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

I am so sorry for how late this is, my beta reader and I both kinda forgot about it for awhile. I still haven't written the fourth chapter, but I'm hoping to get back to writing soon. I'm in college now, and while I don't think I'll have any lack of time for writing, it may be a bit of a problem getting it onto the computer, so bear with me, please.)

Who the Dragon Heeds

Chapter Three-The Hatching Feast

The Post-Hatching Feast was inevitably a celebration to be remembered. Lots of good food, good music (provided by harpers invited for the feast), and the prospect of new dragons for the Weyr put just about everyone in a good mood. Even the candidates who had not Impressed, always invited to the feast anyway, often found their spirits lifted.

The newly-Impressed riders' first duty was to feed their dragons and then get them into the weyrling barracks to sleep. After that, they were allowed to join the feast. The weyrling barracks were a great deal larger than the candidate barracks, to accommodate quickly growing dragons, and there were raised wooden platforms beside each weyrlings' bed, to serve as a bed for the dragon during their stay there.

Syderi was almost reluctant to leave Feyth alone in her bed, even though the gold was curled up comfortably and fast asleep. Still, she changed quickly into her dress, (it was still beautiful, but could she help it if she was preoccupied?) and made her way to the Great Hall, which would no doubt be where all the riders and guests would be gathered.

The Great Hall had been lavishly decorated for the occasion, and extra tables brought in to accommodate all the guests that had filled it to overcrowding. Even so, everyone seemed to be having a good time, eating, dancing, or mingling with each other and the new riders.

Syderi quickly sought out Coyota and Nystai, both looking radiant in their Feast Gowns (or perhaps it was because they were still basking in the after-effects of Impression). Coyota spotted her entrance first. "Syderi!" She waved her over with one hand, the other grasping a glass of red wine.

Coyota smiled broadly at her friend. "Congratulations on Impressing the gold, by the way."

"Thanks." Syderi smiled. "What's yours named?"

"Oririth, and I wouldn't trade her for anything," Coyota said with another wide grin.

"Mine's Polaenth," Nystai spoke up with a smile.

"Coyota!" They heard a shout, and the weyrbred girl was caught up in a hug from a burly older man with cropped, dark brown hair.

"Ack! W'ulf, put me down!" Coyota yelped, clearly irritated with the man. He did so, and she set down her cup on the nearest table before grumbling, "you almost made me spill wine on my new dress, and then where would I have been?"

"In your room, picking out one of your other numerous dresses, no doubt," the rider replied without missing a beat. He picked up her discarded wine glass, raised it in the direction of the girls in a toast, and drained it. "You, my dear cousin, have just made me fifteen marks richer. I congratulate you on Impressing a green."

Coyota looked far from pleased. "What, you didn't expect me to Impress the gold?"

W'ulf rolled his eyes. "But you Impressed a lovely green. Aren't you happy with that?"

"Of course I am, I love her. But you're family, you're supposed to have more faith in me than that," Coyota scowled.

"Oh, come on now, Coyota. You're being contrary just for the sake of being so. I have to say it was rather obvious what you'd Impress." Syderi privately agreed with him, and he shrugged contemplatingly. "That's the way with Hatchings. Some Impressions you can see coming a mile away, others will downright surprise you. For example, I lost five marks on Kelthere Impressing bronze. Quite disappointing, that. If anyone Impressed, I'd have thought it'd be him."

Syderi's stomach turned at the news. "Kelthere didn't Impress?" Coyota and Nystai looked almost as surprised as she felt.

"No. Apparently he collapsed at the end. The heat does that to some people. He should be fine now, though," he reassured them, seeing the concerned looks on their faces. "Well, I've got to go. Other people to see, you know how it is. Coyota, your mother's looking for you. Wants to coo and fuss over you, I suspect, then show you off to all her friends," he said with a wink to Coyota.

Coyota scowled. "Shards! Oh well, I suppose I might as well go and get it over with. Bye, Syderi, Nystai." She walked off to find the rest of her family. W'ulf nodded to Nystai, "Greenrider," then did a slight bow for Syderi, "Goldrider."

Syderi blinked as he walked off, still unused to the title. She didn't have long to dwell on it, or Kelthere, because another couple of riders were approaching.

She didn't recognize them straight off, though she felt she should have. The woman was a few turns older than her, probably in her early twenties. She was more striking than pretty, but she had soft blond hair to her shoulders and bright blue eyes. Her companion was a ruggedly handsome man, tall and well-built, with dark brown hair and mesmerizing deep green eyes.

The woman greeted them with a smile. "Congratulations on your Impression. I'm the junior weyrwoman, Alerra; my dragon is gold Vesengarth."

Her companion spoke up as well, "And I'm B'nor, rider of bronze Zhayth. Likewise, congratulations." She wondered why she hadn't recognized at least the weyrwoman, and Syderi figured she must have been more preoccupied lately than she thought. "Syderi, my gold is Feyth."

Then Nystai replied with her name and dragon, but interrupted herself with a yawn. She blushed brightly, looking mortified at herself.

B'nor smiled and leaned forward conspiracally before telling her, "Don't worry, the first week's probably the worst. After that, you sort of figure out a routine, and classes get interesting, too." He winked at Nystai.

"Well, I've come to tell you that the Weyrleaders are on their way over here. They like to meet the new riders personally, especially since you're a goldrider," Alerra said, directing the last at Syderi. She smiled reassuringly. "Don't worry, Cheaden and G'sar are no one to be afraid of. Just treat them with respect and you should get along fine."

After exchanging a few more pleasantries, the gold and bronzeriders moved away, and Nystai sighed wistfully, staring after B'nor.

Privately, Syderi thought that the bronzerider seemed too much a careless charmer, but she figured it was none of her concern who Nystai developed a crush on. The new goldrider was beginning to get tired herself, but now she could see the Weyrleaders slowly making their way towards her, and steadied herself for a long night.

For turns, he had dreamed of this day. Dreamed of what it would be like, Impressing a bronze dragon, being surrounded by friends and admirers, with his family congratulating him on his success. Now that it was here, was it how he'd always thought it would be?

Yes, it was almost exactly the way he'd imagined it.

"Hah hah! That's my boy, Falkyr. I knew you'd Impress bronze! Didn't I say he'd Impress bronze this time around?" His father was the same big, blustery man as ever, already a cup and a half into his wine.

Falkyr's father had never appeared prouder of his oldest son, and with every reason; Falkyr had Impressed bronze, the only one in the clutch, and in doing so had surpassed even his father, a brownrider.

"Don't forget, it's F'kyr now, Father," the new bronzerider said, thinking of his slumbering dragon with a smile. And for once it was a true smile, not his normal sarcastic grin or smirk.

His father guffawed. "Right you are, lad. F'kyr."

F'kyr. He'd spent years trying to get to where he was today, ever since he'd been old enough to stand at the dragon clutch. And stand he had, many times, for many different clutches. Kelthere wasn't the only one who'd had one last chance to Impress; F'kyr's twentieth birthday was only four months away. He'd almost begun to think he wouldn't Impress at all, but for the constant support of his family and his own stubborn single-mindedness. And finally, it had paid off. A wonderful bronze dragon had chosen him, just as he'd always known, somehow. He could barely keep his grin off his face even now.

F'kyr's attention was drawn toward a group nearby celebrating loudly at their own table; new dragonriders like him, and they were faces he recognized. They were older candidates like himself, who had finally Impressed, but he was surprised to see that one of them was missing.

Kelthere approached the table, his back hunched and head down as though to hide his face. Even from his own table, F'kyr could tell that Kelthere's face was sickly pale, and over his father's cry for more wine for a toast, he could hear the worried inquiries of the other new weyrlings.

"Kelthere!" That would be the bluerider, Danak, or whatever his name was now.

"Are you okay?" a dark-haired girl asked worriedly, standing beside the other member of the group, Daradox-rider of a brown now, or so F'kyr had heard.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Kelthere replied with a small smile. "I just, the heat got to me. Happens more often than you'd think." He looked all of his friends over, the look in his eyes virtually unreadable. "So, I guess you all Impressed, huh?"

Danak only nodded, while the other two spoke up. "Brown Coendeth. I guess that makes me D'dox now." He said with a lopsided grin.

"And..." Kelthere turned his head to the girl, a blank look on his face.

"I'm Fylippa." She said as an introduction. "Green Asatarth."

Kelthere gave another small, sad smile. "Congratulations, you guys. Really, I'm happy for you."

"Kelthere-" Danak began, but the other one never let him finish.

"I'm fine!" It was almost a shout. Kelthere sighed. "Danak-D'nak." He corrected himself, biting his lip. "I'll...see you around, I guess." He seemed to ignore the others' protests as he strode away again.

Whether D'nak was frustrated with Kelthere or himself, F'kyr didn't know, but D'nak's ire was turned in his direction when the bluerider noticed him watching them. F'kyr turned away quickly, not in the mood for a confrontation, but to no avail.

"What do you want? Come over to gloat at us about your bronze?" D'nak scowled.

Feeling his anger rise at the perceived insult, F'kyr rose from his seat, sneering. "Little blueriders shouldn't talk so to their betters."

D'nak narrowed his eyes and gave a disbelieving snort. "Only because you practically took that bronze from under Manoric's nose," he grumbled, turning away. F'kyr had the impression he wasn't actually supposed to hear that.

He blinked, casting his mind back to the memory of the Hatching. Had Manoric been there by the bronze? F'kyr hadn't paid attention to anything around him then; once he locked eyes with Ievath, all he was concerned with was pushing his way through the crowd of hopeful candidates to get to him. He didn't notice or care who was around him or who he pushed aside; all that mattered was Ievath.

"What's going on here?" A rough, deep voice asked from behind them. F'kyr turned to see an extremely large, heavily-muscled man, face marred by a long, ragged scar on the side of his face. Staring down at them with a scowl, the man was a frightening giant. D'nak looked alarmed and wide-eyed from what F'kyr could see of him, and even F'kyr had to crane his neck up to look the stranger in the eye. "Nothing, sir," F'kyr's voice wavered only a little, he was pleased to discover, "Just a little disagreement. I think we're finished here."

The man harrumphed, "It had better be. You're new riders, aren't ye?" The man squinted down at them. "Name's K'rul, an' I'm yer Weyrlingmaster, so ye'd better watch yerselves around me."

They all muttered "Yes sirs" obediently, none of them wanting to be singled out by this rider.

"Ye'd better be getting to bed anyway. Ye'll have yer work cut out for ye tomorrow, ye'll want to get all the sleep ye can," the gruff Weyrlingmaster said; all the weyrlings disappeared.

"And it starts," F'kyr muttered under his breath as he made his way to the weyrling barracks.

(A/N: About W'ulf...I'm sorry, I couldn't resist!)