"I can't get these symbols!"

Milda was losing patience. Nolen could see that. Then again, this was Milda she was teaching. The fifteen year-old had never really had much patience, or even eagerness, to learn the ancient language. Then again, you couldn't expect her to; Nolen was teaching her its glyphs at the same time, these being quite different from her usual runic alphabet.

"Here, I'll write something and you try and say them," the short, middle-aged woman invited encouragingly, crossing out what she had previously written and replacing it with the ancient language, human style. One had to be encouraging if one knew the ancient language, the dwarven language, the Urgal language and the human language and planned to teach it to young ones.

"All right, but I don't think I'll get it." Milda paused, then slapped herself on the forehead. "What am I thinking? Of course I'll get it – according to any Varden member you ask, you can do anything if you try hard enough. And of course that's right! I'm a Varden, so I've got to do that, you know! I've got to at least try and try and be better at this"

Reassured by her enthusiasm, Nolen smiled and slid over the thin sheaf of parchment. "All right, then. Read this."

Chewing her lip, Milda bent over the paper and read slowly. "Atra…theirra…kalfis…waíse…heill!" Milda paused after the reading, looking up at the intelligent Nolen. "Let their calves be healed?"

"You don't know enough words of the ancient language that I was able to make a, er, less odd sentence with." The brunette woman shrugged, then gestured to the sheaf of parchment. "Do you want me to teach you more?"

Milda nodded eagerly, saying, "Well, look at it this way. If I don't want to learn, how am I ever going to become a Rider? It wouldn't make sense – and that's all I need to say."

Nolen laughed as she bent over the paper with the stub of charcoal she'd been using clutched tight in her hand. "You were a Dragon Rider since Iganì first hatched for you." She chuckled, scrawling a few runes in a script, neat and flowing in spite of the weak stub of her writing tool. "At least, that's what I heard tell about."

"Well, you got it right," observed Milda diligently, pointing to the line of runes that were busy filling up the page under Nolen's practiced hand. "What do those say?"

"Patience, Milda." Nolen blew a strand of chestnut-and-blond out of her face as, with a few deft, skilful strokes, she finished scribbling. "You need patience, Mida, and CONSTANT VIGILENCE!"

The last statement came to an accented bark at the end; Milda, without even a crescendo to have warned her, backed up quickly on her palms and feet. With this crablike movement, she stared at her teacher with dazed gray eyes. "I don't get it," she noted instantly, "what's botherin' you? Why were y'yellin' at me? Y' seemed fine a few seconds ago, y'know, m'am." She rubbed a hand along her sweaty brow as she ploughed on with her speech. "Like, Miss, I didn' think ya would…er…erupt like ya did just now, y'see." She paused, fiddling with a strand of her black locks. "I'm not that incompetent, y'know, despite any o' th'weird feelin's y'may b'havin' 'bout me."

When Nolen spoke again, her voice was calm, controlled, doing anything but indicating her previous shout. "What's with the dialect?" she inquired as a slightly scared Milda – feeling strange and yet not very scared – crab-walked back to her side.

"I– I do that when I'm nervous," explained Milda with a chuckle that was just a tad tentative. "No one knows why I do that, but that's how it is." She paused, for once thinking about her words before she spoke. "And you? I don't understand what caused you to shout the way you did, ma'am."

"One must have patience and constant vigilance to teach, and one must have patience and constant vigilance to be taught. It's important that you're aware of that, Milda, and more importantly that you can keep in mind these two endearing qualities."

Milda didn't get it. "It still doesn't make much sense why you yelled," she said, trying to reason things out.

The ghost of a smile passed on Nolen's lips. "That, Milda, was merely to induce the symptoms of fear that it did in you."

"Definition?"

"It was a joke," said Nolen, her grin now stretching from ear to ear.

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

"What did you learn today, Mil?" Jarsha asked excitedly.

Milda glanced at her younger friend, a smile curling her features as his own face was basked in the glowing light of curious happiness. "Lots of stuff, Jar," – aw, it was so fun to annoy him. When he sent her a slightly pained look, she repaired the matter. "Lots of stuff, Jarsha," she answered in its place, running a hand through her mess of hair to straighten it. "Many, many words in the ancient language," she intoned, dropping her voice a few pitches for a theatrical, dramatic effect. "Many words that the likes of your meagre race would not understand."

Jarsha's grin became more pronounced. "Like what?"

Milda shook her hair so that it returned to its usual mop and began reeling off at a pace that was too fast for her fingers to count. "Garjzla, deloi, moi, jierda, thrysta, yawë, edoc'sil…"

Jarsha stood dumbstruck with awe, eyes flashing like two brown beacons in the midmorning light. "What do they mean?" he enquired, stopping in his tracks so that he could look her full in the face. "Tell me?"

Milda smiled, dropped down to the floor, and began to recite.