Disclaimer: I own not Pern, nor the dragons, nor anything in this story, except for my characters, whom I would have you leave alone, thank you much.
ANs: So... This story is a respite from all those lads who go out and Impress bronze. Yes, I know, the competition thing is overdone. But please try not to tell me that Vardino is an overused character-type.
The discussion that goes on in the beginning of the story was something that wriggled around in my mind one day. What are bronzes so good for, anyway? And, no, this is not a one-shot Hatching story. Just a start.
Oh, and if there are any mashed-together words, they're not my fault. This site loves doing that to me.
(ANs, pt. 2: Thank you, Astrokath, for your advice. I hope I've cleared things up and fixed everything here.)
Stakay flopped, exhausted, onto his cot. All the other candidates tramped in after him to collapse after another long day of doing chores around the Weyr. Who would have thought it would be so tiring to be a candidate? The candidates for the upcoming clutch were all put to work, so as not to sit around idle for a week before the Hatching.
However, they were still lads, and couldn't remain stationary very long. They finally all got in a rough circle to talk – about the Hatching, naturally.
"What color?" Branor asked. As usual, this sent up a flurry of babble.
"BRONZE!" was the common consensus.
"Well," one lad, Taratifil, said slowly. Everyone turned to look at him.
"You don't want bronze?"
"Well, if you think about it," Taratifil said. "A bronze'd be more work. Bigger. And you're more likely to get responsibility. And if you don't, you might look bad. People'd say, 'He's a bronzerider, but didn't get even Wingsecond! He must be a lazy, terrible slob!' or something."
The candidates blinked as they absorbed his logic.
"I hate work," one boy said, frowning.
"See my point, then? Besides, you'll automatically get more work if you Impress bronze," Taratifil continued. "They're how much bigger?"
No one knew.
"Well, either way, they're still the biggest –,"
"No, queens are bigger!" Maldir interrupted impudently.
"But we won't get queens. So, bronzes are bigger, so you'd have to oil that much more dragon. They'd eat more, take longer to bathe, not fit in small places, and either make you look good or really bad."
"But, they're the most… pre-prestigious," Branor said, tripping over the three-syllable word. "People like bronzes better. If you were a green rider, you wouldn't get so much admiration."
"No," countered Mulmin, a bossy know-it-all that Stakay didn't particularly like. "Even getting any dragon puts you at the same admiration level of a Senior Journeyman crafter! After that, prestige is a little less consequential." Branor made a face at Mulmin's back.
"I'm not afraid of work," someone proclaimed boldly. "If I get a bronze, I think I'd want to spend hours with it."
"Have you seen a rider oil his dragon?" another person snorted. "It takes long enough with a green."
Stakay listened as points and counterpoints flew around, arguing, arguing. He gave a sigh, running his fingers through his thin, sandy hair. They'd had this conversation so many times that he couldn't really think of anything new to add. He was tired.
"What is it, Stakay?" a voice asked suddenly, sneeringly. Stakay snapped back to reality. Vardino. "Do you not want a bronze?"
Stakay hotly replied, "Of course I do!" Everyone did, despite Taratifil's preaching against them.
"You couldn't Impress a bronze if your life depended on it," Vardino snorted. Stakay felt an angry bubble grow up in his stomach. The conceited, infuriating, insulting, rude dimglow!
"Well, you'd be lucky to get a firelizard!" Stakay snapped back. Even as he said it, he knew his comeback was pathetic. Why did Vardino have such an effect on him? Stakay knew that the other lad wouldn't Impress. Couldn't. He wasn't worthy. Right? And yet, Vardino always knew exactly how to rub him the wrong way.
Stakay was actually well-liked among the other candidates. It was just Vardino. Had anyone else insulted Stakay, the others would have immediately stood up for him. But Vardino... No one dared get on the wrong side of Vardino. Stakay vaguely wondered why. The lad was fairly large, he supposed. But it was mostly his dagger tongue and... there was just something – intimidating about him.
Branor, a good friend of Stakay, bracingly changed the subject. "What'll your name be if you Impress?" he asked the room at large.
Stakay breathed a soft sigh of relief as another burble rose up. Then, he seriously pondered that. S'kay? S'tkay? Or how about... St'kay? He liked that one.
"B'nor!" Branor decided.
"M'dir!"
"G'ranar!"
"St'kay!" Stakay added. The others nodded, then went on. Stakay found it interesting how some people would have theirs longer, like G'ranar instead of shorter, like G'nar.
But a name was only a name, and not nearly as important as the dragon that induced it.
Hatching.
The word strummed through Stakay's mind. Again and again. It was time for the Hatching.
Hatching.
Hatching.
The eggs are Hatching.
Stakay felt his feet burn away. Perhaps only the bones would be left after this hatching. The thought oddly mesmerized him, and he found himself focusing on it. His feet, when the eggs were HATCHING? But then, he'd always been good at distracting himself from whatever made him uncomfortable or nervous.
Vardino shoved roughly past Stakay then. Stakay felt anger well up inside him. That infuriating candidate couldn't even arrive on time? And he expected to get a bronze? Well, Stakay would just have to show him!
The hum coming from the dragons was enough to make Stakay hunch up his shoulders against the noise. And then...
The first egg Hatched.
It was a blue, a squealing, stumbling little beast that awkwardly clambered to its feet, flapping wet, pointless wings. It wavered for a moment, then staggered to a lad nearby, who immediately dropped down to stroke its eye ridges. And so Maldir became M'dir, the first Impression of the clutch.
The next egg that Hatched contained a brown, which Stakay originally mistook for a bronze. Still, he eagerly moved for it, only to be disappointed.
A blue, brown, and – bronze! They were the next to burst from their eggs. Stakay felt his breath catch in his throat. He edged toward the hatchlings. But when he got near them, he realized that Vardino was already approaching them. Stakay swallowed and moved forward anyway.
It was sweetest happiness that filled Stakay when the little bronze refused Vardino. The baby couldn't be looking at... Stakay, could it be...?
No. It wasn't.
Then, four eggs hatched simultaneously, and Stakay tore his eyes painfully away from the bronze, not even wanting to see who it had rejected him for. Instead, Stakay focused on the new four dragons. In fact, he focused as hard as he could on them.
There was a sturdy, firm brown that was quite pale. Two of them were blues, one a dark, deep blue that seemed almost purplish. The other blue was of average coloring, and with an oddly long and thin muzzle. The other dragon was a green that seemed very scrawny and small.
The four dragons staggered toward the waiting candidates, making the usual impatient noises that made Stakay's heart pound. The brown immediately fell at Branor's feet. Stakay felt happy for his friend as Branor Impressed, but he felt the need to get a dragon of his own consumed him.
Stakay became aware that Vardino was near him. What was he doing? Then Stakay saw it. The bronze. It was heading this way! Toward him! And Vardino.
Stakay felt a strangely numbing sensation as the bronze knocked Vardino over. Stakay watched blankly as those new talons, already so sharp, gouged deep wounds in Vardino's stomach and arms.
That dragon just hurt Vardino. He's not breathing. Oh, shards! Oh, he's not breathing!
Though his thoughts screamed inside his head, all Stakay could do was stare, utterly still, at the bully candidate. Dead? Not dead. Surely not. Of course not. He'd disliked Vardino, yes, but not wanted him dead.
And of course, that was when the little head hit him hard, squarely in the back of the knees, almost causing him to topple over. The head of the little green, the scrawny one. Stakay turned to look into its eyes, startled.
But by then, the beast was no longer 'the little green,' but Kaelbrith. His Kaelbrith. His, his, his delightful, green joy! Sure, she was tiny. Very tiny. Very little. And so thin! And her color, while dark, had a rather sickly look. But she was Kaelbrith, and that was all that mattered.
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Thanks muchly for reading, and if you would review, I would be extremely happy. Very very happy. Any advice will be taken, and used (if possible). And, CrossoverQueen, I believe you said you liked greens best? Here you are!
(Oh, and if the Hatchings seemed a little awkward and choppy, sorry)
Any more concrit would be welcome!