So, I know it's been an eternity since I've updated, but I was really lacking in the inspiration department for this story. However, I'm back on track. This was supposed to be the Gather chapter, but it was gonna be really long if I did that, so, chapter eight WILL be the Gather. And I've got some ridiculous stuff planned for that.

So, give me your thoughts and opinions, tell me if you have any ideas, and, read and enjoy.


CHAPTER SEVEN

Skipper regarded himself in front of his mirror for the umpteenth time, smoothing the wrinkles out of his clothing in an attempt to smooth away his worry.

Today was the day. The day. His first Gather. Sure, he'd been all nonchalant about it yesterday, but now that the moment had arrived, he found himself to be rather antsy. He still didn't quite see the point of it, but now that he was armed with new clothing, and the very likely possibility of running into N'tal, he found himself looking forward to the day.

As a result, he was hoping not to blow it. He just couldn't help but to think that somehow he would mess things up royally. If that happened, then he could kiss the day goodbye. He'd likely be hanging from a noose on some gnarled old tree in retribution for his crime against Mastersinger Jameth.

With a sigh, he decided to stop worrying about it. Or, at least, to stop openly worrying about it. After all, he was only part of the choir. If he missed a note, it would be drowned out by the others. The Mastersinger would probably notice (he always did), but as long as the audience didn't, it wouldn't matter quite as much. Or at least that's what he hoped.

He began moving towards the door; the other boys had filed out long ago, having attended Gather's their whole lives. They weren't nearly as nervous about it as Skipper was. Issie had been reluctant to live, but finally agreed after Skipper asked for a moment alone. The other boy really was quite tactless sometimes.

Closing the door behind him, he began the trek towards breakfast. They were being served that most important of meals in the Hall, and then they were off to the Gather. The Hold was close enough that a runnerbeast would make the trip easily, which was more practical than calling in the dragonriders for transportation.

His arrival in the eating hall was met with a cacophony of chatter. It didn't matter that it was quite early in the morning. Everyone was up and ready to go, and making it quite clear by their volume.

Passing a hand over his face in agitation, Skipper began making his way towards his usual table. The apprehension that had been plaguing him all morning simply would not be dismissed. It was rather disheartening.

Sitting with his friends was enough to dispel it, however. Their attitude was rather infectious this morning. They were normally not a group of early risers, except for Grant and Issie, but those two were just naturally odd.

"Hey boy! It's about time you got down here, we were wondering if you got lost or something," Grant said, clapping him on the back with a grin. Skipper mumbled something incomprehensible about being chipper this early, and slid in next to Grant and Tally.

The knot in his stomach made eating very undesirable, but he was left little choice in the matter. Grant immediately began piling food onto his plate, chatting the whole time about what awaited them at the Gather. Skipper quit listening after the second hotcake was placed on his plate.

Everyone else listened, however, and the whole group went through another bout of the joys of a Gather. Skipper half listened while methodically eating his food. He figured that he ought to eat as much as he could handle; it would be just his luck to get weak kneed, or light headed in the middle of the performance. Or have his stomach start rumbling at the most inopportune moment.

He finished right when everyone began filing out of the Hall, each grade level directed a different way, and by a different Master. The third years were being directed by Master Cheryl, a short, plump woman with snow white hair and an overly exuberant attitude. "Come one and all!" she shouted, "my darling third years, this way!" The woman really had a voice on her, despite being at least sixty.

Skipper, Issie, Looey, and Ellie all broke off together to head to the third year's prescribed destination, waving goodbye to the other four as they did so. Skipper wasn't exactly sure how this was going to work. Were all years going to leave together, and just stay with their year mates? Or could you mingle once you were on the road?

It wasn't long before he found out. He did, in fact, need to stay with his year mates until he checked in with Master Cheryl and collected his runnerbeast. After that, he was allowed to ride with whomever he wished, as long as he checked in again with his group Master when he arrived.

Looey made sure to stress that point. If a student didn't check in, then they would be hunted down by one of the Master's, and forced to stay with said Master for the duration of the Gather.

Skipper was glad to see that it was a relatively cool day. He was not up for sweating in the miserable sun for an hour. The ride to the Hold was relatively uneventful. Naturally, he, Looey, Issie, and Ellie met up with the other four in order to make the ride as enjoyable as possible. It was, actually, quite pleasant.

The boys were full of endless jokes (some of which were not meant for girls ears, yet were said anyway), and the girls were full of witty taunts. On a day like today, the girls had free reign with their tongues; they knew the boys wouldn't be getting upset with them.

Rosa displayed the greatest capacity for these jests (she'd grown up with four brothers) and, for this ride, Grant seemed to be the butt of them.

"I swear," Grant was saying, "that those hotdogs are the greatest things the Gather has ever produced. You're gonna love 'em, Skip." Grant, whose mind was always on food, had been outraged to discover that Skipper had never heard of a hotdog.

Skipper was rather dubious about trying the treat, however. He still had the leftover marks Looey had given him (she'd insisted he keep the considerable change), but he was feeling reluctant about spending them. These hotdogs were apparently five marks, when a cup of klah was only one!

He was saved from remarking by Rosa's interjection into the conversation.

"I bet you're a real big fan of long, meaty rods, aren't ya, Grant?" she said with a sly grin, while the other three girls snickered behind her.

Grant seemed unable to grasp what she was insinuating for a moment. When he did, he laughed heartily. "Oh, I don't know about that Rosa, they have to be hard, too."

After that, everyone burst out laughing, leaving Skipper slightly uncomfortable. He supposed he should be laughing too, but...he didn't...get it. Was she implying that Grant liked boys? Was that even possible? He shook his head and dismissed it. It didn't matter.

"Oh, look, Rosa, there goes your charming Uncle," Tally said sarcastically. Tally really was a nice girl, but when she didn't like one of the teaching Master's, everyone knew.

She had plenty of nicknames for those Master's she despised; Mimi the Witch, for the red-haired Mastercomposer with a rather eccentric style, The Bimbo, for the young, clueless woman that just began teaching, and, among others, Bald-Leans-Over-My-Shoulder-Man, for the absentminded and aging Master in charge of making instruments. Her nicknames served for quite entertaining conversations.

Skipper glanced towards the object of her scrutiny, noticing with a feeling of dread that the Mastersinger had a thunderous scowl on his face. What a great way to start the day, Skipper thought dryly, now he'll really be ready to notice any and all mistakes. As if the man had heard Skipper's thoughts, he began gravitating towards their group.

"Uncle!" Rosa said, grinning as she did so, "it's a wonderful day, wouldn't you say?" she giggled at her own rhyme. He only rolled his eyes.

"You're all looking sharp," he said approvingly. Apparently Rosa's salutation turned an insult into a compliment. Her uncle really did love her.

"And you're looking absolutely wonderful!" she said, still grinning in a half mocking, half sincere way. "I haven't seen you this dressed up in ages."

"Yes, well, it's only for these useless Gatherings that I bother," he said, brushing his shoulder off as he did so. "These clothes are so distasteful." He was dressed in a tan blouse, tight at the wrists and tight at the collar, with a green vest, embroidered in gold, over it, supposedly to bring out the green in his hazel eyes, and a pair of deeper brown pants to match, with boots that went up to the knee. The Mastersinger looked absolutely dignified and utterly uncomfortable.

Rosa sighed. "It really is a shame. You have such a wonderful sense of style, and yet lack the will to apply it."He scowled at her good naturedly before turning his attention elsewhere.

"I'm pleased to see that you all made an effort to look your best. I would have been severely disappointed had you done otherwise,"he was slowly appraising them all with a much more intent scrutiny than he'd applied earlier.

Skipper began to fidget nervously. He thought that he looked rather spiffy, but this man was unpredictable. Unsurprisingly, he came to view Skipper last. The man really did have it out for him.

"Apprentice Skipper, I must say that you clean up rather nicely. You're outfit has to be the most impressive of all," he said with satisfaction, causing Skipper to blush with pleasure at the compliment. It was nice to hear something kind out of the Mastersinger every now and then!

"Thank you, sir," he said, keeping his outward seeming of confidence intact.

Apparently he said something wrong, however, for the Mastersinger was suddenly a little less amiable. "Tuck in that shirt," he said, before riding off while shaking his head. Bewildered, Skipper gave Rosa a look. She merely shrugged.


Jameth continued to ride towards the front of the crowd, scowling as he did so. That boy, he thought scathingly, is the most arrogant, pompous little brat that I've ever seen! He was going to harbor a dislike for his young student for the duration of his stay in the Hall. Not only did Apprentice Skipper ruin his composition, but he also had to act nonchalant about it, and everything else!

Every time Jameth made an attempt to tender a compliment to the boy, he always acted like it was expected, even deserved. It's not like I give compliment's lightly, the Mastersinger thought in annoyance, and yet he always acts like it's no big deal.

He clenched his hands into fists to keep them from running through his hair. He had a habit of raking his fingers through his locks when he was agitated. It was the reason why his braid always came slightly loose, causing wisps of hair to frame his face. Today was not the day for untidiness, however, so he would have to make do with fist clenching.

Really, I don't even know why I let the child get to me, Jameth thought, he'll be gone in three years, and then I won't have to deal with him hardly at all if I so choose. But he couldn't help to think that here he had found someone that might come to understand the beauty of song. Skipper's enthusiasm for using those pipes of his could easily grow into the passion that Jameth himself harbored. And Jameth desired that kind of kindred understanding.

Perhaps if I begin to treat him more like an adult, rather than some uneducated child I won't have this problem. Maybe if I actually have a conversation with him, I could learn to deal with his arrogance, he thought wryly. Jameth began to think it was time to begin those private tutoring lessons. One event after another had prevented it, but now it seemed like more of a priority. The boy had a natural talent, and Jameth's personal feelings shouldn't be hindering it.

Thankfully, thoughts of Apprentice Skipper could be put aside. They'd reached the Hold at last. Time for another headache, Jameth thought dejectedly, as he went to collect the fourth years.