This chapter continues scenes that directly relate to 'Dragonsong', the first book in Ann McCaffrey's Harper Hall Trilogy. It also follows a back story from the second book of the original Dragonriders of Pern Trilogy, 'Dragonquest'. Dialog either matches or follows scenes from these books.

Chapter Four

T'gellan returned Menolly with a clutch of 31 eggs. He left her to the bustle of the lower caverns as he and Monarth lifted to their weyr. They still lived in the weyr they were assigned after their first flight. In the upper reaches and back from the main bowl, it was quiet and received a lot of sun. More for Monarth than for his rank did he decline a Wingleader's weyr which would have given him direct access to the bowl. Here, he would always have to rely on Monarth to get to the bowl or come home but Monarth claimed that his rocky bed was perfectly shaped to him and his ledge was warm, even in winter.

Another advantage was the hot bath at the back of his sleeping quarters. The warmth and humidity welcomed him as he passed his dragon that was shifting himself into his stone couch. T'gellan stripped off his jacket and pants; kicked off his boots which skidded across the polished floor. He pulled his tunic over his head and dropped it on the press at the bottom of his bed. Stepping behind the curtain and into the steam he could feel his muscles relax. Rather than step into the large pool he cannonballed. A rumble from without was Monarth's usual response. T'gellan was tall enough now that he touched bottom with some force. As he stood the water level was just above his navel since a good portion was now on the floor and some would trickle into his sleeping quarters. Soon the water level would fill back up to his neck.

T'gellan waded over to where he kept sweetsands for washing but rather than suds up, he dunked again, running his fingers through his cropped hair. There was a protrusion of rock that he could recline upon that kept most of his body under the warm water. There he rested and let the events of the last few sevendays replay. His attention toward Mirrim was apparent to everyone but her, until today. He knew what "sad and angry" was; he had felt it himself when Willa first passed him by for another rider.

Weyrefolk understood the vulnerability of life. Each fall held the possibility of injury or death. They were broadminded with behaviors, sexual and otherwise. A dragonman's libido was tied to his dragon's appetites. Some of the hold or craft bred riders could be a bit inhibited but most weyr women were born and raised to this life even if they did remember the time before the current pass. And, their fathers were riders. The Weyrwoman, however, was rarely raised in a weyr; she was usually searched. Brekke was from a crafthall and it could explain why Mirrim was inhibited around him. He was certain of her attraction. How to get her to act upon it, that was his challenge.

He couldn't deny that Mirrim was reacting now. He didn't believe Menolly had the maturity to think of a dragonrider like a woman. As pretty as she was, there was an air of melancholy about her. He supposed that life under the inflexible Yanus was why she had run away. Besides, she was too new to life in the weyr. She would be intimidated and hadn't he heard a snippet that she'd be fostered to Felena?

Felena would admonish him if he tried to pursue her, not that he wanted to but he couldn't help but smile at Mirrim's reactions each time he paid attention to Menolly. He wanted that sharp-witted, sharp-tongued girl… no, woman.

"Mirrim is a woman." He stated aloud. She's done being a girl.

Mirrim is done with her foster mother . . . no, Brekke was done. Done as a queen rider, done as a foster mother, done as a woman. Done. If he gave much thought to the faces of Manora, F'nor and Mirrim he was sure that Brekke was gone in all but body. He reached out to Monarth but his dragon slept. Nobody's dragon would mention Brekke but T'gellan knew his dragon was trying to get her to speak to him. "Gentle Brekke, what happened to you was wrong."

T'gellan sighed and slipped under the water and rose to work some sweetsand into his hair and neck. He felt along his jaw and thought he should shave. He reached for his kit and pulled out his blade. He dunked himself when he finished then slowly pulled himself out of the pool.

As he dried himself he looked at his clothing strewn around his sleeping quarters. He pulled a clean pair of pants from his press and hung up his outer gear beside his riding straps. It was one thing to throw his jacket and gloves on the floor; never his riding straps. He reached for his newest gather tunic and a lighter pair of boots. He used his dirty tunic to wipe off the bench and press. All other garments were kicked into the alcove for now. The last thing he did was shake out the fur on the bed before exiting to Monarth's couch.

One lid opened over a blue tinged eye, slowly whirling, a brief wave of red shot through before the lid fell over it. "I like Brekke's dark one," said Monarth.

"I like Brekke's dark one too," T'gellan replied.

One eye opened first one lid then the next. Shots of red and green swirled in the blue whirls. "The dark one is sad at you; this is not right. The dark one has no joy for you."

"You most marvelous being." T'gellan said. He reached over to the brow ridge and caressed gently. "You've been listening to Mirrim so you do know she still has joy for you."

Soon only blue glittered in his eyes. "Yes." he replied, "That is why I like Mirrim."

"Then get up you great bloody lunk and take me to the bowl. I'll do my best to gain her joy for me back."

He sauntered into the dining hall a bit late and stopped to talk to girls found on search for the queen egg before serving himself. By then he knew exactly where Mirrim and Menolly sat. They were beside the night cooking hearth. Their fire lizards lined along the wall or on a shoulder. They were deep in conversation as T'gellan slid his plate next to Mirrim who didn't move away. Menolly was directly across from him but he studied the golden lump under her hair.

"So what are their names? Start with the little beauty on your shoulder."

The little queen's head popped out and watched him intently. Menolly stroked her golden and replied, "Beauty." Both girls giggled.

"That you are," he replied. He cut a piece of roast from his plate and skewered it at the end of his knife. Holding it in the air, he slowly moved it back and forth, enjoying how the little head swung with the motion. "Come take it, Beauty."

The little golden crawled down Menolly's arm, extending her neck towards the tip of his knife. Her back legs clung to her shoulder. He dipped the knife and she snatched the meat off the tip then sloped backed to her mistress' shoulder. "How about that?!" T'gellan exclaimed while Menolly gasped.

Mirrim snorted. "Don't be surprised. These greedy guts will eat what's offered from anyone. But that doesn't mean that they'll look to whoever feeds them." She sighed and gazed across the room and back to Menolly, "Besides, with nine . . ." Mirrim rolled her eyes.

T'gellan leaned in toward Menolly and said conspiratorially, "She's jealous, so she is, Menolly."

Mirrim elbowed him. "I am NOT. Three's quite enough, though," she regarded Beauty," I would have liked a queen. Let's see if Beauty will come to me. Grall does".

Menolly shrugged her shoulder toward Mirrim, willing her golden to be fed by her friend's hand.

"Here, Beauty." Mirrim proffered a crust of bread soaked in the meat juices. Both girls' plates were clean of food. Beauty cocked her head then turned away. Mirrim deftly sliced a chunk of meat off T'gellan's plate. Down came his knife pinning it.

"Hey!" he protested. "That's my dinner!"

"Just a little piece for the fire lizard; you can spare it."

"Then take the fat."

Menolly watched in fascination at the two sparred over the morsel of meat. Beauty became uninterested and she flew up to the mantle where five other fire lizards draped themselves.

"Well now, you ruined my chances to coax her, T'gellan."

"You didn't ever have a chance. Fire lizards don't like to be bossed."

Mirrim retorted. "More likely you didn't want me to succeed." She picked up the soggy bread crust ready to fling it at him."

Menolly's eyes flew open. She brought the snoozing brown fire lizard from her lap to the table and said quickly, "Here! Feed him; he's probably hungry". Mirrim wafted the bread under the fire lizard's nose. He submissively opened his mouth and she dropped it in.

"And what's this lazy bone's name?" chuckled T'gellan.

"Lazybones," replied Menolly then all three burst out laughing.

A few people looked over and smiled. T'gellan smiled back. It had been too subdued in the lower caverns since that terrible day. He saw one of the kitchen boys with an empty wineskin. "Galenan, are you fetching Oharan's table more wine?"

"Yes, T'gellan. D'yer want a skin for yourself?"

"Aye, and three cups!" He yelled as the boy scurried down a back hallway. Mirrim regarded him sternly. He gave her a light shove on her shoulder. "Water yours down if you don't trust it."

"I should pour water on you, then," she mumbled. T'gellan pretended not to hear.

Menolly had been surveying the room looking tired but content. "So Menolly, I have two of their names, what are the other seven?"

As she pointed and called out each by name, the respective fire lizard raised a head or flicked a tail. When the wine came, he poured a full cup for himself and Menolly and delivered a half cup to Mirrim.

"Drink up, good Benden wine is not to be refused," he said. Menolly dutifully sipped. "There now, isn't that the best you've ever tasted?" Out of the corner of his eye he saw Mirrim take a sip too. He drained half his cup and topped off all three. He leaned back stretching his long legs under the table. Watching Menolly's fingers tapping on the table, he noticed for the first time that her hand was deformed or perhaps injured. Then, he became aware that Oharan, the weyr Harper, was strumming his guitar. Menolly began humming, first the melody then a variation of it. Mirrim and his eyes met and they smiled.

"That was just lovely, Menolly," Mirrim exclaimed. "Oharan? Come over here; Menolly has a new harmony for that one."

Menolly looked stricken, "No, no, I couldn't."

T'gellan straightened. "Why not? A little music would give us all heart. There's faces around here as long as a wet turn," he explained, pouring her a bit more wine.

Oharan ambled over adjusting the strap on his guitar as he began the intro to the song he had just finished. As Menolly joined him on the second line, he nodded knowingly. Menolly's voice was full and clear. She sang a descant on the chorus that he had never before heard. He recognized that this girl had been taught more than the rudimentary training. He praised her sense of pitch at the end of the song and she blushed prettily, ducking her head demurely. He asked her to harmonize on the Last Flight Ballad.

As they began in harmony more voices joined. Oharan looked around then up to see four of the fire lizards sitting back on their haunches, throats vibrating as they crooned in chords. It was wonderful. Their tonal patterns were so intricate that he couldn't tell which ones were singing scales and which were holding whole notes. Two more fire lizards joined and the golden queen sailed down from her perch to land on Menolly's shoulder and warbled the counter melody with her.

Others were watching their table. Some were coming over for a closer look. Mirrim began babbling, exclaiming and pointing at the fire lizards. Oharan shook his head at her but then T'gellan took her hand under the table and pulled her close. With a quick "shush" in her ear he moved back craning his head and couldn't help exclaiming, "I don't believe it!"

Oharan exhaled sharply during the bridge and said in a low voice, "Don't scare them. Just let them do it." As they came to the end of the song, Oharan caught Menolly's eye. She had been watching him for the ritarde. He smiled as he noticed that the fire lizards were watching her. He nodded the last two chords and they ended together. It had been a while since the harper had sung with somebody so accomplished.

Spontaneous applause rippled throughout the room. Oharan bowed. T'gellan put a cup of wine in his hand. He toasted the audience, then bowed to Menolly and her fire lizards but the gesture was lost as Mirrim was speaking rapidly, demanding to know how she taught them to sing. Oharan drained his cup and handed it to T'gellan who absently filled it again. He was listening to the girls.

"Just shows that you don't know all there is to know, doesn't it, young Mirrim?" T'gellan teased. She picked up his hand under the table. She merely smiled directly at him as Menolly protested his jibe.

"HIC!"

"Hic," Menolly, in utter embarrassment slapped her hands over her mouth.

"How much wine have you been giving her, T'gellan?" Mirrim accused as she rounded the table to pat her friend's back.

"Certainly not enough to put her in her cups," he replied as she hiccupped again.

"Get her some water!" Mirrim demanded. T'gellan obediently stepped over to the basin and dipped out some water and brought it back.

"Hold your breath," Oharan suggested, slinging his guitar to his back as he came to Menolly's other side.

As the others returned to their own conversations and tables, the trio administered to Menolly's malady, giggling and berating each other. Poor Menolly tried to free herself from the attention, and stand to go to her room.

"You two numbwitts; move back and give her some air. You got her drunk, T'gellan. I'm taking her to her cube." Mirrim put her arm around Menolly's waist, urging her up.

Of one mind both Oharan and T'gellan stood to carry her. With Menolly lifted between them, T'gellan and Oharan managed to carry-walk her to her sleeping chamber. Mirrim kept up her harangue flinging the curtain open and deftly taking her from the men then sliding the curtain in front of them. Oharan giggled as he stepped back to return to the dining hall. T'gellan stood to the side of the curtain with a curious expression.

"What are you doing?" Oharan slurred. "C'mon, let's go back and finish that exquisite Benden white". T'gellan waved him off.

With keen Harper insight, Oharan's eyebrows lifted, "She's too young."

"Which one?" T'gellan replied.

"Both!"

"Go on back to your wine, Harper," T'gellan laughed. "Young Mirrim and I are about to come to an understanding."

Oharan chuckled as he walked away. T'gellan continued to watch the curtain as he listened to female murmurs and rustling of bedding and clothing. Soon, he perceived the shielding of the glows then the curtain parted. Mirrim backed out then turned abruptly into T'gellan's arms. He pulled her body close to his and pressed his lips to hers. She responded briefly then stiffened, pulling her head back.

"T'gellan! Let me go." She demanded with enough acid to give T'gellan all the confidence he needed.

"Come to my weyr tonight," He whispered beside her ear. He heard a sharp intake of breath then she trembled in his arms. He tightened his grip, pulling her head to his chest as he nuzzled her ear and whispered again "Come to my weyr tonight."

"I, … I mustn't, even if I wanted, I … don't dare…" Mirrim's voice was muffled into his chest but her arms circled around his waist. She pressed closer to him. "Tomorrow'll .. "

"Tomorrow be flamed." T'gellan interrupted. "You are not Brekke's fosterling nor an apprentice headwoman, nor healer tonight. Tonight is for you, Mirrim." He felt her body acquiesce into his so he lifted her into his arms, slightly surprised that she was heavier than her build suggested. "Tonight I am yours and I will be yours every night, if you will have me." He walked more by feel down the back corridor into the dark bowl where a pair of opalescent eyes whirled a gentle greenish blue.