Ezhar and Tinoth's weyr

Back to the Candidate page Impressed at Istabitha's Weyr for Valentine's Day!

"How could this be a dragon egg?" Ezhar whispered to herself. She had been led by the search rider into Istabitha's weyr, and then through corridors long empty. Ezhar glanced around her once they'd stopped. The room was warm and had a strange hum to it all. Perhaps it was her imagination. The jangling of her jewelry half-distracted her, then she found herself alone. The search rider had gone somewhere, and Ezhar wasn't at all sure if she would be able to find her way back to the rest of the Weyr without getting quite lost. But there was an egg. A strange shaped egg, almost like a heart. And it was a pale pink color, like coral. When she reached out to touch it, a very odd little flitter came swooping down, hissing at her briefly and then settling on the egg itself. "Well, this is fine!" Ezhar exclaimed. "How am I supposed to find out if this egg is for me, when I can't even touch it?" The darkish violet flit creeled, and then flew to her shoulder. He dug into her skin but she did not wince. "You're a bold one," she commented. Something deep in her mind drew her back to the egg on the sand. Finally unhindered by the flit's angry hissing, and almost encouraged by him now, Ezhar knelt down and put her hands on the warm egg. It moved a bit, then it shattered! From inside it, came a deeply red colored snout! Paler pink wings unfolded and this small but very beautiful dragonet stepped from the bits of the egg! I am Tinoth, she announced. And that is Valenin. "You ... know this flit, do you?" Ezhar chuckled as she embraced her new hatchling. It was the finest gift in the world... Now if only she could give it to Tainor...

"Tainor..." Ezhar said, her voice trembling, like her hands, "please understand. When a dragon chooses... you just go. You can't say no." The tall, handsome man that loved Ezhar looked at her large beautiful eyes. His eyes were hurt, reddened, slightly angry. "You could have sent a message--" "I did not know where you would be," she defended. "You could have sent word to the places I go. You know I visit hold and hall, regularly." "But not weyrs..." Ezhar said, quietly. "But now, you ... will have reason to visit Istabitha's Weyr. Won't you?" She looked at her love, tears brimming, "Won't you?" After a long, long silence, Tainor turned to Ezhar. "Of course I will. I must. But... I know stories of how weyr-born folk act. You and I... We..." "We are meant to be together, Tainor... Believe me that I love you! You ... cannot understand -- yet -- how I feel when Tinoth touched my heart. But she is my life blood. And I am hers. We, we are drawn together in love of the heart, love of the soul." I like him. He smells good! Tinoth bespoke. Ezhar had to resist laughing. Tainor looked at her, because her face had screwed into a silly mask. "What is it? Why do you mock me?" He demanded, but then Ezhar shook her head, her volumes of black hair tumbling about. "It is Tinoth. She just said that you smell good. She likes you." Tainor's grey-green eyes turned to the weyrling dragon, her oddly red and white hide glimmering in the twilight. "She does? I do?" He searched himself for something, and suddenly smiled. "Ah! Ah, Ezhar, with all this -- excitement -- I had almost forgotten why I wanted to see you soon. Because I found this. This must be what she smells..." Tainor removed a vial of liquid, and opened the glass-topped cork. A scent wafted through the room, sweet but not sickly sweet. Tinoth perked up, her eyes rolling through greens and blues. That is is! Oh, I like him a lot! Keep him, Ezhar! "I should hope so, Tinoth!" She turned to Tainor before he could ask what had been said, and laughed, "She wants me to keep you. I think I shall!"

Tainor watched Ezhar and her beautiful red-and-white dragoness as they practiced. The dragon was small by most standards, and he wondered how in the world it could be female? Weren't some browns close to red in their color? Well, he shrugged, and continued to watch. They had dived off the ledge earlier, down to the fields where Istabitha's weyrlings marched and sometimes scuffled. The whole bunch of young dragons would take to the sky, then return to the ground, over and over. Then they had begun to swoop in circled. Then, farther stunts and aerial loops, things which they needed to do when ... He gulped, when flying against Thread. How could he live with that?

You will live with me, won't you? Tinoth bespoke him directly. It still unnerved him a bit, and he smiled. "I want to... I'm afraid for you and Ezhar." I will not be flying against Thread very much. I am not very durable. Even the greens can outlast me when I fly against it. The dragon seemed almost disappointed, but Ezhar jumped from her neck and laughed. "So I see you two are bonding," she said. "And I get the idea that you're worried about us. Don't be, love," Ezhar kissed him on the cheek. "I've been asked to join a wing in the Protectorate." "A wing!?" Oh no, he thought... "But--" "It's the queen's wing, Tainoth, and queens don't often have to actually go up into Thread, but they do often have to visit other weyrs and attend meetings, and you know, represent weyrs!" "That's quite an honor, then," Tainor said, almost sadly. His story continues... Where Ezhar's leaves off!

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