Barefoot Blues

[Delden]

Normally, Delden was not a great fan of klah.  It gave him the jitters.  Now, draining the dregs of his third bitter mug, he grimaced.  Today, there was not enough klah in the world.  Ah, there it was, the twitch of his fingers.  Or was it just shaking?  He’d been up all night again, unable to sleep with strangers so close, so his eyes were too tired to discern between the two.

What to do, what to do.  For once, he’d managed to keep from muttering to himself.  A couple of refugees from the siege were now sharing his cramped quarters, and unlike him, they were deeply asleep.  He carefully avoided staring at the open-mouthed man to his left.  Who’d want to wake up to a mad-eyed, quivering Harper glaring him down?  And he didn’t resent their intrusion in the least, but he felt a bit like a trespasser in his own domain.  An exhausted, jumpy one.

He left the empty cup on the table and stood, suppressing a sigh.  He had the fleeting, cowardly wish that he was back in that tiny hold to the south, with Jewez and Ulda and all the children singing their Teaching Ballads as he accompanied them on the drums.  But no, he’d returned, just before the drums announced…His stomach roiled, and it was just as well.  The Harper Hall was in a state to suit his intestinal distress.

All was chaos, with Master Robinton gone.  No one could make heads or tails of anything, refugees were still trickling in, Masters were scratching their heads over the issue of succession, Journeymen were terrified to leave the relative safety of the Hall, and Apprentices were twiddling their thumbs in the absence of daily tasks and lessons.  Hanging over everything was the threat of that tunnelsnake Mikhen.

His hand twitched.  In lieu of smashing the mug against the far wall—a rather violent notion for the usually-placid Journeyman—Delden abruptly left his chamber.  It was just after dawn, and though the normal hustle and bustle of the Hall would be beginning, after the past few sevendays, he was not sure what to expect anymore.

There was a fierce itch somewhere among his innards that he simply couldn’t scratch.  He wanted, needed, to do something, anything to dispel the horrific sense of precarious balance.  The slightest breath, it seemed, could plunge the Hall into a downward spiral.  He shivered, and not because of the cold that radiated up from the soles of his bare feet.

He needed direction, purpose.  It was all well and good to do what he could to help the refugees, but next to giving up his bed and listening to their woes, that was scarcely anything at all.  And Master Tedgil, his usual advisor, was of course locked up with all the other Masters, all knotted up in Pern’s problems like a good Harper.  The pall of inaction was suffocating.  Though he was far from a social butterfly, he fervently wished that someone, from somewhere, would come along and tell him what sharding good he could do!

[Lusean]

With the Hatching at Fort recently completed, L'sean had found himself with a lack of much to do aside from his regular drills and the call to Fall.  There was no rush to Search well before a Clutch was even on the Sands (or even bred), and so the past few days had been spent partially in leisure.  The previous day, he'd taken a good amount of time simply washing and oiling his dragon.  The evening had been spent again at Desith's side, leaned up against the blue's warm chest as they watched the moon rise together and simply... Talked.  It had been extremely relaxing, but even L'sean (who usually hated doing "work" of any kind) was beginning to feel restless.  And so, when he'd been asked to run some supplies down to the Harper Hall  (no doubt because of the influx of refugees), L'sean had been happy to lend a hand.  It wasn't particularly hard work, though he could have done without being woken at the break of dawn to do it.

He was still yawning as Desith came out of between and circled to land in the Harper courtyard.  It was still mostly deserted (it was still quite early), but that was fine.  He didn't want to cause a stir with the... guests, and besides, it meant Desith could stretch his wings a little.  It did mean, however, that he'd have to carry most of the supplies in himself, and to be frank, he had no idea where to go.

Perhaps there is someone awake?   Desith was always the voice of reason, and he snorted gently at L'sean's back as he took a step forward to gently touch his nose against the young man's shoulder.  I think starting at the beginning is always best.

With a smile, L'sean put an arm around his dragon's muzzle (or as far as he was able, anyway) and pressed his cheek against the dragon's soft hide.  He stayed that way for a minute or so before he finally moved off, half jogging and half walking in his haste to get inside.  It looked like it was about to rain, and he didn't fancy getting wet.

And it didn't look like he was watching where he was going, either-- He walked right into another person, and fell straight onto his bottom in the process.   He was too stunned to be angry, and simply stared up at the man for a few moments until at last he spoke.

"...I'm sorry,"  He breathed as he got to his feet, even though a tiny part of him argued that it was the other man's fault for not looking up.  "...Say, um--"  He pointed one finger, and then hesitated again.  He wasn't quite sure how to word this.

"..I need... Uh, Help.  Are you busy?"  He offered the other man his best, most charming smile.  He was used to such things getting him what he wanted.  After all, he was a pretty face.  "It shouldn't take too long.  And I'd be grateful if you did."    His smile grew.  "..Please?"

[Delden]

He fell into the furthest depths of thought as he paced, paying no heed to where he was going.  Of course, that was nothing new.  Even the greenest apprentice soon learned to look out for Delden, lost in his own mind or scribbling away at his private notes as he loped across the courtyard.  Moments of attention to the present during the monotonous bits of his daily routine were rare.

Just currently his musings were of a morose bent, with a frenzied undercurrent as a result of too much klah.  A tune was beginning to wriggle in the back of his head, and his fingers drummed along his thigh, trying to tease it out.  First came the strings, glimmering gloomily into focus.  He could hear them.  It was strange, really.  For someone with a big fat wherry egg in the way of musical talent, he certainly could write scores.  They always sounded perfect in his mind, but it frustrated him that he personally could not bring them to fruition.  It was an exquisite feeling, though, to listen to an accomplished band of Harpers playing his own ballads.

Delden began to hum under his breath, his pace quickening with the tempo of his unfolding song.  His eyes remained locked on his own bare feet, and so it was that he had no inkling of warning when the blue rider came crashing into him.

“Erruk!”  I strangled sort of noise escaped him as he staggered back, arms windmilling.  He, too, fell, jarring his elbow against the stone and straining to suppress a curse.  He scrambled to his feet, all legs and arms and nerves.  The other man—a rider!—seemed hostile, and Delden’s mouth snapped shut, cutting off the apology he was about to make.

Perhaps he imagined it, though, for the next instant, the stranger was smiling.  The Journeyman did not relax.  “Oh, err…sorry there, sir.”  His brows knit, and his face pulled into a thoughtful frown.  “Are you injured?  The Healer ought to be up at this hour…”  He trailed off in the face of the rider’s winning smile.

“Help?  I will, of course, assist in any way I can, though if you’re in need of a Harper Master, your luck is probably out.  They’re all holed up in conference, as far as I know.  Oh, I do apologize!”  He did so hate to distress anyone, and it was far too early for Delden to be prepared for any sort of social interaction, particularly with a dragonrider.  The klah had made him edgy as well.  Indeed, that rushed speech was probably the most he’d spoken in the past sevenday, outside of his duties.

“What is it you need, exactly?”

[Lusean]

"Injured?  No, no-- I'm-- I'm fine!"  L'sean stuttered out, surprised by the man's.. Thoughtfulness?  It was nice to have someone who was actually more worried about another person than themselves.  As a result, the Blue Rider's first impression of the man increased greatly.  After all, he was a Harper.  Harpers were all kind, weren't they?  And intelligent.  Of course, none of this had anything exactly to do with lifting things from his dragon's neck, but L'sean had gotten into the habit of analyzing others.  He blamed it on his dragon's search sense... Although, L'sean was much more shallow than his dragon.  His blue didn't ever seem to care what anyone was wearing or how mean they looked.

"And it's alright,"  L'sean added cheerfully now that the awkward moment had passed.  "I wasn't looking where I was going, either."  There.  They were both to blame.  "And I don't really need a Master Harper, just.."  He knew the work he needed help with wasn't particularly inviting... But he couldn't do it all himself.  not in a timely fahion, anyway.  It'd taken him plus a few Candidates to help load his beast down in a span of five minutes.  That meant it'd take about an hour to do it all himself.

"I came from Fort,"  He said at last.  "With supplies for some of the refugees.  There's a lot of it, and I just wanted some help unloading-- Maybe directions to a place where I can set some of the things down?"  He looked to the other man hopefully.  "Oh!  I'm L'sean, by the way.  My dragon is Desith-- You'll see him in a moment--"  He was already walking away, and upon realizing that the man wasn't followed him, he turned on his heel and looked curiously back at the Harper.

"You are coming, aren't you?"  It was expectant and hopeful at the same time.  "If we do it quickly, we could be done in just a little while.  I can't pay you much,"  He only had a few marks to his name at the moment after those boots he'd recently purchased.. "...But I'll see what I can do, if that's what you're looking for."  He was speaking in a bit of a rush himself, but that just L'sean's way.  He was either as  sluggish as a sleepy dragon or as active as a child, depending n the mood.  And right now, it seemed his energetic side was definitely dominating.

[Delden]

Delden had the unsettling feeling that he was being estimated, and beneath that regard, he shrunk somewhat.  He dreaded attention being focused upon him—unless, of course, he was teaching.  But nothing in the rider’s manner seemed hostile, so he forced himself to smile, though it was a pale imitation of his best.  Stop slouching, he admonished himself, forcing his shoulders straighter.  He listened, all attentive, as L’sean described his needs.

Well, Shards, it was something to do, wasn’t it?  Just what he’d been looking for, dropped in from dragonwing.  He rubbed his still-throbbing elbow as he thought.  “Well,” he began, eyes roaming as he considered all the places he knew.  “Many of our storerooms now have sleeping bodies shoved in them, but last I checked there was one still free on the eastern side…I suppose we’d best put the supplies you’ve brought there.  Someone can sort through them later, once the rest of the Hall has woken.”

The belated introduction caught him off guard again, and before he could offer his own name, he was pricked by the notion of meeting a dragon.  How about that; a dragon!  Fear-tinged anticipation shuddered through him, jangling nerves still riled by the klah.

The Journeyman was startled to realize that the dragonrider was already off, and before he could instruct his surprised legs that it was time to move again, L’sean was already coaxing him onward.  “Oh, well, yes,” he blurted dumbly.  He started forward.

After several seconds of awkward silence, he realized he had never introduced himself.  “I’m Delden.  Pleased to make your acquaintance, Rider L’sean.”  The formality of first meetings seemed to spark a memory in him, for he jumped guiltily.  “And how rude of me, not to offer a cup of klah to our guest this early!  If you need some, I would be glad to fetch a pot before we start.”  He looked down at his feet again, abashed at his breach of courtesy.

Abruptly the omission went clean out of his head, for they had come upon Desith.  “Oh…Shells!” he murmured appreciatively.  His muddy eyes widened as they examined the blue—he had never seen a dragon up so close before.

[L'sean]

"Well, the storeroom is a good place to start."  L'sean was all about letting someone else handling the sorting work.  It was boring, and he didn't want to be yelled at, either.  "Just helping carry it will be a big enough help-- And no Klah for me, please.  I had some before I left."  L'sean could have perfect manners when he wanted to... And right now, this Harper hadn't given him any reason to be anything but pleasant.  "This way!"  ...Though, now that he thought of it, this man likely knew where the courtyard was.  Oh well.

"It's good to meet you, Delden,"  L'sean chatted back at the man, particularly animated for it being so early in the morning.  He didn't like rising early, but once he was awake, he was awake for good. "L'sean is just fine, if you don't mind."  L'sean liked being spoken to with respect, but once was usually enough.  "My friends call me 'Sean,"  He added helpfully.  "If you'd prefer that."  After all, this man was kind.  He might as well be a friend.

The Harper's exclamation caught him by surprise, and he balked as they entered the courtyard.  The Bluerider glanced around for a few moments, searching for whatever-it-was that might have upset the other man, before he realized...  "Oh, you meant Desit!h!"  L'sean laughed and loped toward the tall blue in quick strides.  He liked introducing his blue to new people, and Desith was a wonderful dragon to meet.  Already he had had taken notice of the Harper, and huffed softly as he extended his neck and blew in the other man's direction.

"You can come closer," L'sean offered.  "All dragons are gentle, mostly... But Desith is the friendliest blue you'll meet,"  He stated proudly and without any hesitation.  "Go on,"  He encouraged, lightly grabbing Desith behind one headknob.  "You can touch him."  People always seemed afraid to touch dragons when they first met them... But dragons didn't understand being on ceremony for the most part.  And besides, they liked being scratched.

Hello, Harper,  Desith murmured to Delden, eyes whirling green and blue.  He was unusually vocal for a dragon, and didn't really mind talking to people other than his Rider... as long as it was for very brief periods.  Do I make you nervous?

[Delden]

Call him ‘Sean?  Delden was taken aback by this invitation.  Few people at the Hall would label him as a “friend.”  It wasn’t that he didn’t get along with them.  No, he got on well with most everyone, but in an idle sort of way.  Of course, they did tend to come spilling their secrets or blubbering their woes to him, but he supposed it was more a cathartic thing than a true camaraderie.

“Oh, err, thank you.”  He felt compelled to respond in kind, but he had no nickname.  “People don’t really call me anything but Delden.  Except my mother.  She sometimes calls me Delly.”

Now, why on Pern had he said that?  The tips of his ears reddened slightly, and he once more turned intense scrutiny on his feet.  But his discomfiture was to be short-lived, for all of a sudden L’sean was laughing, and there was a blue dragon whiffling in his face!

“Touch…him?”  It came out as a startled sort of squeak, and his heart began to pound.  His brain was rather against the idea, but he couldn’t help himself.  Gingerly, oh-so-gingerly, his hand raised of its own accord to brush against the leathery hide.

Just as he was about to exclaim over its softness, he flinched as an alien voice filled his head.  Shells!

“Hello, Desith!”  The dragon’s comment, laced with amusement if the Harper was any judge, made his ears redden further, and his face.  “Oh, well.  You see.  I’ve never been graced with the opportunity to be near one such as yourself.”  Delden smiled, one of his real beatific ones.  It came easily despite his embarrassment.  A dragon had spoken to him!

[Lusean]

L'sean couldn't help the grin that spread across his face as Delden interacted with his dragon.  He'd always been of the opinion that Desith was the best sort of dragon for anyone to meet:  He was personable and humble, wasn't afraid to engage in conversation and enjoyed the presence of other people.  Desith was smart, too smart to be a dragon, in L'sean's opinion.  The Blue sensed his rider's pride and thrummed softly... And in intensified into a full-throated croon as Delden rubbed his hide.  Desith leaned into the caress, his innermost eyelids closing over his eyes as he huffed a long, contented breath.  Content to let the two have their moment meeting, L'sean simply crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against his dragons neck.

"Delly, huh?"  He smiled widely, his teeth flashing.  "My mother used to call me Goose.  I didn't even know what a goose was until I saw a farmer with a dead one on one of my first Gathers,"  He chatted away easily, quite content to just talk the other man's ear off if given the opportunity.  "He wanted two marks for its meat because it was rare, and a mark for the feathers to make.. pillows and such, I suppose."  He frowned suddenly, as the memory had stirred something in him.  It didn't happen often, but L'sean was sometimes reminded at odd times about his parents, and his mother in particular.  He'd never had much love for his father, but his mother? ..He missed her.

He shook himself out of the mood quickly, and turned abruptly to another subject.  "What do you think of meeting your first dragon?  Wish you had taken up Candidacy instead of a harp?"  He wasn't taunting, but he was teasing.  "Don't worry,"  He laughed cheerfully as Desith stepped forward, his head practically pressed against the other man's chest, though it outsized the man's torso by far.   "He's gentle.  He won't hurt you."

You do not need to be afraid of me.  You are graced?  I am a blue,  The dragon thrummed with the praise, but he remained modest... In words, at least.  Abruptly, he lifted one foreleg and studied his own claws... And L'sean laughed.

"He wants to know if it'd be possible for him to play a harp, since you have the same hands,"  He explained with a grin, and then spoke directly to his beast.  "I don't think so, Desith.  But you can do other things just as well."

What do you do?  Desith asked suddenly of Delden, head turned to one side, his breath warm as it washed over the Harper's face.  Tell us.

"He's curious,"  L'sean was proud rather than ashamed.  "He's always been that way, but.. if he's bothering you, he'll hush."  The packages could wait.  This was fun.

[Delden]

Delden, being Harper trained and sensitive to emotional shifts, did not miss the flicker that passed across the rider’s face.  Of course, having a Harper’s tact as well, he adroitly ignored the ripple of discontent.  That was easy to do, considering the marvelous distraction of Desith.

At L’sean’s mention of Candidacy, the Journeyman grinned wryly.  “I doubt there’s a man on Pern who doesn’t wish that, even with the danger of Threadfighting.”  He was envious, sure, but it was clear that he found fulfillment in his life’s work and took pride in it.  Tentatively, he reached to rub Desith’s head knobs.  He knew fire lizards liked such ministrations, and the blue had appreciated his hesitant motions earlier.

The dragon’s frank appraisal of his forelimb made Delden laugh aloud.  “Between you and me, Desith, I’m sure you could play the harp just as well as I!  I’m not much of a musician, as it happens.”  Considering that shortcoming, he fidgeted slightly.  He rubbed at the top of one foot with the toes of the other.  Beneath the blue’s curious regard, he straightened.  “Bothering me?  Hardly!”

“My work is nothing as interesting as fighting Thread, to be sure.  I mostly teach; that’s my specialty.”  He glanced around, but though the sun was well up, now, he saw no Harpers scurrying nearby.  “Of course, I have other duties, too, when I’m away from the Hall.  Just to listen, mostly, listen and report.  Master Rob—”  He stopped short, feeling a twinge of pain at what he’d been about to say.  “I mean, we Harpers like to have our noses in everything, and when people are determined to keep secrets, you have to tease them out sometimes.”  He’d told the dragon more than he’d told any human about his duties, with the exception of the Masters who assigned them.  Why, he was practically garrulous in such fine company!  And he had forgotten all about the supplies.

[Lusean]

"Welll," L'sean began with a grin and twisted the toe of his boot into the ground.  "A lot of people tend to forget about the Threadfalling part.  I didn't think of it when I became a Candidate,"  He informed the other man light-heartedly.  "Have you thought about coming to a Weyr?"  L'sean quirked his head curiously as he watched his dragon lean into the Harper's caresses.  The blue was thrumming with pleasure, his eyes shut all the way.  Delden was right:  He liked having his headknobs rubbed.

"I mean, you seem to like dragons."  Then again, who didn't.  "And you have firelizards!"  He pointed, and then belatedly realized the rudeness of the gesture and dropped his hand back down to his side.  "There's always work to be done at the Weyr, especially if you like teaching.. Or writing."  He'd heard the archive was a mess, but L'sean couldn't say for certain.  He'd seldom been up there himself:  He disliked ordering things.  "...Just, maybe you'd like it there, is all."  He didn't want to seem pushy, but he already decided he liked Delden.  It'd be nice to have a friend at the Weyr.  Not that L'sean didn't have friends, but--

--..Well, he didn't ,really.  Not many, anyway.

"Fighting Thread isn't interesting,"  L'sean snorted.  "It's hard work.  But worthwhile,"  He added, sending building disapproval on Desith's part.  "It's all part of being a dragon rid- Oh."  He belatedly realized the other man had been talking to his dragon, and quickly hushed himself up.  "Sorry."

My L'sean is chatty,  Desith rumbled, his voice faint in Delden's mind.  He connected himself only enough to be able to form words-- As polite as Desith was, this mind was still foreign to him, and he disliked lingering there for too long.  He did sense the sadness in his voice at the mention of Master Robinton, however, and the emphatic blue crooned in sympathy, his broad muzzle placed against the Harper's shoulder as he huffed a warm, sweet-smelling breath.

"You miss him, don't you?"  It was L'sean who made the observation, his voice quiet.  "Master Robinton, I mean.  I think everyone does... Did you know him personally?"

[Delden]

"Come to the Weyr?" Delden echoed, surprised.  "No, I don't suppose I'd ever thought of it.  The way the Weyr is spoken of around here, it seems...unreachable, somehow.  Almost like a myth," he admitted, with a nod and a half-smile to serve as an apology.  But mythical or not, he could not deny the dragon's warm breath, or the hum that reverberated through his frame.  He kept skritching.

"I'd like to go there someday, I suppose, though I doubt it's something my Masters would ever allow me to do.  Most of them are of the mind I haven't got the constitution for it, I'd imagine."  There was a notable lack of bitterness in his voice.  Some may have found it odd, the Journeyman's contentment with others' perception of him and the relative lack of excitement in his daily life, but in fact, Delden found it rather comforting at times.  Of course, when all was chaos…

He shook away pesky thoughts with a dash of his head, focusing instead on one that had been nagging him since Desith's pondering of a harp.  Dragons could not play harps, but why should they have to when they had those expressive voices with such a fantastic range?  He was hearing now a dragon symphony, from the deep throbs of the bronzes and the vigorous lilting of queens all the way down to the trilling of the greens.  It would be marvelous, he decided, but the trouble was how to organize such a feat.  He doubted most dragons would approve, anyhow, but it was fun to dream about.  He almost told Desith of his musings, but shyness forestalled him.

"Oh, yes.  I do miss him."  His throat tightened again, and he cleared it.  "I didn't know him well.  He was such a busy man.  But you can bet he knew every being into this Hall, down to the smallest child.  Greeted everyone by name when he saw them.  Knew more about us than we imagined, too, I'd wager."  His eyebrows quirked at that.  No one could gather information quite like the late Masterharper.  "He was…very much beloved," he concluded, looking down and flexing his toes.