Chapter 2

The Hatching

T'kel awoke to a familiar grinding and whirring noise. Jumping out of his cot, he approached the location the strange man's blue box had been located previously. Before his eyes, the TARDIS materialized, and out stepped his strange friend.

"Morning!" The Doctor had a silly grin plastered across his face, and he looked around the blue rider's weyr. Naith was resting on his stone couch like before, and the only real difference was that T'kel was dressed in sleepwear.

"Looks like you wasted no time getting here."

"I couldn't be late for Ellira's impression! That would make me a terrible person!"

T'kel chuckled, "Well, I should get ready myself."

The Doctor decided to let T'kel proceed with his morning duties, and moseyed over towards the ledge. Looking over towards the Weyr Bowl, the Doctor thought, I wonder where N'lor is…

Inside his mind, he heard a consciousness reply, We're nearby. Do you need a lift?

The Doctor's eyes widened—something just communicated telepathically with him. Presumably it was Llieraneth, since its voice and manner of speaking were completely different than N'lor's. Brows furrowed in confusion, the Doctor finally replied, Please. Is this Llieraneth?

Yes.

Moments later, the large bronze dragon landed before him, lowering himself so that the Doctor could mount. Climbing upon Llieraneth's back, N'lor spoke, "How did you do that?"

"Do what?"

"Speak to Llieraneth."

"Uhh… I don't know. Is that abnormal?"

N'lor shook his head, "Only a dragon's rider can communicate to them."

The Doctor's brows furrowed, "Hmm."

Disregarding the strangeness of the Doctor, N'lor smiled, "So, were you planning to get breakfast?"

Shaking his head, the Doctor replied, "No, no. I was just going to check up on Ellira, and perhaps wander around some. Would the Weyr have any sort of old records?"

"Most of the old records are worn, but there is a room that contains skins. I could take you there after we see Ellira if you'd like."

Llieraneth made his descent towards the Weyr Bowl, landing before the barracks. The Doctor dismounted, and made his way over towards the entrance. N'lor got off after, and hurried over to speak with the green rider, L'ran.

"Hey, L'ran!"

The tall, brown haired rider greeted the boy with a smile, "Hello!"

"The Doctor and I are here to check up on Ellira, is she doing alright?"

L'ran nodded, "Ellira was exhausted when she came in, but since this morning she's been playing around with the boys."

The Doctor beamed, "Could we see her?"

L'ran frowned slightly, "They're actually getting ready for the hatching… I'm sorry."

Nodding the Doctor smiled, "It's alright. I'm just glad she's doing well."

The pair waved goodbye to the green rider, and made their way over towards the lower caverns. N'lor patted Llieraneth on the side of his neck before letting his dragon know that he'd be busy. Taking off with a powerful push of his hind-legs, the bronze dragon rode the thermals to the top of the Weyr.

Trekking across the hot sands, they arrived at the lower caverns. Thankfully, they took a path that was separate from the intimidating staircase that lead to the dining hall.

"Beware of tunnel snakes."

Raising an eyebrow, the Doctor carefully followed N'lor, keeping an eye on the ground in the event a snake passed them by.

They continued into the depths of the tunnels, and it became apparent very quickly that this portion had been unused for centuries.

Taking a few items from his pocket, N'lor opened his palm to expose a very bright light source. The Doctor looked over at the boy's hand curiously, "What is that!"

N'lor smiled, "They're glows."

"May I take a look?"

Nodding, N'lor handed one of the orbs over to the Doctor. Taking it in his hand, the Doctor examined it. It was some sort of luminous fungus. They were exceedingly bright for their small size.

"Doctor!" N'lor shouted out terrified.

"What is i—" The Doctor cut himself off when his gaze focused upon a rather large creature, about four feet long, in front of them. The creature had crawled out of a crack in the stone wall, recognizing their presence. It then bared its fangs, and made its way down, its six legs moving swiftly while keeping its body low to the ground.

"W-What is that!" Upon the Doctor's visage was a sort of confused terror.

"T-That's a tunnel snake." Reaching in his pocket, N'lor realized regretfully that he had forgotten his hunting knife, "R-Run!"

"How is that a snake! It has legs!" The Doctor stared at the creature incredulously for a few moments before running after N'lor, "Why would you tell me to look out for snakes! That's not a snake!"

"It is too a snake! Shards!" N'lor cursed under his breath, running as fast as he could, while hoping to tire out the tunnel snake before it caught up to them and ripped their flesh apart.

Tripping over a small rock, N'lor planted himself face-first into the dirt. Hearing a thud, the Doctor turned back and saw his friend before his feet, the tunnel snake quickly closing the distance between them. Taking out his sonic screwdriver, he pointed it towards the creature and activated it. Making a loud, unfamiliar buzzing noise, the tunnel snake turned around frightened, running back into the crevice from whence it came.

Looking up, N'lor noticed the Doctor was holding a rather curious device. Picking himself off the ground, he dusted the dirt from his riding gear, heaving a sigh of relief, "Thanks…"

The Doctor smiled, "No problem~"

"Mind if I ask what that is?"

"Oh? This?" He held up his sonic screwdriver proudly, "It's my sonic screwdriver!"

"That's a strange screwdriver."

The pair laughed, but ceased when a strange humming noise reverberated throughout the cavern.

It's starting. Llieraneth informed his rider as well as the Doctor that the hatching was about to commence.

"Shards! We'd better hurry!" Taking the lead, N'lor ran out of the lower caverns, and made his way towards the Hatching Grounds, the Doctor in tow.

In the passage, drudges were frantically refilling the glowbaskets with fresh glows, the movement of the glowing fungus causing weird shadows to dance about the walls. Finally, the pair made it to the end of the tunnel. The bright sunlight shone through an opening in the top of the cavern, hitting the Hatching Grounds and causing a harsh glare. In the distance, the Doctor could see the arena filling up with people.

Around the eggs, there was a loose semicircle of shoeless boys clad in white Candidate's robes. The queen coiled on the egg mound, protecting the golden egg, hissing and snarling, her faceted eyes awhirl with a red light. Standing a fair distance from the queen and her precious golden egg, there were a handful of girls clad in the same thin white cloth, their eyes on the large golden egg. The Doctor was able to pick out Ellira in the crowd—she was by far the youngest, and shortest of the group.

N'lor motioned for the Doctor to follow him up the stands. Towards the front, the Doctor saw T'kel, sitting patiently on his stone seat, awaiting the first egg to crack. The young bronze rider made his way towards their friend, pushing himself through crowds of people trying to take their place before the hatching began. Seating himself next to T'kel, the Doctor greeted his friend, "It looks like we just made it on time!"

"The hatching caught us all off guard—usually it starts at around noon." T'kel smiled at the Doctor briefly before focusing his gaze upon the Hatching Ground.

The children clad in white started to become agitated. The hot sands burned the soles of their feet, and they began shifting foot to foot.

Before them, the clutch of eggs started rocking back and forth, and upon their ledge, the bronze dragons watched, filling the chamber with a low hum. The reverberating hum was building slowly in power, like the sound of an oncoming squall.

With a loud plop, a mottled egg cracked suddenly and burst open, and a young bronze dragonet fell to the hot sand. The tiny creature cried, fumbling about, and the audience sighed in relief.

T'kel looked over towards the Doctor, smiling, "It's a good sign that the first dragon to hatch is bronze."

The Doctor's face twisted with curiosity, "I never asked—I take it bronze dragons are the strongest of the male dragons?"

T'kel nodded, "Yes. The hierarchy is queen, bronze, brown, blue, and green, in that order. Queens and greens are both female, the rest male."

"I see."

"Of course, each of the dragons have their purpose. For example, green dragons are the best at fighting thread. They're far more agile than any of the other colors, but they lack stamina, and need to be rotated out in shifts."

The bronze dragonet's glistening wet wings unfurled and began drying in the hot air. A few of the women in the stands shrieked with joy. Its multi-faceted eyes whirled, the bluish hue changing to green, and the dragonet stumbled decisively towards a boy.

"He says his name is Aroith!" The tall young boy cried triumphantly, and the crowd cheered. Approving the match, the bronze dragons' hum intensified. The new dragonrider led the staggering dragonet towards the ground-level exit where brown and green riders waited to escort the new weyrlings to their barracks.

Suddenly, several eggs broke open at once. Eyes that were previously on Aroith and his rider focused their gaze upon the Hatching Grounds. Crooning piteously, the dragonets clumsily made their way across the sand, searching the faces of the Candidates. Some seemed indecisive, while others knew exactly which child was for them.

A scream reached the Doctor's ears, and instantly his eyes focused upon the source of the noise. Upon the ground laid a mauled boy, his blood staining the sand beneath him. Immediately, the Doctor stood up from his seat and rushed down towards the piteous heap of a child. Both T'kel and N'lor called out for him, but he ignored their pleas.

Pained shrieks were replaced by pitiful sobs. Reaching the boy, the Doctor practically dove in the sand, taking his place by the child's side. Taking out his sonic screwdriver, he ran it over the boy's body to get a proper diagnosis. Having been mauled in the face and across his chest cavity, the gaping wounds poured blood everywhere. Thankfully, no vital organs were damaged in the process.

Furrowing his brows, the Doctor spoke, "I'm the Doctor; it'll be okay."

The boy nodded, choking on his own blood, "I-I'm Sjaranrir…"

"Okay, Sjaranrir, you'll have to tolerate the pain for a while longer, alright?"

Taking a needle and thread from his coat, the Doctor began stitching the boy's chest. A tiny green dragonet approached the pair, and Sjaranrir reached out weakly, and gently caressed the creature on its head.

"S-She says her name is Myth… s-she's so beautiful." The boy tried his hardest to speak, but his form still trembled in agony.

Raising a slight eyebrow, the Doctor looked over at the mewling dragonet, and smiled, I'll do my best to hurry. I'm sure you're starving.

The green dragonet's eyes whirled a bright blue, Thank you. I'm so hungry.

Closing the wound enough to slow the rate of blood loss significantly, the Doctor figured it was about time to help the boy and his newly impressed dragon leave. "Alright, Sjara—"

"I-It's S'ran now."

"Oh. Well then, S'ran, let's get you two out of here so little Myth can get something to eat.

I'm hungry.

"Yes, I know you're hungry that's why we're—"

I'm so hungry.

The Doctor heaved a defeated sigh. Bending down, he picked up the boy in his arms, and began walking for the exit, green Myth beside him. Looking down, the Doctor noticed that the child's blood was getting all over his nicely pressed suit and coat, and made a rather displeasured face, accompanied by a groan.

Finally making it to the Weyr Bowl after what seemed like an eternity (and a ruined suit later), S'ran was then taken from him by a kind brown rider. The other hatchlings were already being fed by their new companions, with some help from the senior riders.

Looking at the brown rider with a saddened expression, the Doctor spoke, "A dragonet mauled him during hatching…"

The rider nodded, "It's common. Unfortunate, but common." Noticing that his answer wasn't any consolation to the Doctor, he added, "The newly hatched dragonets are clumsy. S'ran was standing in the wrong place at the wrong time, that's all."

"I see. Well, take care of him please. His face still needs suturing."

The brown rider nodded, and the Doctor made his way back towards the Hatching Grounds. He would be mad at himself if he missed Ellira impressing.

S'ran weakly waved at the Doctor, "T-Thank you!"

Turning around, the Doctor smiled, "You're welcome! Take care of Myth… and take care of yourself!"

With a quickened pace, the Doctor returned to the Hatching Grounds in good time. Looking around, it appeared that more than half of the eggs had already hatched and impressed, though the golden egg still remained.

Taking his place by T'kel and N'lor, he watched as the children below paired off with their life mates. The humming of the bronze dragons—which the Doctor had managed to tune out previously—grew in intensity. The golden egg clutched in the claws of its mother began to shake violently. The large brooding dragon glared at the nearby female Candidates, her multi-faceted orbs whirling in annoyance.

A large crack appeared in the side of the egg, with smaller cracks splintered from its origin. The pointed nose of the dragonet burst through, and seconds later the tiny creature fell to the hot sands with a plop. Looking around, she stumbled towards the Candidates. Eyes awhirl with a bluish green hue, she unfurled her wings allowing her hide and sails to begin drying.

"She's magnificent…" The Doctor's eyes were focused upon the tiny dragonet's form; beside him N'lor stood up, crossing his fingers.

The golden dragonet wandered over towards the oldest girl there—she appeared roughly 20 turns old. The girl's visage was filled with joy, only to be replaced by disappointment moments later when the dragonet walked right past her. Looking each female over, the dragonet's eyes whirled a bright blue.

N'lor began clenching his fists in anticipation. T'kel was also on the edge of his seat, as were the rest of the spectators. The Doctor felt a lump in his stomach, he too felt incredibly nervous.

Making her way towards a girl in her mid teens, the tiny queen looked her up and down, deciding seconds later to move on. Approaching a girl of about 13 turns, the dragonet stared at her for what seemed like an eternity, before writing her off as well.

"Come on… come on!" N'lor could barely contain his eagerness.

Hardly taking a glance at the girl standing beside Ellira, the dragonet stumbled decisively towards the youngest Candidate. Peering up at the nervous young girl, the dragonet's consciousness filled her mind, My name is Tanith.

Ellira shrieked in joy, "H-Her n-name is Tanith!"

The crowd went wild, and N'lor screamed, pumping his fists excitedly in the air, "I knew you could do it!" Immediately after, N'lor grabbed the Doctor and squeezed him. The Doctor looked over at the young boy awkwardly, and it seemed like an eternity went by before he was released from his grasp.

On their rocky perch, the bronze dragons' hum intensified, approving the new pair. Picking up her new weyrmate, Ellira made her way towards the ground-level exit. N'lor immediately brushed passed the Doctor to chase after her, wishing to congratulate her in person.

There was a single egg left on the sands, however the spectators began clearing out of the stone arena anyway. It had been violently twitching for quite some time now, but not so much as a crack appeared on the glistening shell.

T'kel watched the egg for a few minutes before deciding that it was clearly a dud, and stood up to leave, "We should go congratulate Ellira on her impression."

"You go, I'll catch up."

Raising a slight eyebrow, T'kel left the stands, making his way towards the Weyr Bowl.

One of the senior dragonriders was tasked with clearing out the remaining Candidates from the Hatching Grounds. One of the children spoke up, "But there's still an egg left!"

"It's a dud. "

The children let out various disappointed groans, and followed the senior rider's lead out. The Doctor's brows furrowed—that egg was most certainly not a dud. It was still shaking; a clear indicator that the egg's contents were desperately fighting for its life.

Taking a life was wrong, and leaving the poor creature in its shell was the same as condemning it to death. With haste, the Doctor ran towards the empty Hatching Grounds. The bronze dragons, aside from N'lor's Llieraneth, along with the queen had just cleared out.

Approaching the egg, the Doctor whipped out his sonic screwdriver and began running a scan. It appeared the egg shell was unusually thick, and the dragonet inside wasn't strong enough to pierce its casing.

Kneeling beside the glistening egg, he began stabbing the shell with the butt of his screwdriver. Managing to crack the thick shell, he began frantically peeling it off, shard by shard. Finally, he reached the shell membrane. He violently tore at it with his nails, desperately trying to free the creature within.

The thrusting of a pointed snout startled him. The membrane fully tore, and a tiny dragonet plopped out. Its white skin glistened in the sunlight. There were hints of various colors—green, blue, brown and bronze—in his complexion, but were only visible if the light hit it in a certain way. The dragonet was tiny, significantly smaller than even a newly hatched green.

Unfurling its wings, the Doctor noticed that he could see right through its transparent wing sails. Looking up at the Doctor with adoring blue orbs, it finally regarded him, My name is Iryth.

Llieraneth trumpeted his approval before leaving his ledge. The Doctor stood there, staring at Iryth, joyful confusion across his visage. He then reached out to stroke the hatchling's skin. It was surprisingly smooth, and the tiny white dragonet chirped with delight.

Throughout his life, the Doctor had felt alone; as if no one in the universe understood him. In a moment, that all changed. The Doctor felt this unusual sensation of being together with Iryth. For the first time in a long time, the Doctor's plastered grin was genuine.

I'm hungry… Iryth let out a small piteous cry.

The Doctor could feel his own stomach ache, and wondered if the two truly shared that strong of a psychic bond. Brows furrowed, the Doctor crouched down and gently picked up the tiny dragonet, its skin still wet from being inside the egg. "Let's get you something to eat."

Arriving at the Weyr Bowl, the Doctor was shot several strange glances. One of them from T'kel, and the blue rider came over to greet him.

"That's a… rather unique dragon you have there."

The Doctor laughed, "Iryth says they're hungry." Pausing for a moment, the Doctor realized that he had used a gender-neutral pronoun. What gender was Iryth?

Neither.

Raising an eyebrow, the Doctor realized that the dragon had the ability to read his thoughts, or at the very least sense his feelings.

While the Doctor was busy contemplating trivial matters, T'kel had brought his tiny companion bowl of meat. "Don't let your dragon overeat."

Putting Iryth down, the dragonet immediately began devouring the decently-sized piece of meat, staining his white muzzle red. The Doctor watched as his weyrmate inhaled the meat in dangerously large chunks. "W-What are you doing! Chew!"

Chew?

"You know… teeth… mashing together to break your food up?"

Iryth looked up at the Doctor, eyes whirling blue in confusion. Getting on face level with his white dragonet, the Doctor opened his mouth and closed it in an exaggerated chewing motion. "You tear with your incisors," he pointed towards the front of his teeth, then opening his mouth wide, he stuck his finger towards the back, "and chew with your molars."

I will try. The tiny dragonet succeeded in executing the chewing method correctly, and then began polishing off his bowl. I'm still hungry.

The Doctor motioned at T'kel, and he brought another hunk of meat, which Iryth immediately began devouring.

"So what did you do, tear Iryth's eggshell open?"

The Doctor nodded.

"I see. Well, aside from its bizarre appearance, it seems perfectly healthy. "

Iryth crooned happily, and continued his meal. The Doctor then realized he had completely forgotten about Ellira. Looking around, he tried to find the small girl. After a few seconds of looking, a glint of gold captured his attention, and he immediately sprinted over.

"Ellira! I'm so sorry I'm late…"
Giggling, she gave the Doctor her best smile, "It's okay~ So, you're D'tor now?"

The Doctor's eyes widened, "No, no, no, no! That's just… weird. Please," Licking his lips nervously, a small frown played across his visage, "don't ever call me that again…"

T'kel was about to walk over and scold the Doctor for leaving his dragonet when he overheard their exchange, "The Doctor doesn't have a normally-colored dragon, and as such I doubt he will be flying thread. I'm sorry, but I don't think the honorary title is fitting."

"It's fine, T'kel. I wouldn't have it any other way." Raising a slight eyebrow, he continued, "Besides… D'tor sounds… odd."

The blue rider chuckled slightly, "Oh, and Doctor. You really shouldn't be leaving your dragonet alone."

Don't listen to him. I'm fine.

"They say—"

"It's your dragon. Of course they'd say that. Now I'm being serious—don't neglect them."

The Doctor frowned slightly at T'kel, but then took his advice and headed back towards his dragon.

These gender-neutral pronouns are giving me a headache; may I refer to you as a male for my own sanity?

Iryth crooned, Of course. I'm sorry I caused you such distress.

Please don't apologize! It's not your fault!

With a piteous cry, the dragonet looked towards his weyrmate, his faceted eyes whirling a distressed grey, I'm itchy.

"T'kel! He's itchy! What do I do?" Worry played across his visage, and he looked at his poor, itchy dragonet with a sympathetic gaze.

Typically, the Doctor would have thought to scratch or oil his companion's hide, however, being newly impressed, he was far to overwhelmed to think logically. T'kel turned to face the Doctor and chuckled, "Here—use this to sooth his skin. He will need to be oiled several times a day while he grows." With a sly grin, T'kel handed a vial of oil to the Doctor, which he immediately began applying to his weyrmate's hide.

Eyes whirling a content blue, Iryth crooned happily, You're very considerate.

"W-What, me? No… I… well…" Face flushing a bright shade of red, the Doctor smiled at his companion, embarrassed.

I'm sleepy…

"Ah… let me finish oiling down your hide and then uh… I guess we… follow them?" The Doctor looked towards the crowd of children making their way across the bowl towards the Weyrling Barracks.

Ellira and gold Tanith strode past them. Flashing a charming smile, she made her way towards the Barracks, the golden dragonet dragging behind her weyrmate sleepily.

After a few minutes of rubbing down Iryth's hide, the Doctor decided it was time for them to retire. "Come along~" Grinning, he made his way towards the Weyrling Barracks, Iryth trying his best to keep up. Noticing that the tiny dragonet wasn't at his heels, he turned to his partner, waiting for him to catch up before hoisting him upon his shoulders.

Thank you. I can't walk fast… I'm sorry.

"Don't apologize! I just forgot how tiny you are." After what seemed like an eternity, the Doctor finally made it across the Weyr Bowl, and into the barracks.

A man was scurrying about, making sure everyone was comfortable. Judging by the knot on his shoulder, he was a brown rider.

"Greetings, and who might you be?"

"I'm the Doctor," Gesturing towards his dragonet, he continued, "and this is Iryth."

The rider took a bow, "Nice to meet you. My name is L'met, and I will be assisting the weyrlings in their training."

Gesturing towards an empty stone couch, L'met led the Doctor and his dragonet towards where they would be staying. With widened eyes, the Doctor realized that he'd be staying here for a while; his TARDIS wouldn't be happy.

I'm sure she won't mind. Iryth crooned, trying to comfort the Doctor.

"I don't know…" Just the thought of the TARDIS making a fit made the Doctor feel ill. "You know, I'll take care of things while you're sleeping."

Alright. I'm very sleepy… have fun.

Gently caressing the tiny white dragonet's head, he waited until his companion fell asleep. Picking himself up, he looked around for the exit. Suddenly, he heard a very familiar voice.

"Is the Doctor in here? Oh! There you are!" The young N'lor raced into the barracks, almost knocking L'met down. "There's always a great gathering after a hatching! Come!" His heterochromatic brown and green eyes lit up, and he grabbed the Doctor firmly by the arm and dragged him out of the barracks.

"Where are we going!"

"The Gather's held in the lower caverns. Come quick, I want to buy a new pair of boots before they're sold out!"

With a raised eyebrow, the Doctor spoke, "You know I could just get you a pa—" Before he was able to finish his sentence, N'lor tugged on him hard, almost causing him to fall face first into the sand. "Okay, okay, allons-y!"

The large dining hall was impressively made up. It had decorations everywhere, and what he assumed to be the Fort Weyr emblem was embroidered on a great deal of tapestries and displayed about the walls. There were hundreds of people about the long tables, and the kitchen had a dozen drudges scurrying about, hastily making their last-minute preparations.

N'lor tugged on him again, "Over here!"

"I thought we were eating!"

"No you crazy space-man, we're getting boots!" N'lor looked at the Doctor with a frown, continuing to pull him through the crowd, bumping into individuals who then looked at him displeased.

Finally, the pair arrived out in front of the Weyr. The entrance road was littered with craftsman selling their wares. "Yes!" With a big goofy grin on his face, the child dragged the Doctor along the road, finally making his way to the leather crafter's tent. "I would like a pair of boots!"

The older crafter smiled, "Oh, would you? May I have a look at one of your boots?"

Excited, N'lor tore off his old boot, and shoved it on the workbench. The Doctor flinched, "Easy there, you're going to break something…" The boy looked towards him with a slightly apologetic smile, but then looked back towards the craftsman, a cheesy grin plastered across his face.

"Let's see here…" Looking through some pre-made boots, he brought back a couple pairs in different styles and colors to show the young dragonrider. "Do any of these appeal to you?"

N'lor took his hand and placed it upon his chin, staring down the pairs of boots. "What do you think, Doctor?"

Bending over, the Time Lord carefully eyed the selection, "They're all expertly crafted." Smiling, he looked towards the elder before him, "Brilliant job!" Now he wondered which pair would be best suited for riding. With a contemplated expression upon his face, he looked them over, picking up a few pairs and examining the cut and tread. "I believe T'kel has a pair like these." He gently picked up pair of boots that went up towards the mid-calf, and presented them to the boy.

"Yeah, they look like my father's boots now that you mention it."

The crafter smiled, "Those are very popular among dragonriders—I believe they would be well-suited to your needs."

N'lor beamed, "Yeah! I think you're right. Let me try them on…" Taking the boots, he the placed them upon his feet walking around some before deciding that they were comfortable, "I'll take these please! Is there a chance I could sell my old boots…?"

Smiling, the crafter nodded, "You sure can! After selling your boots, the price comes to two marks."

N'lor whined, "Aw man, I think that's all I have… oh well." Taking the wooden currency from his small satchel, he presented them to the tannercrafter. "Thanks for the boots!" With a smile, N'lor then grasped the Doctor's hand, and pulled him back inside the Weyr.

Looking around, the Doctor was almost overwhelmed by the amount of people crowded inside the lower caverns. It wasn't as if he weren't used to such scenarios, but at the same time he had not encountered this many people since the Titanic incident. Turning towards the boy, he spoke, "Well, this is lovely and everything, but I really should get going—"

"Noooo, you can't leave meeee!" N'lor pouted.

Heaving a dejected sigh, the Doctor resigned himself, "Fine…"

Perking up, N'lor was happy that his attempts at keeping the Doctor by his side succeeded. Aliens were easy! His dragon Llieraneth, trumpeted his joy out into the Weyr Bowl.

A frown across his visage the Doctor noted, "You're far too excited about this."

A cheesy grin across his visage, N'lor then proceeded to pull the Doctor towards the kitchen.

"Soooo, Doctor… we have everything today. Pretty literally everything, anyway; at least all the stuff that's in season. Here, take a look!" N'lor grinned and gestured towards the large table that had platters of food spread across it.

"You do realize I don't know what any of this is, right?"

"Shards! You really don't know anything do you? Bah! I'm too hungry to explain, I'll just get you a plate of something."

"Actually, I think I've had that with T'kel," gesturing towards the roasted wherry meat he continued, "It tasted like turkey if I recall correctly."

"…turkey? I'll take your word for it. That must be some kind of space-food." N'lor raised an eyebrow towards the Doctor, and began cutting his food. "Okay, so I'll give you some wherry… Oooh! Herdbeast Stew, yum….. Oh and a cup of Klah for both of us…. Ooo! Fresh berries…"

After creating huge plates of food for the both of them, N'lor regarded the Doctor with a wide grin, "All right! This should be good for now. We can always come back for seconds." Handing a plate to the Doctor, N'lor then scanned the tables in hopes to find one that wasn't so crowded.

"So, space-man, you need to not act so… spacey. At least pretend you know what you're doing. It's weird enough you have a white dragon; you don't need to draw attention to yourself."

"What! I can't help it! You try being on a planet that shouldn't even exist!"

N'lor rolled his eyes at the Doctor's comment, "Yeah, yeah. I'm sure you've seen stranger."

The Doctor remained silent; the boy definitely had a point. Shooting him a disapproving eyebrow, he began digging away at his food.