The Scent Of Fish

Writers: Jenny M.
Date Posted: 11th April 2006

Characters: B'dan
Description: The day of the Hatching finally arrives.
Location: River Bluff Weyr
Date: month 11, day 8 of Turn 3

The scent of raw fish was thick in the air. Bedan wrinkled his nose. Despite
being born and raised in a sea-hold, there was something distinctly
unpleasant about the smell and feel of gutting fish. At least when you were
out catching them, there was a salty sea breeze to keep the air fresh. Here
in the Weyr's kitchens, there was nothing to dispel their stink.

Returning his attention to the oily flesh and sharp blade, he continued to
fillet, tossing cleaned pieces straight in the huge cauldron of fish stew
simmering on the hearth. Slice, and toss. Slice, and toss. He eyed the huge
pile of uncut fish askew; if he didn't know better, he'd swear the heap was
growing…

With Hatching due any day now, the Weyr was playing host to hoards of
hopeful Holders and Craftsmen, all wishing for their candidate to Impress
well. And all eating like dragons.

As a candidate without craft responsibilities, the kitchen drudges had
eagerly seized him to lighten their load. So here he was, up to the elbow in
fish guts. And as if he wasn't nervous enough already, the off-key humming
coming from behind him was really setting him on edge.

Wait a minute. That humming was strangely low for human voices…

"Off ye git, lad! Don' dawdle now, ye'll miss tha Hatchin'!" One of the
drudges leant over and plucked the knife from Bedan's suddenly nerveless
fingers.

"But" he wavered "but, my Hatching robe, it's in the barracks, clear across
the Weyrbowl!"

"Well, ye'd betta git goin', then, hadn't ye?"

Taking the advice, Bedan sprinted out of the Lower Caverns, trailing shouts
of "Don't run in the kitchens!" behind him. Throwing back a quick apology,
he dashed past the entrance to the Hatching Cavern and through the swarming
Weyrbowl to the candidate barracks. He swerved round the doorway and grabbed
his robe off its peg, stuffing it on over his slightly fishy clothes, and
followed another anxious candidate in the rush for the Hatching grounds.

He joined the gaggle of nervous candidates just outside the Cavern with only
minutes to spare. Ushered onto the stands by the agitated Weyrlingmaster,
his trepidation only mounted at the tense atmosphere within. Ignoring the
heat seeping through his boots from the incubating sands, his heart sank at
the sight of the cluster of eggs rocking against the heated floor. He'd
known the clutch was small, but that fact hadn't really hit him until he saw
the paltry dozen in a room built for triple that, or more. There was such a
tiny chance for Impression…

The stands stilled in anticipation as the first sound of fractured shell
cracked through the air like a whip. When a glistening green nose nudged
aside the first shard, the audience deflated in disappointment. But all
Bedan cared about was the pure joy with which the new dragonrider declared
"Her name is Arianath!"

Suddenly, it hit him, in a fierce rush. He wanted this, really truly wanted
it so badly he could feel the ache. Even if he didn't Impress this time (but
he had to) he would return. Fourteen turns meant he had six more turns to
stand, and he would not miss a single Hatching until his lifemate found him!

By now, shells were shattering all around. A brown, then a green, a blue,
another green, four more in quick succession… Everything was happening so
fast! His Holder's daughter had Impressed, and there were only two eggs left
rocking on the sands.

The nearest egg fractured along the top and a wet blue nose ventured out
into the world. Bedan stood, riveted against the Cavern's floor, as the
dragonet stumbled closer. Finally, the young dragon swayed indecisively
before Saralorn and himself, wavering from one to the other.

Bedan was helpless, too nervous to move towards the dragon, yet far too
hopeful to even think of moving away. Like a dream, the blue head bumped
gently against his knee and the world shifted a few dragonslengths to the
left.

"You're… mine?" B'dan whispered, awestruck.

}:Of course I'm yours! Who else's would I be?:{ Telranth replied, with a
hint of surprise }:And, since I'm yours and you're mine, won't you feed me
now? I'm dreadfully hungry:{

Guiding Telranth off the sands towards the bowls of pre-cut meat, B'dan felt
like he was sleepwalking. "I'm a dragonrider" he mumured, "I really am!"

}:You're going to be rider of a see-through dragon if you don't feed me
soon:{ grumbled the young blue. Laughing with joy, B'dan hastened to grab a
handful of meat and shove it towards his wonderful new partner, who gulped
it with gusto. And the next handful. And the next.

"Where are you putting it all?" he inquired, wide-eyed. Telranth was slowing
down now, but his sides were bulging from the feast he'd just consumed.
Waving his wedge-shaped head, he blew his warm meaty breath in B'dan's face.
}:I don't know:{ he replied, confused. }:But I'm sleepy now. And you smell
funny:{

As he followed the Weyrlingmaster's gestures towards his new Barracks with a
drowsy baby dragon in tow, B'dan realised that yes, he actually had
Impressed a dragon whilst reeking of fish.

Telranth nudged his head against B'dan's shoulder. }:I don't mind:{ he
informed B'dan generously }:You're the best rider I could have, even if you
are a little stinky:{

Last updated on the April 22nd 2006

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The Scent Of Fish