, all the same. It is nice to have a juicy wherry from time to time, Tirenth piped in, and M'kel had to wave his hands once more, both to appease dragon and quiet boy.

"All right. You've passed the test," M'kel grinned cheerily, arching a brow in the most superior way. Although the dragonrider was making 'the test' up on the spot, it now sounded rather plausible to his ears. Besides, they needed someone with this lad's obvious experience. "We have no Beastmaster. Unfortunately enough, no dragonrider had decided to take him as a mate." The bronze rider chuckled. "You are our Beastmaster, now. You obviously know a thing or two about these animals, though all Tirenth needs to know is whether they're edible or not, and beyond that, any further knowledge seems unimportant.

"Yet, the herd is pathetic," his lip curled slightly in disdain. "If you can bring it up to any kind of respectable condition, especially for the palate of bronze dragons," Tirenth nodded his head firmly, a human trait he'd picked up from his rider, "we'll keep you around, and we'll take care of you. You'll find life in the Weyr, in the Lower Caverns, of the sort that every working class Pernese would kill for. Though they don't seem to know it yet."

[stargayzer]

Caltrain could not suppress his grin, oblivious to the fact that it revealed the gap in his teeth. Beastmaster! He'd never dared dream such a thing, hoping only to find a position. He looked over the scraggly herd again thoughtfully -- it would be work, and it would take time, but he'd indeed build it up.

"I thank you heartily, Lor-- Sir---" he scowled, the smile still sparking in his eyes. "M'kel, do Dragonriders even have titles?" Laughing, he shrugged. "Thank you, anyway! If you can point me to the barracks, I'll stow my pack, and get right to work on wherry pens and snares. There is plenty of light timber just outside the tunnel -- I can have a sizable temporary pen erected in three days ... less if you have a few riders you'd like to give a light task to." He then turned to Tirenth, and bowed low. "And your noble Tirenth will have juicy wherry flesh to snack upon soon!"

"I have also spied some wild fodder growing in various areas, foodstuffs that are highly nutritious, but in this day of cultured grains and forage, most beastkeepers don't think of using such things to feed their herds." He eyed the beastpens for a few moments, and noted a good sized, though underfed, young bullock. The beast was looking toward them, a bright expression on its face and curiousity in its eyes, rather than the white-wall expression of panic the others displayed in sight of the dragon. "That bright fellow there has been used as a burden beast. He's no runner, of course, but he'll help me haul in a sizable supply in no time. We'll fatten those beasts up just fine, and I'll remove the pregnant females from the eating herd," again a bow to Tirenth, this time in apology, "To be sure they bring forth an increase. And if that youngster performs well in the yoke, he'll find himself serving the females new young rather than the dragons their breakfast."

Caltrain was enthused, his eyes flashing brighter, their amber flecks almost swirling dragon-like. He stopped with a chuckle and shook his head.

"I apologize, Bronzerider," he said with a smile. "I do tend to get carried away.

[M'kel]

The boy's enthusiasm was certainly overwhelming. M'kel had only been in Caltrain's presence for a few moments, yet he already felt tired by the endless thinking out loud and suddenly longed for the quiet of the watch. Still, it was heartwarming, he admitted, disgusted with his soft heart. This seemed a lad who'd had few causes to be truly pleased in life, and that sparkle in his eyes was definitely genuine.

Besides, M'kel's thoughts turned to more personal matters, the Weyrwoman would undoubtedly be delighted that he had found her an apt Beastmaster. This could definitely win him a few points on the scale, and the queen should rise anytime... Tirenth began to hum at the thought, his eyes whirling with excitement and pleasure, which were only emphasized when the eager boy addressed him with descriptions of tasty meat. M'kel grinned at his dragon's behaviour, not sure himself whether the dragon was more excited at the prospect of catching the queen or of having juicy wherry close on hand.

Once Caltrain had finally halted himself, with a chuckled apology, M'kel was no longer in a disinterested mood. He grinned back, although ensuring not to appear too comradely with a Lower Caverns worker, and nodded. "You've just answered your own question. Bronze rider, Tirenth's rider, dragonrider, or even M'kel, future Weyrleader would suffice." This final bit was delivered with a wink. Yes, he had matured a lot in the Turns since Impressing Tirenth, but there were still times when he forgot the wise, somber pose he should strike with impressionable youth.

"The Lower Caverns are over there. The women inside should help you to proper accomodations, and I'll find a few young blue and green riders to help you with that...er...enclosure of yours. If you need anything else," M'kel paused expectantly, unsure whether the boy would be rushing off to the Lower Caverns immediately or remaining for a few minutes.

[stargayzer]

Caltrain, a bit surprised by M'kel's apparent certainty of attaining Weyrleader status, couldn't help grinning. He nodded, "Thank you again, M'kel, I hope I can make a difference here."

He again looked toward Tirenth and bowed slightly. "And thank you, too, Tirenth, it's an honor to meet you."

====

[Later that day, dot dot dot <G>]

As he hacked fodder (and tried to keep the young bullock from eating it as fast as he could cut, bind and pile), Caltrain hummed a spritely toon. He'd be whistling, but ever since that tooth had been knocked out, his whistles came out sounding like a rather damaged teakettle. The sledge he'd fashioned for the beast to pull was once again piled high with good food for the scraggly little herd, and he bound it down with the rope the lower cavern folks had provided for the purpose.

Leading the young beast through the tunnel, they turned right, and stopped before the small, fairly shallow, niche in the wall of the bowl that he had chosen for a feed hold. Already, the little cave was piled high with stored fodder that should dry nicely, and provide nutritious feed for the herd for several days. Caltrain figured that it would take two such trips each sevenday to keep the storehouse full, at least until the herd expanded. Hopefully by then the dragonriders would have made enough contact with local grain-hold and hay-farmers to increase the supplies. He might even set up some record keeping, as he used to do at the runnerhold, and ask a blue or greenrider to take him around to various holds to help solicit tithes. Having been a'runnerback since he was a tot, he knew where all the best feed was grown, and some of the best was not all that far from the Weyr.

Several young workers ... both riders and a drudge or two ... helped him to offload the fodder. "This is the last for now," he said, "Thank you!" He returned the bullock to the pen, now divided so the pregnant females were in a more sheltered section and separate from the milling younglings, males, and old and spent beasts. He frowned slightly ... there were far too many of the latter. All were happily munching on the first installment of the better food -- the old hay that had been previously supplied was on his list of chores. Far too much of it was moldy and inedible, and would have to be sorted and disposed of before it wound up killing some hungry beast.

A couple of dragonlengths across the short end of the bowl, a number of workers were busily assembling the stripped young saplings that had been gathered into the criss-cross fencing that Caltrain had demonstrated to them. They had one side of the wherry pen nearly done already, and as he started toward them, his limp exaggerated due to having been so many hours without a break, a green dragon landed with another large bundle of timber. To Caltrain's amusement, the young dragons themselves seemed to have found pulling up very young trees and stripping them quickly of leaves and branches entertaining. The greenrider had warned him that it might not last, as they would get bored of it quickly, but he was glad to have been able to speed up the process even this much. They wouldn't be a fraction as far along if the dragon's hadn't taken to the game.

Caltrain again thanked the workers, who seemed enthusiastic (probably because the promise of wherry meat had been relayed to their dragons), and bent his wirey back to working alongside them. Most of the larger and more tender wherries on the island were jungle creatures, fat and sluggish, but they lived in the dense cover of the forests. It was hard for dragons to hunt in that environment, if not impossible, and the wherries that occupied the cleared lands and fields tended to be smaller, tougher, and the meat had a strong, gamey odor and taste.

Therefore, the first thing Caltrain had done after stowing his belongings and accepting a slice of warm if gritty bread and a cup of klah from the kitchen staff, was to head into the most promising locations near the Weyr and set snares. With the abundance of spoor he'd seen, he was certain that by dusk he'd have gathered a good sized start to the flock.