Disclaimer: The Dragonriders of Pern belongs to Anne McCaffery, I make no claim to own it. This is a work of fanfiction which I make absolutely no money from. Though the world is borrowed, the plot and characters are all mine.

(A/N: Many thanks to my beta reader, AnimeEyeshime.

Well, the past month has pretty much been taken up completely by NaNoWriMo, but now that it's almost over, I should hopefully have more time to work on other things. As it is, however, I'm trying to juggle two fanfics as well as an original fiction novel, so writing will probably be fairly slow. I told you the updates would likely be somewhat sporadic. If it goes for, say, more than a month without an update, though, feel free to email me and tell me to get back on track, it usually helps to return my interest.)

Who the Dragon Heeds

Chapter Four-Wandering Aimless

He'd never expected this. Perhaps he should have; was that why he hadn't been chosen? Had he really been so arrogant that he never considered the chance that he might not Impress? Had he somehow repelled the dragons with his heady pretensions?

Kelthere had found himself in the infirmary after the Hatching. He still wasn't sure if it was actually because of the intense heat on the Hatching Sands or the sheer shock of not Impressing when he had been so sure he would. He couldn't stand to stay in there, though, so he got up and went ahead to the Post-Hatching Feast.

He meandered through the crowds of people, aimlessly at first, weaving past the well-wishers with his back hunched and eyes fixed on the ground at his feet. "Kelthere!" He heard someone shouting his name and was forced to raise his head.

Danak and the others were sitting at a table together, staring at him with disconcerted looks. A vaguely familiar girl sat beside Daradox, and she asked in a worried voice, "Are you okay?"

Kelthere forced a smile onto his face. "Yeah, I'm fine. I just--the heat got to me. Happens more often than you'd think." He stared back at them as though daring them to disagree with him. He shifted uncomfortably on his feet and, feeling suddenly like he had to say something, "So, I guess you all Impressed, huh?"

Kelthere saw Danak's nod, but it was Daradox who spoke up, "Brown Coendeth. I guess that makes me D'dox now."

Kelthere blinked. He hadn't even given a thought to that. He couldn't just call them Danak and Daradox any more. It felt like they were slipping away, like they weren't even his friends anymore. He gave a shake of his head. That was stupid, stop thinking about it. Instead, he turned his gaze to the girl blankly. "And…"

"I'm Fylippa. Green Asatarth." She said shortly.

He forced another smile to his face and ignored how false it felt. "Congratulations, you guys. Really, I'm happy for you."

Danak looked as though he wanted to say something. "Kelthere-"

"I'm fine!" He said it louder than he meant to, and hoped nobody else had noticed. He sighed. Suddenly, he just didn't want to deal with this anymore. "Danak-" No, it's D'nak now, remember? He bit his lip and continued. "D'nak. I'll see you around, I guess." The others tried to call him back and convince him to stay, but all he really wanted was to be alone for now.

The Great Hall seemed too crowded and confined for him, so he hurried to get away, and found himself in the lower caverns. Since most everyone was at the Feast, it was mostly deserted, and he found an empty room to sit down.

Well, and what was he supposed to do now? The clutch had hatched and he was still alone. More alone, Kelthere thought as he remembered how all of his friends had Impressed and become dragonriders, than he had ever been before. The junior weyrwoman's dragon wouldn't clutch for another two years, and by then he would definitely be too old to Impress a dragon. He supposed he could just stick around in the Weyr for awhile…

But really, how long could he keep that up? He wouldn't be content to just work in the Lower Caverns for the rest of his life, surrounded by dragonriders while not having that chance himself, and he didn't want to feel useless. He wanted to do something with his life. He just didn't know what yet.

His thoughts turned to his home, remembering the taste of salt in his mouth and the reek of fish in the air, and he scowled. No! He would never go back to the fishing Hold. He hated it there, and even the problem of not Impressing wouldn't make him return. Hadn't he vowed the day he was searched, that he would never go back if he could help it?

He heard the sound of someone shuffling by outside, and Kelthere lifted his head. A younger boy passed the entrance and, seeing that someone was inside, he stepped into the room. Kelthere blinked when he realized it was Manoric.

"Hey," the younger candidate said. "I heard you didn't Impress, either." He plopped down against the wall next to Kelthere.

That, of course, was obvious, so Kelthere didn't bother to answer him. Manoric continued unperturbed, "You should know, it's not the end of the world. No one's going to kick you out of the Weyr if you want to stay, are they?"

Kelthere gave the other boy a look. "Probably not, but…" He just sighed and gave a half-hearted shrug. "At least you'll have more chances to Impress."

Shifting uncomfortably beside him, Manoric frowned. "Well, yes, but even that's no guarantee that I will Impress eventually. But even if that happens, I won't spend all my time moping around about what I missed. If I don't Impress, I'll go back home to my parents' Beasthold," he said with a shrug. "Do you have any idea what you're going to do now?"

Kelthere shook his head, causing Manoric to frown again. "Well, do you have any useable skills, like, tanner work or singing ability, or something--or do you plan to stay in the Weyr?"

Kelthere paused thoughtfully for a moment before answering. "Not really, no…unless you count fishing." He scowled. After nineteen years, he was thoroughly sick of anything having to do with fish.

Manoric's brow rose skeptically. "There's got to be something you're good at," he insisted.

He'd never really thought about it before, and that was the problem. "Don't you want to go to the Feast?" he asked pointedly.

Manoric gave a frown. "I could ask the same about you." Then he sighed and gave a defeated shrug. "See you later."

Kelthere watched him leave, but he didn't stay in that room alone for much longer. He stood up, grabbing onto the wall for balance, and started wandering through the halls. The Feast couldn't be over already, but it seemed like the Great Hall was getting too crowded for some people. Every so often, he passed groups of revelers and weyrfolk. Not paying much attention to where he was going, he ran into a familiar face; unfortunately, not a welcome one.

Kelthere scowled at the sight of F'kyr staring at him arrogantly, and wondered somewhat enviously how the other candidate had managed to Impress a bronze when he, Kelthere, had not Impressed at all. "What do you want?" he asked tiredly.

F'kyr's face twisted into a sneer. "Poor babeling didn't Impress, huh? Get over yourself, Kelthere."

He had not been in a good mood to start with, and F'kyr's comment sent him over the edge. He didn't even care anymore that F'kyr was a bronzerider now; Kelthere lashed out with a cry and tackled the other boy to the ground. At first, F'kyr was taken by surprise, but once he recovered, he gave as good as he got and it degenerated into a wrestling match.

They punched, kicked, and did everything they could to hurt the other. Kelthere rammed an elbow into F'kyr's side, while the other retaliated by aiming a punch that connected with Kelthere's left eye.

"What in Faranth's name is going on here?" The bellowing voice drew their attention away from each other, and they broke apart. The burly Weyrlingmaster K'rul stood glaring down at them irately.

Straightening up, F'kyr was the first to control himself, and in a cool, calm manner, he said in an affronted voice, "This candidate just attacked a dragonrider!"

Fortunately for Kelthere's sake, K'rul wasn't convinced. "And I doubt he was completely unprovoked." He pointed a finger at F'kyr. "Ye may be a rider now, but there's a whole lot that comes with it that ye still have to learn. Especially since ye're a bronzerider. Try makin' people respect ye instead of just fearing ye." F'kyr hung his head, eyes narrowed angrily, and K'rul turned his gaze to Kelthere. "And ye could use some lessons in holdin' yer temper as well. The two of ye can help each other clean up the Great Hall first thing tomorrow morning."

Grimacing, Kelthere gave a snort and walked away. Behind him, he could hear F'kyr trying to argue with the Weyrlingmaster, but he was not having any success. He fingered his left eye gingerly. It was tender, and no doubt would be purple by tomorrow. He supposed he'd better go and get cleaned up.

D'nak stumbled back to the candidates' barracks later that night, tired and worn out (okay, and perhaps he'd had just a bit too much wine). He'd realized that he needed to retrieve his things from his old room before returning to the weyrlings' barracks and Taimosuth. A smile came unbidden to his lips at the thought of the dragon hatchling. He still found it hard to believe that he had Impressed, that Taimosuth hadn't chosen one of the other candidates instead.

He halted in the entrance to the barracks. "Faranth's egg, Kelthere, what happened to you?"

His friend gave a nonchalant shrug. His bruises and cuts didn't seem to bother him too much, at least. "F'kyr was mouthing off. Again. We got into a fight." He sat down on his bed with his back to D'nak.

D'nak grinned at that. "Well, I hope he looks a lot worse than you do, then," he said lightly.

Kelthere grunted and whispered so as to avoid waking the other candidates who were already asleep, "What are you doing here, anyway?"

"I came to get my stuff," D'nak said hesitantly. He found his own bed beside Kelthere's and started gathering his possessions—clothes, mementoes and other personal effects. "So…any idea what you're going to do now?"

"Sleep." Kelthere grunted as he pulled the furs over his head.

D'nak scowled. "That's not what I meant and you know it!" he whispered furiously. Kelthere didn't answer, but he was lying too still to be asleep. With a sigh, D'nak gave up. "Fine then. Whatever." He gathered up his stuff and left.

As D'nak entered the weyrling barracks, he felt a light brush on his mind. After a moment, he realized it must be Taimosuth waking up. "Mine? Are you there?" the blue hatchling asked sleepily.

D'nak rushed over to his dragon. The dragon bed was conveniently placed right at the foot of his own human-sized bed. Taimosuth looked amusingly tiny nestled in the big dragon bed, but D'nak figured that he would grow into it quickly. "I'm here," D'nak said in a low voice. Then he remembered that riders were supposed to be able to talk to their dragons without words, and he tried it. "I'm sorry if I woke you."

"It's okay." There was a pause before Taimosuth spoke again. "Is there something on your mind? You're upset."

D'nak sighed. It seemed his new companion was quite perceptive. "It's nothing, really. Kelthere--my friend--is just being a dimglow." He hoped Kelthere got over it soon; Taimosuth was wonderful, but he still missed his best friend, even if they hadn't been separated that long. As bad as not Impressing a dragon was, there had to be something that would cheer Kelthere up and send him back to his old self.

"Okay." Taimosuth seemed unperturbed. "Love you."

"Love you too." But Taimosuth was already fast asleep again. With a shrug, D'nak fell onto his bed and decided he might as well do the same.

(A/N: By the way, mind-talk is in quotes because I use italics a lot for personal thoughts and wanted to differentiate between the two. I'm aware that the normal method is to just italicize the dragon's thoughts; I simply thought I'd try to cut out confusion.