Awakening

(AN: This is totally AU, I love Anne McCaffrey too much to use her characters. The timeline is whenever you wish, likely a pass or two in the past. And finally, the disclaimer. I own nothing, I am not doing this for monetariy gain, McCaffrey is God. Any questions?)

--------------------------

Tirelle was awakened by screams. She ran to open her bedroom door, then gasped as a wave of heat hit her, making her cough and choke on the smoke she had just drawn into her young lungs. She crawled back to her bed, where she lay huddled, until she heard her sister's voice down the hall. The sound finally drove her to action, and she ran down the hall, towards the screams. Her little legs didn't carry her far before exhaustion and smoke caused her to fall in a faint. As she lay in the hall, darkness overtaking her, she sent out a silent plea. -Please, don't let me die. I'm scared; I don't want to die.- Just before she lost consciousness, she felt herself being lifted into the air, and could feel the beat of angel wings.

Tirelle woke with a start, gasping for air and trying to clear her head. She was no stranger to this dream, so she knew she would sleep no more that night. Pity, today she would need all her wits about her. Four runners had just been purchased by Nerat Hold, all of them wild as a wherrie. She hoped to break at least two to saddle and bridle that day, but as the herdmaster, or anyone else, would not awaken for several hours, Tirelle found herself with time to spare, a luxury she was not accustomed to. She walked from the barracks that she shared with the other herd hands, out across the paved courtyard and up to the walk along the wall. As she stared out at the steely morning fields, she breathed deeply. Now it was peaceful. No fosterlings under foot, no runners rearing or bucking, no Lord or Lady to appease. Tirelle stood there on the eastern wall, breathing, until the sun burst over the horizon.

----------------------

"Come on! Get moving you big lump of…"

"Tirelle! You watch your language young lady!" A man called from the edge of the corral.

"Dak, did you just call me a lady? I think I'm insulted!" Tirelle laughed as she gave the herdbeast another whack on the rump for good measure.

"Get used to it, Tirelle. Me and Norla haven't given up on you yet." Dak called back. "You'll need to keep a civil tongue in your head if you want to lure any of those handsome craft-boys into your bed tomorrow night!"

"Dak, please! You know I'm not going to the Gather, why do you keep bringing it up?" Tirelle shut the gate on the corral. "Make sure Stefen and Ronel keep an eye on them. I don't have time to be chasing strays."

As Tirelle walked across the field, she shook her long red hair out from the handkerchief she had it pulled up in. All around, signs of the upcoming Gather drew attention. Tall poles, destined to hold the canopy aloft, were being set into holes and braced, while hands from every craft could be seen erecting small pavilions and kiosks, in which to sell their wares to Gather guests. Just past the kiosks stood the herd barn and, Tirelle imagined, one hell of a beating.

o0o0o0o0o0o

"Hang on, Tirelle! Looks like he's about tired out!"

Tirelle was hanging on, as hard as she could, every muscle screaming against the pressure. Thankfully, she too could tell the beast was tiring. It's bucks were lower, and weaker, but still she dug in her spurs and held tight the reins. She'd been tricked by runners before, and did not fancy being thrown into the dirt of the pen today. When the beast finally stood still, sides heaving, Tirelle relaxed a little. Tapping the runner forward, she completed one circle of the corral before dismounting.

"Wow, Tirelle, you're amazing! I mean, none of the other hands could break that runner and then, bam, you jump on her and she's broke, just like that!" A young boy babbled as Tirelle ducked out of the enclosure.

"Slow down, Nellen. Take a breath. Look, there's still a lot of work to be done with that young filly, but at least she knows who the dominant species is here." Tirelle gave Nellen a sideways glance, "Does Marja know you're here?"

The boys slightly guilty look answered the question for him. "Nellen," Tirelle said patiently, "You know that Marja worries when she doesn't know where you are, and worrying makes her short tempered. Do you want to be banned from Gather tomorrow? Do you want to be scrubbing dishes instead of exploring the bazaar with the other boys."

"No," Nellen said contritely. "It's just that I wanted to come and see you and Marja always has me working in the kitchens or setting up looms for the Weavers, it's almost like she doesn't want me to see you."

"Well Marja is fostering you, so you mind what she tells you. Run along now, and maybe she won't tan your hide!" Tirelle said, giving the young boy a gentle shove in the direction of the Weaver Hall. Nellen was sixteen Turns, old enough to start his apprenticeship in a craft. But Marja, his foster mother, was a protective women, and the boy was very sheltered, making him seem younger than his years. The boy hero-worshipped Tirelle. She was one of the few people in the Hold who didn't brush him off as a witless child. She tried to include him in some of the herd barn's activities, since he showed an interest. When he returned from the barn with a sprained wrist from a spirited runner that he was leading into the ring, however, Marja began curtailing his movements as much as she could, and treating Tirelle with the coldest of glares. Tirelle tried to convince him to stay with Marja, to keep the peace, but the boy loved the barns too much to be swayed, and so Tirelle began showing him some of life in the barns, Marja be damned.

Tirelle watched the slight boy make his way back to the Hold with a smile in her face before turning to help the rest of the hands with the days chores. She was glad that they had broken the two runners that day, but her muscles ached horribly. She took a swig of a flask at her hip, and let the fiery spirits burn there way through her body, before she climbed into the loft to help with throwing hay down to the beasts below.

She didn't hear the heavy steps of a man in riding boots coming toward the opening in the loft. so she couldn't really be blamed for throwing the large, unbound bale of fodder down on top or the Masterherder's head.

"Fall, Fog, and Fire!" the man cursed as he got up off of the barn floor, brushing chaff from his shoulders and pulling bits of hay from his hair.

"Oh, Shards! Sorry Dak! I didn't know you were down there." Tirelle called down from the loft.

Dakan was still brushing the last of the fodder off of his clothing, muttering curses under his breath. When he looked up at the young woman, he gave a humph, part grunt of annoyance, part sigh of resignation.

"Come on down here and talk to me a second, will ya Tirelle?"

Tirelle swung down from the mow with the skill of constant repetition and followed Dakan into the small room off of the main barn, an old storage closet that Dak cleaned out and now used as an office.

"What's on your mind there, chief?" she said casually. Tirelle was slightly confused as to what Dak might need to talk about. She hadn't caused any problems lately, hadn't drank enough to cause a scene, and, since she was second only to the old man himself in the barns, she sure as hell wasn't getting a promotion, so the reason for this impromptu meeting had her puzzled.

Dak didn't quite meet her eye as they sat down at the desk/meeting table. "Big Gather tomorrow, lots of people coming in, some from as far as Fort and Ruatha. Rumour is that there'll even be dragon riders."

"Ya, supposed to be a real show." Tirelle gave Dak a sidelong glance. "Cut to the chase, old man. We've known each other too long for this small-talk routine. What is it about tomorrow that we need to discuss?"

Dak's shoulders slumped, making the man look well over his fifty-five years. "There are some buyers coming in from the northern holds. I need you to entertain them during Gather, butter them up so they'll be more likely to accept my prices. I need these sales, Tirelle, and I need your help to get them."

Tirelle sighed in relief. She knew how much Dak needed these buyers. His crazy scheme to start herding in the middle of a rainforest still confused most, and Dak was a laughing stock for years. But, the beasts had turned out better than expected. Now all that they needed were steady buyers and the barns would continue to prosper. Those buyers were slow in coming, howerver. "You know that I don't like Gathers and such, Dak. But you should also know that I'm there when you need me. I'd be happy to go get drunk with your buyers! Why after I get bout a half bottle of fellis juice into each of them..."

"That's not what I meant, Tirelle." Dak interrupted. "These men aren't used to a woman running around in leather breeches and vest. The northern woman are soft in the most part, and the ones with strength use it in more subtle ways than you are capable of. By entertain, I meant the pretty dress, giggly smile, promising glances and flirtatious dancing type of entertain."

Tirelle gave the man across from her a glare. He was like her second father, but he had just pushed all the wrong buttons. "You whoring me out now, Dak?"

"Oh, Scorch it, Tirelle, don't even try and put it on that footing. I'm not asking ya to bed them. All I want is for you to keep them happy. And besides, usually you jump at the chance to try and lure a fresh one into your bed. I know for a fact that you rarely sleep alone, and it's never the same man twice. Hell, most of those young barn-boys who come in to negotiate for their masters end up in your bed before the night is over, anyways. Stop being so sharding ornery over a flaming dress!"

Tirelle was fuming, more at Dak bringing up her refusal to wear a dress than the rest of it. He was right, she was being stubborn over a dress. She hadn't worn one since she first came to Nerat almost fifteen years ago. She never thought she needed to. Her breeches were close fitting, and showed off more of her sculpted figure than those loose skirts ever could. And, by the Egg, all the young men around the hold, and even the ones who came in for smaller gathers, didn't seem to mind her masculine attire.

Dak walked around the desk and put his hands on Tirelle's toned shoulders, bending down to look her straight in the eye. "Please, Tirelle. You know better than anyone that I need this."

Tirelle stared back up at him. Looking in his eyes, she saw the desperation, the need for validation. Slumping her shoulders she nodded her acceptance. The sparkle in Dakan's eyes made up for what she saw as base humiliation.

She stood and walked to the door. Just before she stepped over the threshold, she turned back to the grinning masterherder. "I am gonna buy the most expensive dress I can find, and you, my giddy friend, are paying for it."

His grin never even twitched. "Go to the house and pick up Norla, she knows all the best dressmakers. She'll get you gussied up right."

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

"You have got to be joking," Tirelle said as she looked at the lace monstrosity reflected in the mirror, only vaguely recognizing herself in all those frills and ruffles. "Was this your idea, Norla?" she asked, glancing at the grey haired woman on the other side of the shop.

The motherly figure pursed her lips. "Hmm, maybe we need to go with a simpler style," she said thoughtfully. She began sorting through the gowns on the rack, stopping at one of deep purple velvet. "I think this might suit you better," she said cheerfully as she handed the gown to Tirelle.

"No frills at least," Tirelle grumbled, taking the dress from Norla and stalking to the dressing room. She walked out again, with a sour look on her face, and threw her hands up in the air.

"Well here we go again, dress number six, how ridiculous does this one look?" She asked, turning to face Norla, her back to the large mirror.

Norla looked shocked, eyes wide, as she put her hand to her mouth. "Oh my," she said quietly.

Tirelle winced, "That bad, huh?" she said, then she sighed, "That's it! Were done! I agreed to try Dak's fool plan, but if we can't find a dress, then-"

"Oh, no, darling, you don't understand-"

"Oh yes i do! I won't look like a fool for-"

"But, you don't-"

"-buyers can shove it up their prissy-"

"Tirelle, if you would just-"

"-don't need this fool hassel-"

"Scortch it, Tirelle, would you LOOK at yourself!"

Tirelle was shocked, Norla stood infront of her, fuming, hands on hips. The small, quiet woman Never used harsh language, especially not out in public. But for once, Tirelle was a little afraid of the woman who had been as good as a mother to her.

Norla sighed, and took Tirelle's hand. "Just look at yourself dear, and you'll understand." Then she slowly lead Tirelle to turn and face the mirror behind her. "Do you see now?"

Seeing her reflection, Tirelle gasped and put her hand to her mouth, unconsciously mimicking Norla's expression from moments before.

"Your a vision, my dear," Norla whispered, before stepping back from the feisty woman. Tirelle stood in shock for another moment, before taking stock of her reflection. The bodice of the dress was boned, showing her trim waist to great effect, with beautiful embroidery on the front panel. There was soft, draped fabric acting as off-the-shoulder sleeves of a sort. The skirt itself was divided, with an underskirt of silvery silk. The purple velvet felt good under her hands, and the silk felt good against her skin. Tirelle was rather surprised how beautiful she felt.

She turned to see how the dress looked from the side, then spun back, simply because she liked the feel of the silk when she moved. She spun back and forth again, and then spun in a complete circle. She pirouetted again, a smile crawling across her face. The dress flared out as she spun, flying out from her hips and flowing around her like a dream. She let a girlish giggle escape.

She stopped her spinning at the sound of Norla laughing. She turned and looked at the older woman, who had a face-splitting smile on.

Immediately stopping her spinning, she cleared her throat gruffly. "Well," she said, "I'd still be more comfortable in breeches. This things going to be bloody hot in the sun."

Norla walked up to her and patter her cheek. "Whatever you say dear," she said, then left Tirelle to her sipnning.

---------------

Guest began arriving rather early in the day. By the time Tirelle had bathed and dressed, the Harpers were playing and dancing had begun. Tirelle waved many hello's, and smiled at many a shocked face, on her way to the danceing square.

"Wel, well, well. I never thought I'd see the day when Tirelle would wear a skirt in public," said a young man as he approached.

Tirelle laughed. "Skirt or no, Stefan, I can still whip you with one hand behind my back, and don't you forget it!" she said, then ran up to him and gave him a bear hug. "Have you seen Dakan's buyers? I'm supposed to be 'entertaining' them."

"Third table to the left, opposite side of the square," Stefan said. Just then, the Harper's started into a lively reel. Stefan smiled, and offered Tirelle his hand with a flourish, inviting her to dance. Tirelle gave him a withering look, but took his hand and joined him in the fast paced dance, stepping and spinning until she and her partner had reached the bottom of the set at the other side of the dancing square. She stood, laughing with Stefan, until they had both regained their breath. Then the barn hand led her to the table where four very well dressed men were sitting.

"Gentlemen," Stefan began, "May I introduce Lady Tirelle? She is our best trainer for the runners, and knows more about herdbeasts than anyone here, save Dakan himself."

Tirelle curtsied, and the men eyed her with blatant approval. She had a feeling that their approval had more to do with the low cut of her bodice than with her abilities in the barns. Still, she gave each of them a smile, one that held no promises, but did hint at the possibility of some less-than-profesional dealings. Dakan wanted them interested, and by the Egg, she would give him interested.

Tirelle spent the afternoon laughing at jokes that weren't funny and dancing with each of the buyers. By nightfall, she needed something stronger than wine to drink and someone to tend to her feet, sore from being stepped on. She excused herself from the buyers, knowing full well they were as good as in Dakan's pocket, and left to find a bit of quiet, a bit of food, and possibly a companion for the night. As she walked between two of the pavilions, she heard voices, and cruel laughter. Turning the corner, her anger flared hot at what she saw

Four young men, obviously Holder's sons by there dress, were taunting and jeering at a poor boy. He was obviously unable to defend himself as he was pushed from bully to bully. Tirelle had been walking forward to break up the group when the young boy was pushed to the ground. As he struggled to rise, Tirelle got a glimpse of his face.

"Nellen!"