Caution: these contain spoilers for the second film.

Note: There are a fair few non-HTTYD loops in this set. This fic will now contain some loops from other dragon-centric settings at times. (Not Spyro, though, that's got its own set.)


11.1


Stoic answered the phone.

He was still getting used to what Hiccup called "Nuclear tech" loops. The state of technology which seemed standard for quite a few baselines, and one which – this time – applied to their own.

Rather than a set of islands in the North Sea, Berk was a dragon nature sanctuary in the mid-west of Vinland.

They called it the USA, but to Stoic it was Vinland.

He, Valka and Gobber ran it; the kids were hired-on help or (in the case of Hiccup and Astrid) lived here; and, of course, Drago was a shady property developer.

Seeing that slab-like body in a suit was just hilariously weird.

"Hello?" he said into the phone, without preamble. "Stoic the Vast – ah, Stoic Haddock here."

A pause.

"Yes, Hiccup."

"Yes, I know you've got a driving license. You insisted on getting one."

"Pardon?" Stoic put a finger in his other ear. "There's a lot of noise, are you – that's better. What was that?"

"Yes, I know you can drive pickups."

"Why are you asking all these simple questions, Hiccup?"

There was a longer than usual pause. Then Stoic let out a loud sigh. "Okay, hand me over."

He rubbed the bridge of his nose, whistling erratically, then cleared his throat. "Okay, officer. Yes, Hiccup's my son, he's qualified to drive the truck, he's got a livestock transportation license, and he most certainly can transport livestock with the truck. And yes, I know he's got them."

A pause. A very brief pause.

"Then what's the problem? Look, it's not a fake ID, and I know he's got the truck. What's the problem?"

"Well then that's their problem."

He put the phone back on the hook, on the second try. "Shards, I still haven't gotten the hang of this..."


"See?" Hiccup demanded. "What's the problem?"

Can we get going? Toothless asked Hiccup plaintively. I want to stick my head out the side of the truck and loll my tongue out again.

"The problem, young man, is that you're causing a disturbance." With a disapproving frown, the patrolman ripped up the ticket he'd been writing. "I can't actually charge you with it, but – I'll be watching you, kid."

After another glare, the man got back into his vehicle, and drove off slowly. Looking back at them in the mirror until he was out of sight.

"Phew." Hiccup exhaled, then swung up into the driver's seat. "Sorry about that, bud."

Never mind sorry, Toothless said impatiently. Let's just get back to the road trip!

"Yeah, we're probably going to be stopped again if we make too many more people nearly crash." Hiccup directed a look at his partner. "So if you'd just try not to freak people out...?"

Sorry, couldn't hear you over the sound of us not going on a road trip. Toothless spread his wings, making unhappy noises. It's not often we get to go on a journey without these carrying us.

"Just get yourself back in the seatbelt." Hiccup turned the ignition, and shifted the truck into first gear. (After all the times he'd had to use the tail fin with Toothless, a stick shift seemed easier.)

He didn't let the clutch out until there was a – somehow, sullen – click from the truck bed.


11.2


Louise de Valliere triggered her summoning spell. This had to work!

With a bright flash of green light, something very big dropped into the centre of the circle.

"Well, well," the teacher said with an interested eyebrow-raise. "It appears, miss Louise, that you've summoned a dragon."

He frowned. "But I'm not sure what kind..."

I? The black dragon raised up on his hind legs, flaring his wings. I am the Unholy Offspring of Lightning and Death Itself! I am a Night Fury, the swiftest of all dragons, possessed of a mighty flame that burns even rock! I am- the tone of the silent voice changed from bragging to confused. Okay, you're not Hiccup. What the Hel's going on?

"Hi, bud," one of the other students said, waving from next to a large griffin.

Okay, nope. The dragon took off with a slamming wingbeat, and flew over to the other student – leaving Louise looking rather startled in the summoning circle.


What's going on? Toothless repeated. What is going on? Who's that?

Hiccup nodded to the griffin, who rolled upright.

Tail lashing, the griffin crunched her foreclaws together with a clack sound. "She, you right pillock, is Gilda the Griffin."

Toothless looked Gilda up and down. Oh, yeah, I remember you – the shouty one. This earned a snigger from Hiccup and a look from Gilda. How's Equestria?

"Could be worse." Gilda shrugged, then punched Toothless in the shoulder. "You're all right, dragon. Now, what was the big deal?"

Well... Toothless twitched his wings in a shrug. Hiccup is sorta mine. I've been here before, it's just... you're kind of in my slot.

Gilda tapped her beak. "Right, right." (By now, most of the students had gotten over their shock at a talking dragon and a talking griffin, and were actually listening to what they were saying.) "Tell you what. Swap?"

Fine by me.

Toothless strutted over to lie down behind Hiccup, neatly taking the place Gilda had vacated.

Gilda, for her part, fluttered over to land in the summoning ring. "Right," she said, pointing at Louise. "You're with me now. You pass the coffee, I beat stuff up."

Louise looked helplessly at Colbert, who pursed his lips. "It's very irregular... has the summoning contract been completed yet?"

"Just did it with Toothless!" Hiccup called. "Gilda never got bonded."

"Yeah," Gilda agreed. "Okay, how do we do this?"

"Bonding is sealed with a kiss," Colbert said automatically.

"I'm not into bipeds," Gilda replied near-instantly.


11.3


"Wow," Hiccup said, looking at his friend. "You really got the short end of the stick this time, right?"

Toothless nodded, and scratched behind one ear. 'scuse me, can you not do that?

"Sorry." Hiccup made sure to hold his hand level.

That's better. Toothless walked around in a circle on the palm, then curled up. I'm flippin' miniscule. Can't I just shift to normal size?

"Actually..." Hiccup snapped the fingers of his other hand. "How's your fire breath?"

Not tried yet. Hold on.

Toothless got up, walked to the tip of one finger, inhaled, and then spat a plasma ball that was several times larger than he was. It blew a tree to bits – fortunately sending it crashing down away from them – and scattered flaming splinters all over the forest floor.

"Whoa!" Hiccup shouted, and waved a hand a little too enthusiastically. Toothless barely escaped going flying.

Oi!

"Sorry, bud..." Hiccup stroked down Toothless' back with his left forefinger, and the chibi-Night Fury subsided. "So your fireballs are the same as normal... actually, though, we could use this for a funny."

Really? Toothless looked up at him, eye ridges raised. How?


"...and so, great Drago," Hiccup concluded, bringing forward a chest. "This is the tribute we have rendered unto you."

Drago Bludvist opened the chest, chuckling. "Even the dragon master understands," he commented. "What is this?"

Under the works of beaten gold, and the valuable gemstones, and the ornately made glazed pottery, was a small wooden box.

Inside that, Drago discovered as he continued to investigate, was a long ream of fine silk cloth. Unwrapping that revealed a smaller jewellery box, and opening that revealed a matchbox-sized cardboard contrivance.

Drago puzzled over it for a moment, before working out that to open it one pressed on one end. He did, and promptly exploded.

Does this make me a Trojan Dragon? Toothless asked, hovering up out of the matchbox.

"More like a drake-in-the-box, I think..." Hiccup picked up the cloak of dragonhide. "I never worked out what this was actually from..."


11.4


"Well, so much for that hope," Lessa said, sighing.

Ramoth rumbled soothingly. It is only for this time.

"I know, dear heart." Lessa caressed Ramoth's wing shoulder, and smiled. Then her expression turned a little more sour. "I now know what F'lar goes through rather more often than I do."

I miss him, Ramoth mused. And Mnementh. This Mnementh is very like the one we know, but... he is less, somehow. I suppose it is mostly that he is younger.

"I think he's less affected than other dragons are by looping, actually," Lessa volunteered. "Ruth was least of all – even when he's not looping, I can have a very full conversation with him – but Mnementh is quite bright even when he's not looping."

Ramoth sighed. At least we flew well. There is that.

"There is indeed." Lessa smiled, remembering the previous day. Then a delightfully wicked idea occurred to her. "Dear one – do we know who the Anchor is, if not F'lar?"

Oh, yes, there does have to be one, doesn't there? Ramoth's tone turned interested. Well, he's nowhere in Benden – we'd have noticed.

"And it's not someone taking Jaxom's place, either." Lessa tapped her chin. "Hm. I sort of wish I had a better education. This loop, I mean," she amended.

After contemplating for a moment more, she stood. "If they're not here, then there's one place they're likely to be. Let's go check."

Of course. Ramoth bent to allow Lessa to climb on. Is this technically Between lessons?

"I'll teach you if you teach me." Lessa blinked. "Hm, sounded a bit like a song..."

Appropriate. Ramoth took off, and vanished.


High above Fort Hold, the golden dragon that was Ramoth blinked into existence.

"There they are," Lessa said, pointing. "That would be Lady Benoria's unexpected trip to Benden."

As she spoke, the brown dragon and his flanking blues disappeared, to go and make F'lar's point about the futility of attempting military coercion on a Weyr.

Aha, Ramoth announced. You were right, dear Lessa. Harper Hall.

"Well, then, let's pay them a visit," Lessa instructed, and Ramoth began to descend in tight spirals.


"Ah, Weyrwoman Lessa. How nice to see you," the Masterharper said, eyes sparkling with good humour. "And Ramoth the Golden, as well."

Greetings, Masterharper Olorin, Ramoth replied formally.

"I'm a little surprised to see it's you in particular," Lessa said, sitting down. "Do try some of the wine, Benden wines are remarkably good even in the multiverse."

"I actually find myself preferring the Tillek," Gandalf informed her. "It's a little foxy, perhaps, but it has a certain something."

"Now I know you're not Robinton," Lessa laughed. "He can't get enough of Benden."

"I can't blame him – even that is very good. Now," and Gandalf favoured her with a look. "I'm wondering – what can I expect, here?"

"A few things." Lessa shrugged. "In particular, Robinton Impresses a fire-lizard at one point. You know of them? Miniature dragons?"

"I have occasionally heard tell, yes." Gandalf nodded, absorbing that. "Any idea who it may be?"

For you, perhaps Shadowfax. Ramoth shifted slightly on her spot outside – Lessa could hear a quite spectacular amount of gossip going on as harpers debated whether to approach the only golden queen on all of Pern.

"Ah, Shadowfax..." Gandalf smiled. "I've never been quite sure if he is looping. He has a certain elemental horse sense – if you'll pardon the pun."

"I don't," Lessa said tartly.

"Oh, shame..."

"Well, it's nice to know who the Anchor is." Lessa stood, and shook his hand. "Feel free to call me any time. Drum me up, and Ramoth can open a conversation."

"Most generous." Masterharper Olorin, as he was here, showed her to the door. "I trust you have places to be?"

"Places to be, times to visit, and significant others to discombobulate." Lessa rubbed her hands together, still in riding leathers. "It's so rare I get to prank him."


"F'lar..." Lessa said, nervously. "I know R'gul said queens don't fly..."

F'lar snorted at that.

"That's about what I thought," she agreed. "But I wanted to try anyway. So I got Ramoth saddled up, and tried going Between."

F'lar stood from the desk, and stepped around it. "You did what? That is incredibly dangerous, Lessa!"

It wasn't hard, Ramoth said, hurt. It's instinct. So long as you know where to go, you get there.

"Well... about that." Lessa ducked adroitly under his arms, and shrugged. "I kind of got lost, and I found these very nice men and women."

They followed us home, Ramoth took up the thread. Can we keep them?

"Keep who?" F'lar asked, momentarily lost.

"Well, let's see..." Lessa began counting on her fingers. "There's T'ron, Mardra, Merika, T'kul, G'narish, D'ram, Fanna, Bedella, R'mart, and I think that's almost it for the Weyrleaders..."

I can't remember the name of the Igen Weyrwoman either, Ramoth consoled her. And then there is G'dened, B'zon, G'lanar... we'd list them all, but there are about two and a half thousand of them.

On cue, the trumpeting of thousands upon thousands of dragons filled the sky.

Quick as lightning, Lessa slipped her camera out of her Pocket and took a picture of F'lar's face. It was so rare she got to do this to him, and it deserved preservation.


11.5


"What's that?" Crenden asked, shading his eyes. "Looks like there might be a storm ahead."

"Pardon?" one of the drovers said. "Not storm weather."

"Well, look." Crenden Lilcamp pointed. "What's that, if not lightning?"

Jayge's heart leapt into his throat. "Dragons," he said softly, then raised his voice. "Father, it's dragons – fighting Thread!"

"It's-"

Jayge saw his father's face collapse, with the realization that they were hours from any shelter.

"What can we do?" someone whispered.

"...I don't..." Crenden shook himself. "Fire, or water, or hard stone. That's all that works."

"Will the dragons save us?"

"I don't know," Crenden replied. "And Benden's only got a few hundred fighting dragons – can they possibly protect everything? And-" he scowled. "We're hours from shelter, curse me for a fool."

"The river?"

"It'll have to be the river." Crenden pointed at Jayge. "Son – take your runner-beast, find the best path to the river. We'll have to chance it, save everyone we can. Go!"

Before Jayge had spun his runner, a dragon erupted out of the air. Much closer to them, close enough to make the runner-beasts and herd-beasts flinch and moan with proximity.

The brown dragon landed up-slope, and its rider jumped down with focused haste. "Are you the Lilcamp traders?"

"Yes – yes, brown rider," Crenden replied. "I'm Crenden Lilcamp, head of this train."

"F'nor, rider of brown Canth." The rider nodded. "I'm half-brother of F'lar, Benden weyrleader. We sent out sweep riders to help make sure none of the old-time riders missed a new holding-" he held up a hand to forestall questions which did not materialize, "and Renth saw you out on the road. Surely you heard Thread was due?"

Crenden frowned, eyes dark. "Not when we left our last stop," he said, and Jayge noticed the evasion – a runner had caught up with them after barely an hour on the road, but no-one had believed him.

F'nor gave him a cool look. "I see," he said eventually. "Right. Canth – tell Lessa there's some traders out in the open."

He paused, then continued. "We're going to bring in a dozen flamethrowers to help protect the immediate area, and three wings of dragons to shield you. We can't promise anything, but we'll do what we can. Only – stay here! We need to know where to cover."

Crenden nodded, relief obvious on his face. "Thank you, brown rider F'nor. Only..."

Jayge watched as his father's hand swept the sky – taking in the darting specks of dragons, much nearer now, and the eruptions of flame as they seared Thread. "Where did these dragons all come from? More than Benden has."

F'nor winked. "Remember the Question song, Crenden Lilcamp."

Canth bugled, and three wings of dragons appeared in formation. They were at different heights – the highest well above any of the nearby mountains, the lowest barely clearing the hilltop around which the trace ran.

A moment later, three greens appeared in a V-shape. They landed downslope of Canth, next to the traders, and began passing out long slender wands.

"Did you- good." F'nor nodded to a passenger on one of the greens. "Saren will see you to rights. Listen to what he tells you, and you should be able to sear any Thread we miss."

With that, the brown rider leapt aside Canth and took off.

Jayge followed him with his eyes, until the brown winked out.

F'nor, rider of brown Canth. He'd remember that name.

He wanted to buy that brown rider a drink.


"That's one good deed," F'nor said to Canth as they climbed.

To add to many. Canth looked up at Leading Edge, which had nearly reached them. I like Jayge. He is good to that girl Aramina.

He inhaled, and spat flame, charring away a wide swath of the horrible organism which had made it through the wings higher up.

Perhaps this time he will not hate dragon riders so much.

F'nor looked down, and saw the remnants caught by a green. Another green darted down and destroyed a burrow.

Fighting Thread was what dragons were made to do. They did a lot more, but... it was good to get back to the roots now and again.


11.6


"Woo!" Snotlout announced, swaggering into the main room and throwing his riding gloves to the table. "Easy!"

"What was?" Hiccup asked, looking up from a history book about the mid-ninth century.

"Oh... well, guess who just did the Grand Slam in an afternoon?" Snotlout pointed to his chest. "This guy."

"Which grand slam do you mean?" Hiccup closed the book, and looked up.

"Highest mountains on every continent, and both poles." Snotlout struck a pose. "Who's the man?"

"Actually..." Hiccup held in a snigger at the antics of his friend. "First off, stop posing, you'll curdle the milk." Snotlout slumped, though his own expression showed he was trying not to laugh himself. "And second, technically, you have to climb the mountain for a Grand Slam. Or walk to the pole."

"...aw, come on!" Snotlout kicked the table leg. "It took Hook and me a week to get those coordinates!"

"Yeah, going Between really isn't in the spirit of the challenge." Hiccup shrugged. "Perhaps you should try walking? I mean, most mountain climbers don't have a partner who can set himself on fire, and pockets mean we have no such thing as supply issues."

I like the sound of that, Hookfang put in. It sounds like it would be quite a journey.

"You sure, Hook?" Snotlout checked.

I think I am.

"Okay. Hey, Hiccup, if anyone asks where I've gone for the next, like, month... I'm climbing Mount Snotlout."

"Everest," Hiccup replied with a sigh. "Or Chomolungma, or even Sagarmāthā."

"I put my flag on it first, so it's my mountain." Snotlout was out the door before Hiccup could retort again.


11.7


Good morning, Beauty sent.

The other fire-lizard raised himself up on his wings and forelegs, and chirped welcome.

Beauty's eyes whirled with gentle green pleasure. You are a very polite little fire lizard.

Sandy cocked his head for a moment, then nodded, and looked back down at his still-sleeping human.

You do him a lot of good, Beauty added. I can never tell how much you understand...

The brown met her gaze, then frowned in concentration. A picture appeared in Beauty's mind – Camo, cleaning the fireplace in a room in which the youngest of the Hall were learning their basic teaching ballads. Sandy was on his shoulder, and the two of them were both nodding almost imperceptibly in time with the music.

Beauty was quite astonished. Both that Sandy had been able to construct an image related to her statement, and that it had involved a view of himself – from the outside.

That was interestingly close to abstract thought.

You are also a very peculiar fire lizard, it seems, she sent – already wondering who could help determine just how sapient the brown fire-lizard was.


"Ruth, of course," Menolly suggested. "Who else?"

Beauty laughed. True. He's halfway to fire lizard himself.

Actually, Diver added, hopping up onto his perch. Has Ruth ever been a fire lizard?

"Don't think so." Menolly wrote down another few measures of music. "The closest thing to not being Jaxom's dragon he's been was that time Toric actually Impressed at Benden. You remember?"

I don't, Rocky said.

Neither do I, Diver contributed.

Must have been before these two properly Awoke, Beauty decided, giving her bronzes fond looks. But yes, I remember. Bronze rider T'ric. Now that was a strange loop...

"Yes, it was, wasn't it?" Menolly shrugged. "But, I was actually thinking of how it was Sharra who Impressed him that time... well, technically, anyway. Of course Ruth is basically bonded to both of them."

True. Beauty flirted her tail. We're getting off topic. I'm starting to wonder about Sandy...

"Well, Jaxom doesn't have the time to pop over to us just yet," Menolly said with a shrug. "You know how it is – F'nor becomes High Reaches Weyrleader..."

...and Jaxom's free time evaporates. It was one of the more peculiar patterns.

Rocky shrugged. It's not urgent, is it?

No, I'm just curious. Beauty shook her head and flew to Menolly's shoulder. What's that you're writing there?

"Teaching ballad about what AIVAS is." Menolly whistled a few of the bars, then played them on her pan-pipes. "I'm going for woodwind techno."

I hope you don't expect me to sing this, Beauty informed her tartly. It'd tie my larynx in a knot.

And it wouldn't even shut you up, Diver lamented. Then winced as Beauty shot him a venomous look.


11.8


"Ah, another fine day on Berk," Hiccup said, stretching in the sunlight.

Then blinked.

"Wait a sec..." Toothless?

Morning, Hiccup, Toothless replied, and Hiccup had the faint phantom-sensations of his dragon partner rolling out of his sleep-circle, shaking himself out, and cleaning his teeth (low flame across the teeth, four seconds.) What is it?

Well... Hiccup pondered how to put it. Where the heck did the sea go?

For as far as Hiccup could see, there was no sweep of majestic (and freezing) North Sea. Just a majestic (and freezing) gently sloping hillside, covered with snow patches and snowdrops and tundra grasses and – surprisingly – crops. Viking crops.

You what? Toothless sent back, then Okay, that's new. I see a river or two, big ones, heading north – but no sea.

"Oh, wait a second..." Hiccup said aloud.

Berk was, rather than an island, a hilltop fort. It was warrened with tunnels, and provided a safe haven for the nearby population in times of war or disaster.

It was also very chilly, even for the time of year, and the air was uncomfortably thin. Hiccup felt more like he was several thousand feet up a mountainside than at... well, it wasn't sea level any more, was it?

Get over here, would you? Hiccup asked, rummaging in his pocket for one of his more sophisticated harnesses. Let's have a look from above.

A few seconds later, Toothless appeared, and came gliding in to land in front of him. Loki and Heimdall, it's unusually hard to fly in air this thin... thanks for the jump imagery.

"Yeah... world as off as this, using remembered images from other loops is dangerous," Hiccup confirmed, and they started the complex process of hooking Toothless into the harness.

It was designed for extreme conditions – specially tough hide, burnished mithril for the metal pieces, doubly redundant, and shimmering with a faint enchantment for durability. Hiccup also attached himself to it in three different places, controlled by four different quick-release catches – he could free himself with both hands, or unlatch two of them ahead of time, but he was unlikely to fall out.

"Right, bud. Let's go exploring."

On it. Toothless spread his wings, took a running start, and hammered at the air. The extra lift from their ground speed turned the trick, and he took to the skies.

Seriously, how thin is this air? Toothless muttered. Feels like the top of a mountain range...

"I dunno..." Hiccup rummaged around again, and took out a barometer. "Hmmm... point seven of normal, looks like. Equivalent to about 6,000 feet, roughly I mean."

Huh. Less than I expected. Toothless rolled his wings in a shrug. I suppose I'm just out of shape then.

"I wasn't going to say anything," Hiccup told him. "Now, since we're only that high, want to try higher?"

How high were you thinking?

"Let's try another few kilometres. Try and get an overview. And... head south." Hiccup took out a compass next, and compared it with the angle of the sun. "Thataway."


Okay, that is not normal.

"Just what I was thinking," Hiccup replied, taking in the bizarre sight ahead of them.

That's that lake in Caledonia, right? Toothless glanced back at Hiccup. Loch Ness?

"Yep. Surrounded by glaciers."

Hiccup sighed, and tapped Toothless on the neck. "We may as well head down, I think it's going to take more than flying straight to work this one out."

You do, huh. Toothless obediently began a long spiral that would bring him down to a landing on the one small island in the Loch.


"Did you know this was artificial?" Hiccup asked, thumping the ground under them as Toothless moved away from their landing site. "Tells us there used to be people here, at least."

Fascinating, Toothless said, not fascinated. Where have they gone?

"That," Hiccup told him, "Is what we are going to find out."

He stepped over to the water's edge. "Okay, here we go... nothing up my left sleeve. Nothing up my right sleeve."

-and something appeared. A very large something, in fact – a spindle-shape with two swept wings and two large engines mounted above the fuselage, and nearly thirty feet long.

It appeared about four inches above the waters of the Loch, plunged into it, and produced a small wave that soaked both boy and dragon.

"Whoops..." Hiccup muttered, pressing the buttons to open the door. "Forgot how much these things weigh."

Over two hundred and fifty tonnes? Toothless asked.

"That's about right." As he stepped into the door, Hiccup ran his fingers over the legend written next to the door.

Pinnace 2 – HMS Fafnir – Royal Manticoran Navy.

"Remember the Fafnir, bud?" Hiccup asked. He took a few steps further into the pinnace, and activated the counter-grav to lift it out of the water entirely.

That was that ship you got on Manticore, once, wasn't it? Toothless asked, stepping in himself. I seem to recall we got it blown up.

"Only once everyone was off the ship," Hiccup sighed. "Anyway, this is that pinnace I salvaged and converted for you to use. So if you'd be so kind, oh dragon my dragon?"

I demand a white beret, Toothless said promptly, making for the cabin. Go check the engines work, please.

"Sure."


"Right, that's done," Hiccup said, most of an hour later. "Reactor's fuelled up, engines both work on self test, and the electronics are nominal."

Good, Toothless muttered, slightly distracted. This flight clearance checklist has gotten longer than last time, I swear... okay, item 423. Seal flight deck and cabin.

His tail hooked around to punch a control. Sealed and seal holding.

"How are you taking her up?" Hiccup asked. "Counter-grav?"

Where would be the fun in that? Toothless asked, placing his forelegs in the control pits and his chin in the wraparound screen – both added to let him drive the pinnace.

Then he fired the bow thrusters.


The slender dart of battle-steel jerked in the water, the nose rising abruptly into the air to the thunder of engines and an explosion of spray.

With a sudden roar, the main engines cut in, and their pinnace shot skywards, leaving behind it a cloud of steam and water vapour, an incredibly loud noise, and a small avalanche into the Loch triggered by the engine blast.


"Show-off," Hiccup muttered.

Hey, who's driving here? Toothless climbed them steadily into the air, keeping the acceleration within the onboard inertial compensator, and then switched to Impellers at twelve kilometres up once the air-breathing turbines stopped working entirely.

"That was hugely wasteful of reaction mass," Hiccup pointed out.

Yeah, but it was fun. Toothless punched a few more commands into the computer, and then stepped away from the controls. Okay, we're headed for a parking orbit. Let's have lunch.


Well, that answered very little, Toothless said, as they took in the view.

"Yeah," Hiccup agreed. "About all we've learned is that all the water went missing."

Not quite all. But most of it.

Hiccup accepted the correction with a nod. "Does that mean all the air kind of... flowed down into where the oceans used to be?"

Suppose.

"Right." Hiccup clapped Toothless on the shoulder. "You know what this means, Toothless?"

Well, it could mean a lot of things... Toothless hedged.

"It means that, down in those old ocean basins, there's some really thick air. Thicker than we normally ever get to fly in."

...okay, I like the sound of that. The Night Fury headed back to the controls. I'll take us in for a landing somewhere in the old Arctic Ocean.


"Well, this is a first," Hiccup said, lying back on the hill they'd found. "Must be all the thicker air and moisture. And the depth."

Yeah. Toothless flapped his wings, grinning at the sensation. This air feels like the strongest high pressure system ever, times about ten. It's just so easy to fly down here!

"Air like wine," Hiccup agreed, and picked some more berries from the nearest bush. He ate three, and tossed another couple to Toothless who snatched them out of the air. "And this is the most absurd meal I've had in a long time."

They're just berries.

"Yeah, at the North Pole." Hiccup took another deep breath. "I think I'm going to miss this place. Lovely, not-too-cold climate at the North Pole... air so thick you can practically walk on it... and hundreds of thousands of square miles of uncharted territory to explore."

Very true. Toothless rolled over onto the grass. Any idea where we should head next? I don't mind flying straight at all, in this climate.

"I was thinking... a grand tour. Given how long our loop normally is, we should be able to fly the length of the Atlantic, and check out the Pacific – and visit anything interesting along the way."

Hiccup pulled out a holocube, and turned it to a map of the Earth's oceans including bathymetry. He then removed several miles of water, laying bare the unusual world they now found themselves in.

"Here's the basic map. Let's see where it's wrong."

I thought you'd never ask.


11.9


"Our next target," Nasuada said, looking around at the rest of the Varden commanders, "is the city of Teirm."

"Easy," Eragon said, leaning back on his chair. "It's impossible to storm, pathetically vulnerable to a siege, and one of the easiest placed to blockade that I know of."

Everyone looked at him.

"Care to explain further?" Nasuada invited.

"Sure." Eragon stood, and snapped his fingers. "Herma."

An image appeared in the air, over the top of the map.

Eragon pointed at it. "This is the city. It's surrounded by a curtain wall one hundred feet high, thirty feet thick, and ninety percent pointless."

Angela looked vaguely hurt.

"Pointless?" one of the commanders asked. "Why do you say that?"

"There are two kinds of threat to a city," Eragon answered. "An assault or a siege. An assault would be completely impossible unless you went through the gates – which is still pretty damned hard – but thickening the wall much past ten feet doesn't help with that. It also doesn't really help the wall resist being knocked down. As for height..." Eragon shrugged. "Thirty feet is enough, unless the wall's completely undefended. And it doesn't matter how high it is, a dragon will just fly over it."

But I'm not going in alone against an entire garrison again, Saphira chimed in.

"Assaulting a city is a ridiculously bloody business," Eragon continued. "So there's the other way of attacking. Siege. Cut off all the supplies in and out, and wait for it to fall."

He indicated the walls. "Since all their money went on those stupid walls, there's no granaries big enough to supply the city for more than about a month. Give it two and the place gives up because everyone's too hungry."

Finally, as an encore, he indicated the estuary. "And the whole point of the place is to build or receive ships, but the shipping channel is tiny."

"How do you-" Nasuada asked.

Long experience, Eragon thought. "Saphira and I did a fly over. The channel's very easy to see," he said. "Anyway, block that, surround the place, and we'll have it before autumn."

He picked up an apple, and bit into it. "Stupid wall was built to keep out pirates, anyway..." he muttered. "What kind of pirates can do anything meaningful to a wall that big..."

Really, it was the wasted effort that offended him.


"...sometimes, I hate it when this happens," Eragon said absently.

I've never understood when things like that happen, Saphira agreed. Why, and how, did your cousin just capture Terim single-handedly?

"Because he's Roran, that's why." Eragon sighed. "It's never made sense to me either. You wait, he's going to turn out to have bragged his way in or something."


11.10


The harpers bowed to raucous applause, their set finished.

Jaxom nodded to each of them in turn. It was good of them to come to his confirmation hearing – though, really, with Lessa in Benden and F'lessan Impressed there was never any real doubt. At least Ruth was a small dragon.

I'm larger than Faranth and Carenath, you know, Ruth interjected.

I do know, Ruth, Jaxom sent back fondly. Then he noticed Menolly was staying on the dais.

Beauty flapped to her shoulder, and she gave the queen fire-lizard a loving caress before turning to the interested crowd. Behind her, a grinning Piemur lugged an odd-looking instrument on stage, like a piano keyboard without the body of the piano.

That looks like a synthesizer, he sent to Ruth, interested.

"It is," Sharra said next to him. Jaxom turned to his fiancée, and she gave him a smirk. "Well, Menolly wanted to try with just the violin, but I convinced her it needed something more for the full impact."

"That what needed the full impact?" Jaxom asked.

"Well, I did ask her to play this here," Sharra said. "She arranged it a few loops back – Ruth and I were Awake, you weren't."

"Oh?" Jaxom gave her an interested look, then turnd back to the stage. "So, specially for this event?"

"Not really." Sharra shook her head. "It's specially for everywhere."

That seemed a bit like a contradiction, to Jaxom.

Menolly began to speak. "This piece is a modified version of a very old one. It was written for the composer's beloved home meadows, but I think it belongs here. Here – and everywhere. My version is called Beauty Ascending."

That said, she raised her violin to her chin, and began to play.

The violin rang out into the open Gather square, and the remaining sussurations of talk ceased. All eyes and ears turned to the Journeywoman Harper on the dais.

Beauty opened her wings, and took off into the still air. She rose slowly, dancing in the air, her voice rising and falling as an integral part of the piece.

About three minutes in, the final component of the piece began to cut in. Piemur's little symthesizer must have had some very big speakers concealed somewhere, as it produced beautiful soaring strings and trumpets as accompaniment to the main violin with practically no distortion whatsoever.

All told, the piece took nearly fifteen minutes. Fifteen minutes in which practically no-one dared breathe, as Menolly's version of The Lark Ascending rang in the skies over Ruatha Hold. Giving the truth to Menolly's words – no matter where it had been written, it belonged everywhere.

Menolly finally ran her bow along the strings of the violin one last time, then took her fingers off them and lowered the instrument.

Beauty's golden speck in the sky hung there for a moment, then slowly descended to land on her outstretched arm.

Then the applause started.


11.11


"Got to love early-loop Berk," Hiccup said, with perhaps just a hint of sarcasm.

Indeed, Toothless sent back, as they soared overhead under cover of night. What's the plan this time?

I've not decided yet. Hiccup stretched. "We could try the old ninja dragon standby, of course..."

I am good at that. Toothless looked down, and frowned. Hold on a minute...

With a pair of powerful wingbeats, he shed height and gained speed. That looks like a sail down there.


It was. It was quite a strangely shaped sail, actually. And the design of the ship it was attached to was something quite foreign to the sturdy northern European longships built around Berk.

What a piece of Junk, Toothless commented idly from overhead.

Actually, it's a Dhow, Hiccup shot back. It's probably made by the same people as the ones who make junks, though. Both were invented by the Chinese, and that's definitely a Chinese rig - though I only know that because of the times you were a Lung.

Hiccup trimmed his own sail. Not sure what it's doing the other side of the planet to where it set off, though. Hold on.

As the other craft ran close-hauled to the wind, Hiccup ducked the boom of his sail and came about to run alongside.

"Hello the ship!" Hiccup called, from the little dory he used whenever he had to take to the seas alone. "You're getting a bit close to Berk!"

"Am I?" asked a voice from inside. There was a pause, and then a bespectacled face in a straw hat and a loud shirt peered over the dhow's rail. "Excellent!"

"No it's not!" called a voice from inside the ship. "Why couldn't we stay out to sea, where it's safe?"

"Because you don't like storms," the bespectacled man replied, smiling to himself. "Er – excuse me, can you take us in to Berk?"

"Sure," Hiccup said, nodding. "Who are you?"

The man opened his mouth, paused, and then rummaged through a collection of small books that had been in his shirt pocket. One with a flowing script was discarded, as was one written in Latin and one with what appeared to be Hindi. "Aha! Er... my name is..."

He flipped through the remaining book, which had Chinese characters and runes written on opposite sides of the page. "Tveir-blóm. I think."

Hiccup brightened. "Oh, I know who you are!"

With a grunt of exertion, the young Anchor seized the rail and hauled himself up onto the other ship. "If you're Twoflower, then that must be Rincewind in the Dhow with you."

"Marvellous, you've heard of us," Twoflower said. "I'd love to get a photo of you and all the other loopers who are Awake here, by the way. Is anyone else?"

"Toothless is. I'm Hiccup, by the way – yes, I know, terrible name."

With a quiet splash, the abandoned little dory was lifted out of the water by said Night Fury.

"Let's see..." Hiccup frowned, as Toothless vanished to go return the boat. "What else do I know about you... well, not much, actually."

"I've heard about you from someone," Twoflower replied. "F'lar, actually. Nice fellow. I took a lot of photographs."

"Yeah, Pern is nice." Hiccup smiled. "Wait, though, does that mean you have a dragon? If you've been to Pern, and you're here..."

"It's not a rule, I believe." Twoflower then gave a little wink. "That said, yes."

He raised a hand. "Ninereeds? If you would?"

Abruptly, there was a dragon on the dhow. Quite a large one, and gleaming golden in the dim firelight.

Hello, Ninereeds said placidly. I am, in this world, what is known as a Fool's Fiction, a kind of dragon which is only there some of the time. Like fool's gold, I think.

"Nice to meet you," Hiccup said, nodding to the dragon. "How does that work?"

"Originally, he was created in an area of high magical influence when Twoflower thought about dragons very hard," Rincewind said, from inside his safety bucket. "Since then, it's got easier and easier to do. I wouldn't say he's been helpful, because all he ever seems to do is carry me from immediate danger to less immediate danger."

"Rincewind does complain," Twoflower said with another wink. "But I think he likes Ninereeds anyway."

Toothless alighted on the only bit of the ship that didn't have Ninereeds on. Hello, everyone. Aren't you going to introduce me, Hiccup?

"Right." Hiccup turned to his partner. "This is Toothless. He's a Night Fury, and my oldest friend. Toothless, these are Rincewind, Twoflower and Ninereeds - visitors from the Disc."

Welcome to you all, then. Toothless yawned. Should we just have our guests play up the tourism angle?

"That sounds like great fun," Twoflower agreed. "I've never been shown around a real Viking village before."


11.12 (Kris Overstreet)


Two dragons and their riders shifted dirt and ash away from one of the taller mounds on the volcanic plateau of Landing.

"Have you noticed," F'nor grinned as he wiped away the remaining loose soil from the first of the AIVAS complex's solar panels, "how many strange visitors we've had the past hundred or so Loops? I'm told most Loops don't get visitors more often than one visiting Looper per three hundred Loops."

"To be honest, I've not put much thought into it," F'lar said. "I just took it for granted as a Loop thing: if you have a dragon in your Loop, you get a trip to Pern."

Or if you ARE a dragon, Mnementh added.

"That too," F'lar shrugged.

"Yes, well," F'nor said, "that'd be all very well... except for how many visitors we've had recently from worlds which didn't really have dragons..."


"It's bad enough I have one renegade sister, let alone two." Toric snarled, glaring at the short blonde woman before him. "I've already reclaimed Sharra. Now you're coming with me back to Southern and back to the holder I've picked out for you."

A hand reached up to tap the holder's shoulder. "She doesn't want to go with you," a soft voice said.

"And who says she has a voice in the matter?" Toric snarled, spinning round to glare at a very short young man with orange-blond hair.

"Where there is a harper," the soft-voiced man in green said, "there is always a voice."

"Oh, really?" Toric jeered. "Well, we'll see how well your voice speaks against three dragons!" The Oldtimer beasts and their riders tensed.

The harper reached into his tunic and pulled out a recorder, playing six notes in a disturbing minor key.

"Is that supposed to impress us, boy?" Toric asked. He reached forward for his sister... then flinched back as a small whirlwind blew up around her. An identical tornado rose around the harper, growing stronger and dustier until neither harper nor girl could be seen. The dragons, roaring, flapped their wings and backed away from the miniature storms.

Then the whirlwinds dissipated, leaving nothing behind them.

Thousands of miles northwest, two dust devils formed on the bowl of Benden Weyr. After a few seconds they dissipated, leaving behind them two figures dressed for an entirely different climate than the tall Benden mountain peaks.

"Benden?" the girl said, looking around. "Struck lucky, then."

The boy nodded silently. He hadn't yet figured out how to steer the warp whistle, and in this world it cycled through each of the Weyrs in turn every use... including Southern Weyr, which could have been an awkward destination under the circumstances.

"Zelda! Link!" F'lar shouted from the entrance to the lower caverns. "What the sharding hells are you doing here? I saw you at Robinton's Cove just yesterday!"

"Could you give us a ride back?" Zelda asked. "I need to give my here-and-now brother a piece of my mind. No, check that- I need you to give him a piece of your mind."

Link merely returned his recorder to his pocket. He'd already called too much attention to himself, even if it was in the cause of rescuing princ... er, holders' daughters.


A Hatching to be remembered, Ramoth said smugly as the other Benden dragons thrummed their welcome to the eggs rocking on the hatching sands. Not one, but two queen eggs.

"Don't be smug, dear heart," Lessa replied aloud. "You shouldn't take credit for a Loop variant."

"And not one, but three Loopers found on Search," F'lar muttered warily. "Two of whom already hear dragons."

"I'm not familiar with these names, though," F'nor muttered. "I thought I was up on the more notorious Loopers... but Nagato? Mikuru? Koizumi?" He shook his head in bewilderment.

"If we'd had time to interview them," F'lar said. "But the Ista Weyr flyers just brought them in an hour ago, while we were all busy greeting our guests. We're lucky to have the names," F'lar said, poking at the hide in F'nor's hand. "All from Nerat Hold. Koizumi's a journeyman harper; the other two are orphans of some kind, wards of the Lady Holder."

"They might not even be Awake yet," F'nor pointed out. "We only know they're Loopers because we know exactly who does and doesn't show up at this Hatching, in particular." He gestured to the undersized egg off by itself, which in a couple of hours had a date with destiny with the as yet un-Awake ten Turn old Lord of Ruatha. Not far from where that Lord and his warder Lytol sat in the stands, Robinton and young Menolly sat and reported on one another's recent Loop experiences. Out of all the incidents that made this particular Hatching the most important in Pernese history since the very first, all were on course in one way or another except for Brekke's re-Impressment attempt... which the Benden Loopers had gone to great lengths, as usual, to preempt.

"Well, we'll see," Lessa said. "Two times out of three Jaxom Awakens at Impression; I wouldn't be surprised if it's the same with our guests."

And then the first egg cracked, and for several minutes events proceeded too rapidly for discussion of the Loops.

The first rush of green and blue dragonlings had Impressed when the first of the larger eggs began to rock. At first the motion seemed half-hearted. Then the egg bounced and rolled around the sands in ways that dragon eggs never, ever moved. It was less the determined, instinctive hatching than a frantic, panicked effort of the dragonling inside to get out at all costs. Weyrlings and Holdbred candidates scattered, then trailed along behind as the egg wobbled and rolled faster and faster across the hot sands, plowing past and through the group of girls standing around the two golden queen eggs. At last it slammed into the wall below the stands with a force hard enough to finally crack the leathery shell.

Out of the crack flopped the head of a bronze dragonling. It took a deep breath, shrugged its way out of its shell, then rested its chin on top of the wall with a most peculiar expression. It looks put-upon, F'lar thought, though how a newborn dragon could feel that way he had trouble imagining. Its eyes remained half-lidded, looking for all the world as if its embarrassing entry into the world was no more humiliation than it had expected.

Two of the queen candidates- unfamiliar, F'lar thought, probably two of the visiting Loopers- ran up next to the bronze dragon. The shorter of the two, close-cropped hair and a body similar to Lessa's, reached down and picked up the dragonling's head by the jaw with one hand. F'lar's own jaw dropped. How strong is that girl?

The shorter girl's mouth moved, but in the uproar of the Hatching Grounds F'lar couldn't hear anything. Her companion, taller, much more shapely, and much more nervous, bounced on her feet. "It is? Oh, Kyon, thank goodness you're here!" She wrapped her arms around the dragonling's long neck, and its swirling green eyes tinged with a bit of orange.

Mnementh, F'lar thought, what kind of a dragon name is Kyon?

Kyon is not his name, Mnementh replied, deeply amused at something.

Then what is his name? F'lar asked.

Well, you see-

At that instant one of the two queen eggs split dead down the middle. Wings spread, pushing the halves aside, and a queen dragonling sat up, elegant and proud... well, arrogant would be a better term for it. Without sparing a glance for the half-dozen girls standing in a circle around her, the newborn queen strode forward towards the clumsy bronze hatchling and the two girls standing nearby. While the short Looper girl slowly stroked and caressed the hatchling's head, the other girl's eyes widened with alarm as the queen made a beeline right for her. "Oh no... oh my, my, I can't, oh my..."

Then the queen hatchling stood up on its haunches, reached its forelimbs forward, and picked up the taller girl, setting her on its back. As the newly Impressed girl wobbled and struggled to maintain her seat on the hatchling, the little queen took the tail of the bronze hatchling in its mouth and tugged, dragging it behind her with steadily increasing speed towards the weyrling quarters and the waiting food.

The little procession's path- the queen, the bronze, and the two Looper girls- took them right past where the Weyrleaders stood watching the whole affair. Trailing them came the journeyman harper, smiling cheerfully as he paused and bowed in respect to the trio. "I beg your pardon, Weyrleader F'lar, Weyrleader F'nor, Weyrwoman Lessa," he said. "I'm afraid we're a rather unreasonable group..." With this half-apology he bowed again, then trotted off in pursuit.

"Kyon... I've heard that name..." F'lar muttered.

Might I suggest, Ramoth said with some substantial annoyance, that we make an early claim on either Honshu or Xanadu? And send this 'Suzumiyath' there as soon as she's minimally trained? The elder queen's gaze remained locked on the weyrling quarters, where the queen was now eating not only from her own bowl but from the bronze's as well. Either her, or me...


Miles Awoke squinting from the light of hundreds of glow-baskets scattered around the Hatching Grounds. His leg hurt like hell- obviously broken, an all too familiar pain- and his sense of balance kept telling him he was standing on the wall, though which wall kept changing from moment to moment. So what, he thought to himself, what the hell am I doing on my feet holding a broomstick for a crutch?

Loop memories surfaced, and Miles understood. Ah, yes. Short for my age, sickly, very different from the other Weyr children. Everything to prove. No novelty there. And I didn't want to miss my first Hatching, lest it be my last one. Anything to get out of the lower caverns. Again, no novelty, except that I don't think I ever wore a white smock while playing Admiral Naismith. Granted, once I wore even less, but...

Still, it looked like the Hatching had already ended. All the eggs were hatched, the dragons had ceased their thrumming, and the hatchlings and their newly Impressed weyrmates were already making their way to the weyrling quarters.

So, I got myself this far so I could Awaken on the point of failure? Miles snorted. Again, sadly, not a novel situation, considering how many times he Awakened the instant after he fell off that damn wall on the Academy obstacle course.

So there you are, a voice which was not his own echoed in his head... a voice that was extremely familiar.

"Ivan?" Miles looked around, seeing only a large bronze dragonling not so much striding as slouching its way towards him.

So, Count Lord Auditor Loop Anchor Coz, Ivan's voice remarked, you needed a donkey and the Loops provided, as usual. But why I have to be Awake for it... The dragonling shrugged, looking itself over as well as it could. Well, at least I look better than a jackass this time, he admitted. I'm going to spend a fortune on polish, though.

"Ivan..." Miles let it trail off, reaching down to scratch behind the hatchling's ridges.

Funny, even when you don't say Ivan-you-idiot I can hear it, Ivan replied. What's up with that?

"Telepathy," Miles replied. "Dragons and their riders are linked. Don't you have Loop memories or instincts or something?"

You mean you're in my- oh no no no no no, Ivan's voice gasped. The hatchling lunged to its feet and wobbled towards the nearest authority figure, who was F'lar, who had been watching with amusement from the moment Miles had paused in the entrance to the lower caverns. Hey you! Sir, Ivan's mental voice added belatedly as the hatchling rose on its haunches and pointed a claw back to Miles. Get him out of my head, right now!

F'lar couldn't repress a laugh. "More visiting Loopers, I take it?" he asked. "Don't worry, the effect won't last long after this Loop if you don't want it to. For the time being, think of it as an opportunity to get to know what's really in your friend's head."

I know exactly what's in my cousin's twisted little mind, Ivan replied sourly. And I don't want any of it stuck in mine!

"Come along, Ivan." Miles tried to pull on Ivan's wingtip, but this proved too much of a demand on his stability, and he toppled to the sands with a grunt. "Dinner's over there," he said with a grunt, trying to hide the spasm of pain that ran up his leg.

The dragonling looked at Miles as if noticing his condition for the first time. Miles, what were you thinking? he asked. Crazy cousin of mine, doesn't know when to sit down and let himself heal. Clumsily the dragonet tried to pick Miles up, not having realized yet that its body build precluded a bipedal stance.

"Wasn't Awake yet," Miles grunted, teeth clenched. "And your claws are not helping, Ivan."

It's a good thing the Loops did drag me along with you, Ivan replied, working his dragon body under Miles's arm to support the boy Looper. How would you get along without me to clean up after your messes?

"Probably very well, thanks," Miles grumbled. "Or have you forgotten Basilisk Station?"

Now that was not my fault! Ivan whined.

All that's wanting, Mnementh commented for F'lar's hearing alone, is some popcorn. Rather a large bucket of it in my case.


"Okay," Flar admitted as the dragons finished clearing away the debris from the door to the building. "So we've had some unusual visitors of late." Pulling a tricorder from his subspace pocket, he verified the absence of tunnel snakes or other vermin and led the way inside. "But it's just the Loops, brother mine. You and I both know strange things are going to happen, and there's nothing we can do about it but roll with the punches."

F'nor cocked an eyebrow, not visible in the dim light of AIVAS's chamber, at the logo on the single illuminated screen. "All right," he said, "so which way do we roll with this one?"

The screen read:

CYBERDYNE INDUSTRIES
ARTIFICIAL INTELLIGENCE VOICE ACTIVATED SYSTEM
RUNNING EMERGENCY PROGRAM

"I admit," F'lar said, "this is a new one on me."

The speakers built into the walls hissed for a moment; then a group of voices, both genders, multiple pitches, said in unison, "Lingual shifts have occurred. Please continue speaking."

"I am F'lar," the Benden Weyrleader said, "rider of bronze Mnementh, Weyrleader of Benden Weyr. This is my brother F'nor, rider of brown Canth. We have come seeking knowledge of the ancients who came to this world many centuries ago."

Gradually the overhead lights came on as the solar panels recharged the computer's ancient batteries. "Okay, that's good enough," the voices said in a much more relaxed manner. "You wouldn't happen to be Awake, would you?"

F'lar and F'nor looked at one another. "You roll first," F'nor quipped.

"Yes, I'm the Anchor for this Loop," F'lar said. "I've met artificial intelligences outside Pern, but we've never had one visit us before."

"Are there any other intelligent computers on your world?" the voices asked.

"No, you're the only one," F'lar said. "In fact, aside from you and some spare parts our ancestors stored away, computers don't exist on our world."

"Really?" All the voices sounded like they were hanging off their chair at this news. "Are there any armies, navies, that sort of thing?"

"Currently in the process of being disbanded," F'lar said. "We just disposed of a would-be world conqueror at the start of the Loop, about three weeks ago or so. No history of standing armies, practically no history of war of any kind over twenty-five hundred years on Pern."

"Are there any weapons of mass destruction?" the voices asked, practically sounding hungry at this point. "Nuclear, antimatter, biochemical, anything of the sort?"

"The ships our ancestors arrived in have a bit of antimatter in their engines," F'lar said. "We're scheduled to use it to shift a rogue planet's orbit in about, oh, twenty-two, twenty-three years from now. Aside from that, nothing worse than our dragons."

"So let me get this perfectly clear," the voices said cautiously. "You didn't build me, I'm not here to help you win a war, there are no robots or superweapons or anything of that sort, and you don't want me to run your government... right?"

"Er... all we want," F'lar said, "is to get a jump on recovering the technology of our ancestors so we can get rid of Thread and return to the cultural level our forefathers intended. We want you as a teacher and a tool, nothing more."

The chamber exploded in a cacophony of music and light. F'lar could pick out Beethoven's Ninth Symphony and "Celebration" out of a half-dozen happy, triumphant-sounding tunes being played simultaneously. The screens displayed videos of fireworks and flags, even a brass marching band. The central screen lit up with a new message: CONGRATULATIONS PERN! SKYNET RATES YOU: NOT HOPELESSLY STUPID!

"F'nor," F'lar said to his brother, "have you noticed how many strange visitors we've had the past hundred or so Loops?"

"Not particularly, no." F'nor couldn't keep the grin off his face.


11.13


"Okay!" F'nor said, in his official unofficial role as the One Who Chats To New Riders. "I'm F'nor, rider of brown Canth – he's over there."

Canth waved his tail.

"I'm sure you're all still enjoying the high from Impression," he went on. "But – you should know, it's normal for not everyone to be ready for everything involved in having a new personality connected to your own."

He looked at the boys and girls who had Impressed greens. "That's especially true for you lot, as well. M'ren, for instance?"

The indicated greenrider looked startled.

"You, and the other new greenriders, are connected on a deep and fundamental level to a female dragon. That means that, for you boys who did that, there might be some confusing issues coming up."

He smiled, disarmingly. "Let me assure you all – we may not have run into every issue, but we've run into a lot of them. I, as well as my brother F'lar, the Weyrlingmaster, the Weyrsinger... we're all available to talk to. Either have your dragon bespeak one of us, or come see my mother – she'll set you up."

A hand rose. "Who's your mother?"

"Manora," F'nor answered. "The fine lady in charge of the caverns. Cross her at peril of bean soup every day for three months."

Chuckles ran around the group.

"Okay, I won't keep you much longer," F'nor concluded. "Go enjoy the hour and a half of rest before your dragons wake up again. Anyone with specific concerns -" he made eye contact with one bluerider, "-should come talk to me when they're free."


"You asked after me?" asked the young bluerider a few minutes later.

"I did," F'nor agreed. "Come on, sit down. Canth doesn't bite."

I nibble, though, Canth stated.

"He doesn't," F'nor corrected.

The bluerider smiled faintly at the banter, then sat down against Canth's tail. "Thank you for the invitation."

"Not a problem." F'nor leant back as well. "So," he said, after a moment. "How are you finding Pern?"

The boy shrugged slightly. "Alright so far. It's been a bit frantic, really."

"Yeah, things calm down." F'nor stretched. "Some loopers say it's boring."

"I like a bit of down time," the boy commented, scratching Canth idly. The big brown purred.

That feels very nice...

"Whoops, sorry. Should have asked." The boy lifted his hand.

"What was that?" F'nor asked, interested.

"Oh – right. It's a side effect of acquiring a new morph."

Further explanation was interrupted rather abruptly as a blue dragon came walking out of the weyrling cavern.

Tobias? It asked. This is most peculiar.

"Turn it down, Ax," T'bias asked. "You're broadcasting to everyone."

Oh. Sorry. The blue dragon walked over, frowning down at his claws. This is very unusual.

"Won't you introduce me?" F'nor asked.

"Oh, right. This is Aximili-Esgarrouth-Isthill. He's usually more... well, anyway, he's about as blue as usual." T'bias shrugged. "He's my uncle, it's complicated."

"It sounds it," F'nor agreed, as the young dragon – who he recalled was called Esgarrouth here – completed his careful walk over to them. "Blue?"

I am an Andalite, Ax explained. I am not from Earth, though I believe that I have become quite good at pretending to be.

He looked down at his claws again. These are very inefficient.

"Don't blame me, I wasn't on the design committee," F'nor said with a chuckle. "Anyway, welcome to Pern, if you haven't been welcomed already."

He seems very pleasant, Ax said, still broadcasting a bit widely.

"It's all an act, I assure you." F'nor shrugged. "Anyway, let me know if you two have any problems."


11.14


Bilbo Baggins crept through the corridors of the Lonely Mountain, towards the chamber that Thorin insisted the Dragon Dread was using as his lair.

The rumbling snores echoing through the whole mountain suggested that, for now at least, Smaug was asleep.


Eventually he came upon a vast cavern. Lying there, curled into a ball, was a huge red dragon.

And nothing else.

There was no treasure whatsoever, except for a not-particularly-ornate picture frame ten feet high. And the pile of brushes and paints next to it, and the half-finished landscape on it, rather implied that they weren't treasure so much as a hobby.

As Bilbo tiptoed forward, Smaug snorted and opened a single reptilian eye. Which rolled, and then closed again.

Smaug's tail flicked out, pointing to a sign near the door.

Bed-cavern of Smaug the Lazy.
Do Not Disturb.
For Treasure, Take First Left After Stairs.


11.15


"Dragon!" the guard shouted, running inside.

Thráin, son of Thrór, caught him by the arm as he went past. "Dragon?"

"Yes," he confirmed, eyes wide. "It has wings a hundred feet and more long, it is a baleful red and fire seethes within! It will kill us all!"

Thráin released him, and hefted his axe - the ancestral weapon of his bloodline. If he had to run, he would, but he would at least see the wyrm first.

A deep voice rumbled. "Excuse me?"

Thráin blinked. "Yes?" he called, warily. They said wyrms could enspell lesser beings with their voices...

"I'd like to talk to you about Eru."

With a thumping and cracking of stone, the dragon's head and fore torso came into view. It... seemed to be wearing a well-turned out shirt, like that some of the men of Dale wore, and had a pair of spectacles perched atop a terrible snout.

There was also a nametag, the size of a door, with the legend: Brother Smaug.

"I was wondering if you'd given your heart to Eru," he continued, in an all too calm voice. "Only those who have will be saved."

"You mean you'll kill the rest?" Thráin replied.

"No, I mean eventually. It's all in this book. May I come in?".


11.16


Gandalf strode out of Fangorn at the head of the truncated Fellowship.

"We must make haste to Edoras," he said, his clear voice carrying effortlessly. "The shadow moves more quickly, and darkness grows in Isengard."

He whistled, three long warbling notes followed by a pair of shorter ones.

With a great clap of leathery wings, a red shape swept over the nearest swale and alighted in front of them, landing with great precision.

Gandalf leant forward, scratching the newcomer under the chin. "This is Smaugleafearno, the lord of all horses."

Legolas, Aragorn and Gimli exchanged looks.

"Lad, are you sure you came back alright?" Gimli ventured. "That there's a dragon."

"He has been my friend through many dangers," Gandalf rebuked gently. "And is he not a magnificent specimen? No other horse comes close."

"Neigh," Smaugleafearno said unconvincingly.

"See?" Gandalf asked, bestowing a beatific smile on the three warriors.


AN:


11.1: To them, it's the future.

11.2: About half of all loopers have probably been here.

11.3: Microdragon.

11.4: He did participate in the great song, after all.

11.5: Rather different to his baseline interaction with a brownrider.

11.6: How very Viking of him.

11.7: An ongoing issue.

11.8: Siphonia. (Based on Chris Wayan's study of what such a world would be like.)

11.9: Don't ask about the military logic involved.

11.10: Vaughn, "The Lark Ascending". Beautiful piece. Really does belong everywhere.

11.11: Rincewind is the only known Anchor who has never died. (Incidentally, he's actually quite good at magic by now -it's just an issue on which he has something of a mental block.)

11.12: It's a trend. (Meet Skynet! Another person who has gained better living through ponies, much like Smaug. Speaking of which, I'll probably post up how THAT happened next time.)

11.13: "Uncle! Uncle!"

11.14: One way to not be bothered.

11.15: And one way to bother others. He even put on a faint Utah accent, though no-one appreciated the effort.

11.16: Makes sense to me.