I present the story of M'chell and his dragon. Greatly inspired by Anne McCaffrey's wonderful Pern series, this is fan fiction. This story was a Christmas present two years ago for a dear friend of mine who is, incidentally, a main character. I make no money off of this story and it is intended purely for the enjoyment of those who decide to read it. It is, and will always be, my gift to Mitchell. This is Nifty so you can expect that this story is about love between men. But there isn't any sex here, so if you're not interested look for something else. Oh, and it's copyrighted on Nifty and under International Copyright Law. Bear with me because it was written in bits and pieces. I'd like to thank ib3000 for his permission to post my own `Pern' story, and my dear Mitchell who gave me permission to share his present with the rest of you. And perhaps the greatest thanks of all to Ms. McCaffrey, who gave us such a wonderful world to dream of.
The Red Orb of Pern
M.C. Gordon
Chapter One:
All the residents of Benden Weyr were busy. They were always occupied with the thousand tasks that went into maintaining a weyr full of fighting dragons but more so during Threadfall. And Thread was falling across Pern.
Ten year old Mitchell, along with his friends Lydel and Andren, had been assigned to the weyr's Healers for the day. They had the task of seeing that there were enough pots of numbweed, bandages for humans and dragons, and the fine silk thread used by the Healers to stitch together the giant winged creatures and the men who rode them into danger.
"Ick!" Mitchell moaned as he and Lydel hauled a heavy pot of numbweed from the kitchen to the open area where the wounded would be tended. "I hate the smell of this stuff. It makes my nose burn."
"Me, too," Lydel replied. "Maybe next Fall we'll get to work with the Weyrlingmaster. I'd rather haul firestone any day. It stinks but it washes off. Numbweed stench sticks with you for days."
"I wonder if Fenely will let us work with her on the dragons," Andren added to the conversation. His arms were filled with the fine linen used for bandages and a basket of needles and thread hung from his left arm. "I'd like to be a Healer when I grow up and help to care for injured dragons."
Mitchell was trying to think of an appropriate remark when it hit him - a feeling so powerful that he dropped the handle of the pot and numbweed spilled onto the ground before Lydel could set the pot aright.
Mitchell dropped to his knees and clutched at his head.
Seconds later a low moaning sound was heard that built in volume and sorrow as all the dragons in the Weyr began the terrible keening that signaled the death of a dragon. Lydel and Andren hurried to the side of their stricken friend. They grasped his hands and held him as tightly as they could.
Dragon deaths weren't new to the Weyr during a Pass. The mammoth creatures were in danger each time they took to the skies to breathe fire and char the silver Threads that were Pern's enemy. They were the main line of defense against the mindless whisps that could destroy life, whether flora or fauna, in mere seconds. It was for this reason that dragons and dragonmen were held in high regard by the inhabitants of Pern.
"Mitchell?" asked Lydel, greatly concerned by his friend's reaction.
The boy lifted his head and looked at his friends from tear stricken eyes. "Trilenth," he replied. "The dragon was Trilenth."