Author's note: This is set in the world of Pern, though as yet, doesn't have any other familiar characters in it. I read the series a while ago, so my facts may be a bit rusty... This is also my first fanfiction, so please read and tell me what you think of this... Thanks in advance ^_^
Letha shook her head dejectedly as she stared out the window, her eyes unfocused and veiled in the light of the sun. Resting upon her lap was a small harp, its strings strumming gently as her fingers brushed against them. Her mind was elsewhere though, and the melody drifted past her ears with hardly a moment's thought.
It was a Gather today, and all were outside at the fair, dancing, playing and singing. All except for Letha. She couldn't explain it, but for some reason she had a feeling of premonition, a feeling which loomed back in the depths of her mind. Something just wasn't right. It wasn't simply her loneliness here which was the problem. Surrounded by so many people, she still felt a longing within her. Here at Harper Hall, she was treated well, that much was for sure. But she just, well, didn't belong.
Her lack of a voice accounted for much. Unlike the others, she could not speak, she could not express her feelings in words, and most of all, she couldn't sing. Letha sighed, her dark hair falling forwards to shade her eyes. For her, it was much like torture. Everyone was kind of course, sometimes even pity, but some were far less nice. Like Trena.
"Can't you just sing like the rest of us? Oh wait, I forgot, you can't. What a pity". Trena's words echoed through her mind, and filled her with a hurtful shame.
What was a harper without a voice? Try though they might, the Masterharpers simply couldn't deny that a harper needed a voice to sing. Letha couldn't rise to the rank of Masterharper, as was her dream, not even to the ranks of a journeyman. Regardless of her skill in the harp, the flute and the gitar, she could not proceed any further.
The Masterharpers were kind about it. After all, Letha was often regarded as the Instrument Master's protegee, considering her natural skill in the area. Often, they called her by the affectionate name "Silent Minstrel" , and more than once she had smiled and played along the role. Slender fingers flying across her flute, she would improvise tunes, answer questions with melodies, and in essence, speak with music alone. The Masterharpers were delighted, patting her on the back and flooding her with praise.
But even that could not replace what a voice could have done. This was the furthest she could go in the Harper Hall, and there would be no denying that blatant fact. Trena too, couldn't help but rub that fact in.
A loud trumpet blast, jolted Letha from her reverie and her gold-brown eyes sharpened as she peered out the window. Voices cheered wildly and there was a chatter of excitement in the crowd below. Looking up, Letha saw three shapes moving slowly in the sky, their huge membranous wings beating to the pounding of her heart. The dragon riders. Letha couldn't help but gasp. Since her very birth, she had dreamed of seeing one of the legendary Thread-fighting dragons up close, she'd dreamed of seeing their riders astride them, so majestic in their poise. With hardly a second to spare, she slung her harp into its case across her back, and flew down the stairs, eager to see these dragon riders. Her mind was a whirlwind of thoughts. Why were they here? Was it a Search?