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The snumph, snumph of the plane on the well seasoned wood
panel was a soothing song of familar comfort to Warren. It contrasted
dramatically with the rolling turmoil in his heart. At 16 turns of age,
Warren was well aware of the scarcity of marks. It was marks, or the
lack of them, that made his inside churn so. He knew how hard selling
the labors of the Feller family had become with few people in the mood
to spend marks on the fine, detailed furniture that the Fellers made.
Warren also knew that it was hard supporting his older brother Becom
as he studied to be a Healer at Healer Hall. Warren didn't begrudge
his brother the marks that his family sent to Becom. It had been
Becom's dream to be a Healer since he had been 5 turns old and Warren
had been 3. So Warren worked hard making small sellable items in his
free time from working on the few furniture commissions his family
still received. He sold these items to suppliment the families income,
often sneaking them into the earthen ware jar that his mother kept in
kitchen. His parents were so distracted over the mark problem that
they rarely noticed the stray mark he was able to contribute. Warren
worried, he increasingly felt that his personal upkeep was too steep
for the family to continue. Yet, Warren had no where else to go. The
other crafters in the hold couldn't afford to take him on, and he didn't
have any spare marks to make a journey to another hold. It seemed an
impossible problem to solve. A couple days later, as Warren sat with his legs dangling out of the window he was perched on, a large shadow blocked the light. Looking up from his wittling, he saw the magnificent blue dragon just as the watch wher began making a terrible fuss. Warren was amazed to see the creature land gracefully at the hold. 'Wonder what that's about,' he mused before returning to the bit of scrap wood he was shaping. A short time later a runner came down from the hold. 'Hello, hello,' he shouted, bringing crafters running. 'The lord calls for all children of eligible age to come to the hold. There's a blue dragon from the Weyr, he's come on Search!' ('Search?!') thought Warren. 'Search!', 'Search?', 'Search!', whispered the growing crowd. The runner explained several times what the Holder and the Dragon Rider required and soon enough all the young people of about 12 turns or older were rounded up and sent to the hold. 'Warren! What are you doing boy? Get your body up to the hold,' called one of Warren's Uncles. 'I'm almost done, Uncle Siless,' Warren shouted back. 'Leave it, boy. The Dragon Rider has priority!' 'There, I'm done. Could you see that mother gets this, Uncle?' 'Sure. Sure. Now get up to the hold,' his Uncle said with a hurrying push. Warren made his way up to the hold and saw a buzz of activity. The blue's rider was standing laughing with the Holder and a good size crowd of young people stood milling around. Just as Warren joined the crowd, the Dragon Rider finished his drink and called to his dragon. The Holder called the youths to order and the Dragon Rider led his blue dragon along the line. He stopped several times, but after a few moments he continued down the ranks. Warren watched the Rider for a while then suddenly became aware of the dragon. It was a magnificent shade of deep azure blue, with well textured nobs and scales all over. ('Wonder what wood I could use to get that nice a texturing from,) mused Warren, staring almost dreamily at the dragon. It came as a shock when the weathered face of the Dragon Rider suddenly stopped in front of him. Warren jumped guiltily and blushed at the deep regard of both Rider and dragon. After a while, the rider moved down the line. Warren sighed, dissapointed for a reason he didn't understand. ('I wonder if dragon hide is as soft as it looks') he thought. (('Of course it is,')) said a mildly amused voice in Warren's head. Warren sighed again and thought, ('Yes, of course it is. It would have to be.') Warren sighed again. I wish I could touch it, just once,') he thought wistfully. The dragon's head swung from the slightly plump lad he had been studying three down from Warren. The blue turned to Warren and stepped forward before bumping him in the chest. Warren stared in frozen wonderment at the great head rubbing against his collar bone. 'Well, pet him lad. Else he'll think you don't like him,' rumbled the amused voice of the dragon's rider. Warren looked up at the Rider, 'What?' 'Pet him. Like this,' the rider reached out and taking Warren's near hand, rubbed it gently along the bony ridge around the creature's eye. 'Soft, isn't he,' the rider said with understandable pride. 'Yes! Oh, yes, he is VERY soft,' said Warren, lost in a world of sensation. 'I could go on petting him forever,' Warren said before he suddenly realized he was taking liberties with the Rider's dragon. Hastily he dropped his hand. 'I'm sorry Sir. I didn't mean it.' 'Why ever not,' demanded the Rider. 'You like him don't ya?' 'Oh, yes. I like him a lot,' Warren exclaimed, noting the upset curve to the Blue's neck. 'Well then. Never apologize for your true feelings lad. They do you credit.' 'I'm sor.... I mean, Yes Sir,' stammered Warren, embarrased again. 'Good lad,' the Rider said, clapping him so strongly on the shoulder that Warren stumbled a bit. The Rider regarded Warren intently for a moment and said, 'How would you like to come to the Weyr with me, lad?' 'Me,' Warren exclaimed, wide eyed. 'Aye, you,' and the Rider emphasized this by tapping Warren in the chest with a stiff finger. Warren would have stood there in stunned silence if an unexpected voice hadn't come out of his mouth and shouted, 'YES!' The Rider threw back his head and laughed. 'Good lad!' 'Come along then. Gather your stuff and lets get gone.' In a daze, Warren accepted the congratulations of his friends and neighbors, and took the bundle of clothes his mother brought him with numb fingers. Looking into her loving eyes, he asked with some concern, 'Is this okay, Mother?' 'It's Wonderful Warren. Your father and I couldn't be more proud. We're happy for you!' She hugged him tight and then his father, his Uncles, and seemingly everyone else, shook his hand. It didn't seem any time at all before he sat behind the blue's rider and waved one last time to all the people he'd known for most of his life. He was afraid, but at the same time thrilled. ('Maybe now Mother and Father can afford Becom,') he thought in some amusement. The blue dragon turned it's head back to look at him and then the Rider gave the signal to go aloft. A few wing beats later, they were between. Warren stood as a candidate at Talor Cliff Weyr Warren's letters home Warren impression
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