A/N I have no excuse for this taking so long because it sat on my laptop for ages. It just need a bit of editing. Anyway, sorry for the wait. DS
D'rell walked quickly through the lower cavern back towards the exit into the bowl. He was lost in a deep, dark well of confusion and, surprisingly, irritation.
He was irritated with Marna. Why had she made such a point of mentioning the fact he had given Tristan D'sar's old jacket? Wasn't it a positive move that he had allowed Tristan to wear it? There had been a time when, lost in the depths of his grief, he had not allowed anyone to touch anything belonging to D'sar. He hadn't dared move anything in the weyr feeling, in his grief stricken state, that if he had D'sar or Merth would somehow not recognise the place and not be able to return from between. He had spent a long time hoping they would and an even longer time accepting that they wouldn't. D'sar had died in his arms and Merth had suicided, as dragons did when their riders died.
That had been four Turns ago. Why would she show such shock and surprise when he was finally moving on? Wasn't he allowed to?
D'rell had surprised himself though, when he had handed the jacket to Tristan and not felt any pang of grief, only sadness at the memories the jacket held.
D'rell had not missed the look on Tristan's face at Marna's reaction. Shards he had felt the man's reaction. His sudden discomfort was blatantly apparent. D'rell had thought Marna more tactful than that. Tristan was going to have a hard enough time trying to accept his situation as it was without people going out of their way to make him feel uncomfortable.
B'son hadn't helped either. He loved the man dearly but he could be a stubborn, prickly son of a bitch sometimes. He'd gone out of his way to try to make Tristan feel useless. What was his problem? Did he see Tristan as a threat? To what for shard's sake? He was the one that kept trying to bring him out of the shell he had retreated back into after D'sar's death but when he did something independent B'son was suddenly dead set against it.
Shards knew what he was doing was somewhat unconventional. He gave a wry chuckle as he stepped out into the mid morning sun. Finding Tristan on that mountainside had been a bit of a shock and D'rell had not really had time to think about the impact the Starman's presence was going to have on all of their lives. Tristan was the confirmation to all those that still doubted their ancestors had come from the stars too. Tristan was also a bit of an enigma.
When D'rell had taken Areth to feed the day before he had had a little time to mull over everything that had happened since he had rescued Tristan from the snowstorm. The man was definitely a puzzle. He seemed so excited, eager and confident one moment and the next he was terrified, vulnerable and alone. Well of course he was alone, he was millions of miles from home with no way of getting back to the life he'd lost.
D'rell could relate to that, not to the millions of miles perhaps, but to the loss of everything: a life; a family; a home.
He and his family had been travelling to start a new life in the Southern Continent when a freak asteroid strike had caused a terrible tsunami that had wreaked havoc along the entire Southern coast line. Their ship had been swamped. D'rell had been fourteen and had been the only survivor. He had lost everything he'd ever known when he had been washed up on the beach of the small but prestigious Cove Hold and thrust into a life that was completely different to his small fishhold upbringing. It had eventually led him to the Weyr and impression of Areth so some good had come out of it all. He just wished it hadn't been at the expense of his parents and his sister and the rest of his extended family.
D'rell sighed as he stood in the full sunshine waiting for Areth to come down from the heights. He hadn't thought about his family in a long time and he felt guilty about it really, but he had had other things to occupy his mind.
His work at Landing for one. He had been recruited to that by D'sar who had discovered his uncanny ability with numbers whilst he'd been in the older rider's weyrling class. That had not been exactly a smooth ride, but they had eventually been inseparable when their dragons had mated. D'rell would have quite happily moved into the older man's weyr the day they'd met except he'd only been sixteen at the time and newly impressed to Areth.
There'd been other reasons to wait but D'rell did not have time to dwell on them as dust and pebbles swirling about his feet and a large shadow falling about him heralded the arrival of his "lift" as Tristan had so eloquently described the beautiful Green Dragon that was his world. He looked up, shading his eyes from the sun and from the rising dust as Areth landed with a skilful back wing,
~D'rell. Her tone was affectionate and full of love. He could also detect a little concern and he knew she would be worried about his mood as he had left Tristan just now, ~Tristan asked me to look after you. She informed him matter-of-factly,
~Did he now? D'rell asked unable to determine how he actually felt about that.
He'd only known the man two days and he had already taken over his weyr, his bed and now, apparently, his dragon. D'rell wasn't angry with him though, Tristan was on a strange planet with strange customs and shards only knew what he thought of all the attention he was getting because of his unusual abilities that weren't really all that unusual here. From what he'd told D'rell though, he had lived with prejudice his entire life. D'rell figured the guy needed a break, and he intended to make sure he felt as welcome as possible.
He reminded himself to speak to B'son about the way he'd acted around Tristan earlier. B'son could be a little over protective. D'rell didn't hold it against him; he just wished he would calm his instincts sometimes.
He mounted Areth and they took off for the firestone heights before they joined their wing for Threadfall. He cleared his head of everything but the task ahead. He couldn't afford to be distracted during threadfall, not even by a pair of appealing green eyes and a funny sing song accent.
Tristan was taken by Marna and introduced to one of the groups of healers readying for threadfall and the inevitable injuries that would present themselves. A young woman named Terla, stocky and gruff voiced, with short dark hair, had taken him happily under her wing. She was currently showing him the ropes as Tristan tried to give her his full attention. His thoughts kept wondering though, mostly to the look in D'rell's eyes as he had left without saying good bye.
Areth had told him the man had suffered losses. Well he could kind of relate to that. He'd lost everything he'd ever known, although he was pretty sure everything he'd ever known was still out there alive and well. There was just no way in hell he was ever going to get back there.
Tristan examined his thoughts on that subject and he had to conclude that even after two days he felt more at home here than he had anywhere, ever,
"Hey, Tristan, are you listening to me?" Terla pinched him in the side, making him yelp. She regarded him with flashing dark eyes, hands on her hips and a flick of her hair.
He grinned at her and apologised for his inattention, she was a feisty one but as he looked around him all the healers seemed to have spirit and strength of character. Terla was currently showing him some of the ointments and herbs they would be using in treating thread score, which, he was led to understand, looked like someone had drawn a white hot poker across the skin to melt it. He had no idea what the hell a white hot poker was, but from the intense emotion that filtered through his psych stone he reckoned it was pretty bad,
"This is numbweed." Terla was showing him a large ceramic pot full of an acrid smelling slightly greenish ointment, "As the name suggests it numbs pain. Anything that's open, bleeding, bruised or oozing insides needs to be smothered with this," Tristan shuddered at the candid description of wounds he was likely to come across. He felt a little green around the edges at her graphic explanations, "Of course you have to clean the area first to make sure there's no thread left in the wound. The dead stuff can cause an infection, and if they're unlucky enough to have a live one eating away inside there then better to get it out quick before they're eaten inside out."
Tristan felt faint, and wanted desperately to go away somewhere and vomit. He'd dealt with wounds before, some horrible stuff when he'd been stuck working shifts in a Triage centre in the middle of a warzone on some dingy backstreet planet somewhere a lifetime ago. He'd never dealt with stuff that could eat you alive from the inside out though, even if he did suspect the girl was exaggerating. He didn't dare turn down his psych stone to find out if her explanations were embellished or not.
"Clean the wound with water," Terla continued, "Water can kill the live thread too if you use enough, although most of it freezes in between." Terla continued to explain to him, showing him a few different devices for flushing water over wounds,
"What does it look like, this Thread I'll be cleanin', anyway?" Tristan asked, deciding that no question was a stupid one since he knew nothing of this organism except it destroyed anything organic in its path,
"It turns to black dust when it's frozen. If it isn't frozen it will wiggle." Tristan gave an involuntary shudder and was relieved to see he wasn't the only one in their group that reacted that way, "If it wiggles pour as much water on it as you can because in the hope it will drown. The only other way to kill it is by fire or Agenothree although neither of these is too good for your patient." There was a ripple of laughter from the group but Tristan had been in enough situations like this to recognise that this time humour was being used to disguise true feelings.
Tristan felt bombarded with information and not just from Terla's explanations but from everything he'd been told about this planet the day before as well. His head was buzzing, but he forced himself to focus. This was no different to any other emergency situation. He would think about the other stuff later, right now hoards of riders and their incredible dragons were about to defend their planet and they needed all the help they could get, no matter how small.
Terla's briefing finished and she led Tristan to some tables where trays of food had been set,
"Marna says you are trained as a medic." Terla stated as everyone at the table tucked into some meat rolls, bread and cheese. Tristan couldn't help giving a sigh of satisfaction as he bit into his umpteenth fresh bread roll since rising that morning,
"Yeah," he said with a full mouth, "I trained initially as a medic then went into counselling so I could get jobs on transports and cruisers." He realised his answer might not be understood but he saw Terla nod and several others listen with interest,
"So you've travelled about a bit?" she asked, not seeming phased at all that he was describing travelling in space. She gazed up at the ceiling of the cavern, "I've often wondered what it would be like." She said wistfully, "I've studied the stars and the planets, we all have to as part of our training for candidacy."
"Candidacy?" Tristan asked frowning, "For what?"
"For impression, Tristan." A young man told him, "Most of us," the lad gestured about the table, "are here because we were or are to be presented as candidates to impress dragons. Some already have been and weren't successful. If we wish to stay in the Weyr beyond unsuccessful impression then we have to make ourselves useful and carry on training in some sort of skill." He waved his hand about the small group, "We all chose to be healers."
"Is stayin' in the Weyr better than goin' back where you came from?" Tristan asked, curious to know what life was like elsewhere when it seemed so accepting and informal here. Almost all the young people there agreed that life in the Weyr was far easier than their life in Hold and Craft and far more permissive. Tristan decided to leave that explanation to his own imagination,
"So, you met any people that weren't human on your travels, then?" Terla asked and Tristan watched her and the others carefully as he answered,
"Yes I have, a great many different races and species." He told them all and every single one of the young people at the table leaned closer to hear better, "I seen some sights too. I once visited a planet that was completely covered in ice. The inhabitants lived in caves like these but carved outta ice instead o' rock: whole cities." He smiled at the interested eager faces urging him to tell them more,
"You are going to be a big hit around the main hearth in the evening once everyone has had enough of singing." Terla and several others laughed, "You'll have to tell us more."
"I'd be happy to." Tristan agreed gleefully, happy to have found such a captive audience.
A dragon's bugle caught everyone's attention and Tristan's ears were suddenly inundated with noise. He looked to Terla in shock and she smiled as she pushed herself away from the table. She grasped Tristan's hand and pulled him along with the crowd as they all piled towards an exit tunnel,
"Come on, Starman." She called, "Let's show you something I can guarantee you won't have seen anywhere else in the known Universe."
Tristan found himself being pulled along a different tunnel to the one he and D'rell had entered at breakfast. They emerged onto a large open area, cleared of vegetation just like every other outside space immediately surrounding the Weyr. Terla had not been wrong when she'd told Tristan he would see something spectacular as he looked now on row upon row of dragons of every hue. The noise was immense and he put his hands to his ears as the entire Weyr's compliment of Dragons bugled their readiness to fly.
Terla laughed, shouting above the noise,
"Amazing isn't it?" she asked, Tristan could only nod, "This is a reason to stay here, even without everything else Weyr life gives us."
Tristan found himself scanning the crowds of Dragons looking for one in particular. He didn't think he'd have a hope in hell's chance of seeing D'rell, though, since the massed dragons were some distance from where he and the others were standing.
Tentatively he pushed through the protective barrier created by the psych stone to send out a searching thought for Areth. The action needed concentration, since it needed to be a narrow band to search for one mind among so many. If he was not careful the shielding would break and he knew he would be hard pushed to re establish it among so many telepathic minds,
~I am here, Tris. He sighed with relief as he heard her voice and felt the calming, reassuring touch of her mind. He smiled at the shortening of his name, We are ready to fight thread. D'rell and I fly together.
~Is he in a better mood now, honey? He asked with concern, ~He was kinda sad when he left me. Tristan had felt a little responsible for D'rell's sadness,
~He feels much better. We are together. He has lost a lot in his life, but he still has me.
~I'm sure he knows he's a lucky guy.
~I know I am a lucky dragon. I go now. D'rell says you must not work too hard.
~He could've told me that himself, but tell him not to worry, babe. I'll stop when I'm tired. Good luck to you both.
With that Tristan felt the connection go silent, although the sensation of Areth's mind and D'rell's, stayed with him. That was a surprise to him, since that almost never happened. It was as if they were holding onto him, reluctant to let go. He felt a very strong sense of protectiveness directed towards him from both Areth and D'rell that he had never felt from anyone else ever, apart from his mother, many years before, when he'd been a small child. The sensation was not unpleasant, but it was disconcerting.
He didn't have time to think about any of it though because, with a single bugle from the lead Bronze Dragon the entire massed wings lifted from the ground sending dust swirling. The blasts of air from all the Dragons' powerful wings almost knocked Tristan off his feet. This was not the most spectacular sight though, since they saved the best until last. Without any warning the whole lot disappeared between,
"Holy shit." Tristan exclaimed, bringing gasps from those around him.
Terla pulled him up, laughing, and led him from the edge of the take off area,
"Time to get to work Tristan." She told him.
Tristan stood and dusted himself down then followed her and the others to the tents set up for triage and treatment of wounds. There wasn't much time, after that, for anything except quick action and instinct as the first injuries came in.
Six hours later D'rell and the rest of his wing returned to the Weyr, weary and battle soiled.
D'rell would normally have Areth fly him straight to his weyr high up the cliff on the inside of the ancient volcano bowl after she had bathed in the lake; today though he had another priority.
Despite having focused his thoughts on the task of fighting thread he had been unable to completely block every thought of Tristan out of his head. Areth had relayed Tristan's final message of good luck to him but she needn't have because he had heard it quite clearly himself. The mystery of Tristan grew deeper by the hour. He had told him that in order to speak to someone telepathically he needed to be in physical contact. How then could D'rell hear him half way across the training grounds? And with Tristan's so called psych stone turned to full?
He was also full of concern, since, as soon as they had landed he'd asked Areth to find the man. She'd found him easily but had informed D'rell that he was asleep. When she told her rider where Tristan was sleeping however he had cursed and quickened his pace.
Dammit, the last thing he'd said was that he would rest when he was tired,
~Sleeping is resting. Areth announced in confusion,
~Yes love, but he's not sleeping where he should be, in our weyr, he's in the sharding infirmary. What the shell happened?
~I have asked Cerith and she says he is not hurt, just very tired.
D'rell strode across the training grounds and entered the caves via the infirmary entrance. The place was, as he would have expected, bustling and full. There had been no serious injuries, and thankfully no deaths this fall, but there had been a great deal of scoring and at least a dozen dragons and riders would be out of action for a few weeks.
The percentage was average. D'rell found himself calculating it all in his head, his quick, mathematic brain remembering and comparing the numbers against other falls that Turn. He made a note to write down the statistics when he had found Tristan.
~B'son says he is up against the far wall, snoring. Areth told her rider, ~He says if you don't get him to move soon he will pour a bucket of water over the man and get him to move himself, apparently he is making the place look untidy. Areth sounded surprised by the phrase and D'rell chuckled, in spite of B'son's obvious irritation. Dragon's always took things so literally.
D'rell arrived at the far wall, nodding amiably at those he passed. He scanned along the length and located the blond curls of Tristan's lowered head. The man was leaning against the wall between two wooden stretchers. His knees were tucked under his chin. His arms rested on his bent knees and his head rested there. Someone had been kind enough to place a blanket around him as he slept, but no one had thought to move him to a bed,
"We didn't have any spare beds." B'son explained as he approached, as if to pre-empt D'rell's question,
"Even lying him down would have been marginally better than letting him sleep like that, B'son." D'rell complained. B'son pursed his lips and held a slate out to a young woman at his side having just checked some recordings on it,
"Look, D'rell, he's lucky someone had the time to give him a blanket." The rider ran his fingers through his hair. D'rell noted he still had smudges of black dust on his cheeks, "He wanted to help and be useful and that means no special treatment."
"Shard it, B'son, I don't know what your problem is, but we should think ourselves lucky he wanted to help. He's been here two days and been through hell. Making him feel welcome should be our priority, but you're going out of your way to make him feel sharding useless."
"If he can't stand the heat he should stay out of the kitchen." B'son snipped, "No one would have thought any less of him if he'd opted to stay in your weyr, but noooo, he had to prove he could be of use." B'son clicked his tongue against his teeth, "If he makes himself ill I will be very unhappy." D'rell whirled on the older rider, feeling very unhappy himself,
"Have you given any thought to the fact that he probably would have rested if he hadn't felt he had to prove himself useful because one particular prissy bastard of a green rider was in a bad mood this morning?" D'rell hissed.
He left B'son spluttering and angry faced and slowly approached the sleeping Tristan. He did not look at all comfortable, and considering his muscles were still recovering from sleeping for many Turns in a cryogenic pod, sleeping in this awkward position was probably not very good for him. D'rell knelt down at the blond man's side and touched his arm gently,
"Tristan." He said softly, not wanting to shock him, "Tristan, Areth and I can take you up to the weyr, you'll be more comfortable there." Tristan did not stir and D'rell could hear his light snoring. The man really was in a deep sleep.
D'rell sat back on his heals. He could try to carry the man by himself, he was slim but he was tall too. He didn't feel he could ask anyone to help him though since everyone was busy, rushed off their feet with thread scored riders and Dragons.
He looked Tristan over, determining how best to pick the guy up when he saw a glint of turquoise peeping out from beneath the man's cuff: the psych stone. D'rell remembered when he had touched it the day before, it had opened a link between their minds. Would that wake Tristan up? He tentatively reached out and placed the tip of his index finger to the tip of the stone.
Immediately Tristan's head shot up. His arms flailed outwards, knocking D'rell backwards. The rider fell onto his backside with a cry. Tristan moved quickly, fully awake in less than a second, his body whirled into a crouching defensive position in one fluid movement that shocked D'rell, making him gasp and scrabble back to give the man some space.
Tristan looked about him with wide, frightened green eyes, his breath came in short, sharp gasps and D'rell could feel his shock, surprise and fear,
"Whoa, there, Tristan, it's me, D'rell." The rider held out his hands in reassurance, "Shards, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to shock you?" he said quickly, trying to calm himself and block out Tristan's emotions. He swallowed a lump in his throat as his mind was cast back to a time when he might have woken like that if someone had taken him by surprise.
Tristan's eyes clouded over, and his brow furrowed in confusion at his abrupt wake up call,
"W-what the hell did you do?" he asked D'rell in a slightly high pitched voice,
"I-I was trying to wake you, because you didn't look very comfortable there frankly, and Areth and I are going up to the weyr and thought you might appreciate a lift." D'rell said quickly, shaken by Tristan's extreme reaction.
The tall blonde's body seemed to relax slightly and he propped himself up on all fours, rubbing sleep from his eyes and groaning,
"Do me a favour, D'rell." He said slowly, "Don' ever wake me up like that again."
"I'm sorry, it's just, I…shards, Tristan I'm sorry." He was suddenly embarrassed and full of remorse for causing any distress. Tristan knelt up and smiled a weary half smile,
"It's okay, I'm okay, you just took me by surprise that's all." He frowned down at his psych stone, "You touched this?" he asked and D'rell nodded,
"I remembered it had opened a link yesterday, I'd tried to wake you but you were dead to the world. I just thought it might be quicker." Tristan chuckled,
"It sure was quicker, shit, you scared me half to death with all those images at once." D'rell frowned, "Next time a simple shake on the shoulders would be better." D'rell stood and held out a hand to pull Tristan to his feet,
"What do you mean all those images at once?" he asked as Tristan stood and smoothed the creases out of his trousers and tunic. The taller man threaded his fingers through his messy curls and opened and closed his mouth in an attempt to moisten it,
"When you touched the stone it did open up a link, but because I was asleep I wasn't controlling how much it opened." Tristan explained, "You just showed me everything you and Areth did since the last time I saw you, except you gave me it all in less than a second." D'rell regarded Tristan with an open mouth and wide, incredulous eyes,
"Shards." He exclaimed, a twinkle in his blue eyes, "That'll be the after dinner thread stories spoiled then." Tristan just stared back at him before laughing out loud,
"Oh my God, I fuckin' love this place." He exclaimed happily, "Are you tellin' me that doesn't completely freak you out, what I just told you?" D'rell shook his head and gave Tristan a wide grin,
"Why should it, Tristan?" He asked, "After everything I've learned about you so far I very much doubt anything else you tell me will surprise me."
"Don't count on it." Tristan murmured under his breath before smiling broadly at D'rell, flashing some perfect white teeth, "Now did you say something about a lift?" D'rell nodded, ignoring Tristan's murmured statement, although not forgetting it,
"Areth has been bathed, but I am still filthy, so she has offered to take us both up to our weyr to get a bath and a change of clothes."
"Bath sounds good." Tristan agreed, "But I don't have any other clothes."
"Don't worry." D'rell assured him, "I'm sure Marna will have found someone to deliver some clothes for you, and if not you can borrow some more of mine. We have a celebration to go to tonight remember?" Tristan did remember,
"I'm lookin' forward to it, bud." He said with a grin,
"Come on then." D'rell led him out of the infirmary and away from B'son's angry glare because of the disturbance they had caused.
D'rell felt a little guilty that he might have disturbed some of the injured riders but not guilty because he'd disturbed B'son. He was still angry with the blond rider for being so unwelcoming of Tristan. He only hoped he wasn't so prickly that evening. Tristan deserved to be shown some proper Pern hospitality, and there was nowhere on Pern more hospitable than Benden Weyr.