Time Enough To Daydream (1/3)

Writers: Estelle
Date Posted: 15th June 2018

Characters: R'fal
Description: R'fal remembers the first time a Thread burrow was found on his family's farm
Location: Dolphin Cove Weyr, Emerald Falls Hold
Date: month 5, day 10 of Turn 9

It was Threadfall day again. R'fal had become accustomed by now to the
routine - assisting the herders, running messages and filling firestone
sacks - and the excitement, longing and frustration that he knew were
echoes of Marlath's emotions. He didn't know if he'd ever get entirely
used to being a part of the Weyr's fight against Thread, but he did feel
as though he knew what to do and where he was supposed to be. Mostly...

This time the skies were covered with dark clouds, and rain fell
steadily, soaking riders and weyrlings alike. R'fal wondered what it
must be like, flying in those conditions. Would they feel the rain and
heat, or would training and the rush of fighting take over? He brushed
trickles of sweat and water from his forehead and bent to pick up
another handful of firestone.

Sometimes the strangeness of being here at the Weyr still caught him by
surprise, even though he felt like he'd been daydreaming about it for
most of his life. Since the Pass began...

*** 9 Turns ago ***

At first, Threadfall days had been frightening and thrilling in equal
measure. Renfal liked to picture the dragonriders flying over his
family's cot, battling the deadly silver tangles in the air and burning
them to ash. His imagination distracted him from the fact that he was
cooped up indoors, crowded in the airless heat of the cothold's main
living area. His father was always in a grouchy mood, since his mother,
fearing that the tension might break out into arguments, had forbidden
him to play cards or dice with the fieldhands while they waited out the
Fall.

When the all-clear came and the adults departed to join the muster for
ground crew, it was a relief, but then there was the frustrating fact
that no matter how much he pleaded, he was not allowed to go along with
them, or even go outside the yard until their land had been confirmed
free of burrows. He had to stay behind and help in the kitchens with his
sisters, or work on his lessons. Neither alternative was appealing.

When he heard the men returning, he dropped his slate onto the kitchen
table with a clatter and raced out to meet them in the cleared area that
surrounded his home, barren and dusty now that it had been scraped clear
of greenery. At once, he knew that something was different this time.
There was an unfamiliar acrid scent on their clothes, and his father was
frowning and gesturing in irritation at Holder Galveden, who led the
ground crew for their area.

His mother had followed him outside, and from her sharp intake of
breath, he knew she could tell, too. When she spoke, though, her voice
was calm and welcoming. "Greetings, holders. If you'll come on inside,
there's klah, or water if you'd prefer, and fresh bread in the oven."

"Thank you, Lirena," Galveden said, cutting Terren off mid-sentence.
"We've been looking forward to your baking all morning." He knelt down
beside the door to unlace his boots and the other holders followed suit,
while the men carrying the flamethrowers deposited the tanks and
equipment they carried a safe distance from the hold with grunts of
relief. Renfal wanted to go and have a look, but before he could move,
his mother put her hands on his shoulders and turned him around to face her.

"Fetch some klah for Holder Galveden and Holder Lewin, Renfal, and don't
you dare go anywhere near those flamethrowers. They're not toys; you
could be badly burned."

"Yes, Ma." The boy sighed and went indoors to fetch the klah jug that
was warming by the hearth. By the time he'd poured out mugs for the
holders, they were gathered around the kitchen table, and his
disappointment was soon forgotten when he heard what they were talking
about. A strand of Thread had reached the ground out in the fields and
burrowed deep, but they'd found and destroyed it using the flamethrower.
Holder Galveden's youngest son had been sent to make a report at one of
the larger holds in their area. The young man might even get to speak to
a dragonrider! When Renfal heard that, excitement mixed with the
heartfelt wish that he could have been the one to go. Maybe when he was
older...

Daydreaming of dragons, he nearly spilled the klah. Hastily, Renfal put
the jug back in its place and picked up some mugs to carry to the rest
of the men from the ground crew, who were gathered in the doorway
watching the holders talk.

"Of course, it would be my pasture it happened to land in," his father
grumbled. "Some of the best grass in this area, lost."

"It was only a small clump, Terren, and we got it quickly," Lewin said,
his voice conciliatory. "Not much harm done."

"We knew this might happen," his mother said. She sounded weary. His
baby sister had been up most of the night - maybe she, too, felt the
apprehension of the night before Fall. "Journeyman Seloran said it will
grow back just as well as before. The agenothree is good for the land."

Terren made a contemptuous sound in his throat. "What does a smith know
about farming?"

"What do _you_ know about farming, you idle vagabond," muttered one of
the men. Renfal looked up at them in surprise, unsure what he'd meant,
but his parents didn't seem to have heard. One of the other men hushed
the one who'd spoken and indicated the boy with a tilt of his head and
an apologetic look.

"We'll see, I suppose. As Lirena said, it could have happened to any of
us, and probably will before the Turn is out," Galveden said. "We can't
expect the dragonriders to get all of it, all of the time."

"Isn't that what they're for?" The cotholder set his klah aside, his
brows drawn low in a sullen scowl. "This new tithe..."

"Terren!" Lirena turned from the oven, holding a hot tray with a cloth
to protect her hand. Renfal recognised her tone as the one which
tolerated no disobedience. He was all too familiar with it, but was a
shock to hear her use it on his father, and in company, too. She must be
really angry. "We honour the Weyr in this hold. Especially after they've
just risked their lives fighting to protect us. You know that."

"Well said," Galveden agreed.

For a moment, Terren's scowl deepened, but then he appeared to change
his mind and it vanished, replaced by his usual ready smile. "Of course.
Your pardons, holders. I was just worried about feeding my livestock."

"You can graze some of them on my land, if you need, while the grass
grows back," Lewin offered. "We should all help each other, in these times."

"That's very generous. My thanks." His smile broadened and he reached
for a plate and a hot roll. "Help yourselves, everyone - don't let my
wife's fine cooking get cold."

The men at the doorway pressed forward, gathering around the kitchen
table for their share. Renfal took the opportunity to slip through the
crowd and approach his mother before she could think of any new chores
to give him.

"Ma, please can I go outside now?"

"All right, but don't go far, and if you see anything that doesn't look
right, don't go near it. And be back by dinner time, or I'll feed your
share to the canines and you'll go to bed hungry."

Renfal grinned, knowing that to be an empty threat. His mother would
never waste food with a growing boy in the cothold. "Thank you! I'll be
back in time, I promise."

Last updated on the August 21st 2018

Welcome to Triad Weyrs!

Time Enough To Daydream (1/3)