[Log] Taking Care of Our Weyrwomen
Who: E'sere, L'dor
When: Day 5, Month 12, Turn 375
Where: Bowl, Benden Weyr
What: E'sere runs into L'dor and they discuss hatchings, golds, and timing it.
Northern Bowl Late Autumn. Clear. 30F / -1C.
The ground is flat, featureless rock with loose gravel speckling the gray surface. Just under a mile long - from from lake in the south and the hatching caverns in the north - and a half of a mile wide at the widest, most of the bowl is largely featureless: An open space ideal for dragons. Angled so that it faces almost perfectly north, it narrows to the north to be closer to a quarter-mile wide at the hatching cavern.
The entrance to the hatching grounds, wide and tall enough for a dragon to fly through, is on the northern wall. The living caverns tunnel branches off along the western wall. All along the rock walls of the bowl are ledges and weyrs.
-- Players --
E'sere.........Very handsome and well-dressed man in mid- to late twenties. Lean, rangy build; short dark hair; strong features, including a hawkish nose.
L'dor..........25, dark hair, blue eyes, tan. Looks fit; rather gangly.
-- Dragons --
Banyth.........Blue dragon.
-- Exits --
Hatching Grounds.........[N] Council Room.............[E]
Southern Bowl............[S] Living Cavern............[W]
In the afternoon, E'sere has found himself a pair of new weyrlings, one bluerider and one brown, that he's speaking to at present. Both look quite animated to tell of their dragons, who are goofing around while Morelenth eyes the pair watchfully; E'sere lets the two boys ramble on quite indulgently until finally the needs of the growing dragons pull them off to the barracks to feed them. E'sere waves after them, half-smirking as he watches them go.
L'dor emerges from the Living Cavern, his errand there completed. Banyth's lying not far from the entrance, darkly blue-grey in the fading winter light. L'dor turns in his direction, but raises a hand in greeting when he notices E'sere and the departing boys. "Afternoon!" He ambles over. "Seen much of the weyrlings?"
"I was just talking to a couple, actually, L'dor," E'sere answers, glancing around at the bluerider with a quick grin. "Good boys. They all seem to be, though--good kids. I'm quite pleased with them, and there's no knocking the clutch itself, either, if I do say so myself. How are you this afternoon? Up for a visit or just business?"
L'dor grins amiably in return. "Nothing like a few dozen very small dragons to liven a place up. I hope your Morelenth's proud of himself." He shakes his head. "Just a delivery run. We've hunted this afternoon: took an extra beast for here. We usually bring them straight here for butchering - they've got better surfaces for doing it on than we have in camp. We're bringing up more, now, of course - though I'm hoping the riders here will get in on that, too."
"Always," laughs E'sere, shaking his head as he shoots another look at Morelenth. "Good to hear. Morelenth and I should go hunt for ourselves tomorrow morning after drills, I think. The settlement's still going well, though? Even if we've claimed back a few of your residents?"
L'dor gives a chuckle. "Well, let me twist your arm to snag an extra herdbeast and bring it back for the weyrlings, then - and let me know, so I can keep track of what we need." He scans the bowl briefly: it's almost empty. "I wouldn't mind recruiting a few more, I'll admit. But, it's only going to get worse: we're hoping for more clutches in time, of course. I'm trying to do some planning - how we bring back the same amount with fewer people. I think we're going to have to farm more. Though, of course, the first clutch will eventually start being able to help with transport and hunting."
"We'll grab one, at least--might be able to handle a couple," E'sere notes, with a considering look at Morelenth before he glances back to L'dor. "They'll be grown before we know it, although I doubt it will be easy until they are. Morelenth and I will do what we can, though--it's the least we can do, really. I remember it was difficult enough for the tiny clutches the Reaches has, keeping the weyrlings fed because they just ate so much."
"Thanks," L'dor says, folding his arms across the front of his unbuttoned jacket. "I've got someone keeping tabs on quite a decent sized herd that's moving in on our usual area, which'll help. I'm hoping to corral some more live beasts, too. Oh, and we ought to talk about the drill schedule at some point. I'm going to need to keep a day clear if we do that." Curiously, he adds, "So what size clutches are you getting at the Reaches?"
"A day clear?" E'sere asks, but only absently. He gives the latter question more attention, quirking a wry smile. "Five, six dragons and we're quite pleased with a clutch. A bronze means it's an excellent clutch indeed. As for golds... High Reaches' senior is about forty-two or forty-three now. Our only junior is about five. I've lived at the Weyr my whole life and never seen but the one gold clutched. You can imagine my amazement, of course, in seeing thirty-six eggs from Morelenth's clutch this time--and a queen."
L'dor nods slowly. "That's smaller than they were in my time - Connell's time. Banyth's clutch was thirteen, and I believe the one my sister impressed in was larger. But I'd never seen anything like this size until we came here. It must have been worrying, only to have one queen for so long."
E'sere blinks at L'dor, surprised. "Worrying?" he repeats. "No, not really. Very standard, really--I don't think the other Weyrs ever really had more than one, either; their second queen always seemed to come the same as ours did: when the senior queen was old enough to begin to think of retiring. Which, ours since has, in favor of our junior, but. I suppose it's all in what one's used to, really. One gold is enough to get by in our time; less so in yours. Or rather, in the future Benden's, since you're of Connell's time."
L'dor frowns at that. "You have three active Weyrs in this time, and most of the time, there's only one queen dragon at each?" He considers for a moment, but concludes, "Well, I guess it's different at present, but that sounds pretty worrying to me. I mean, the future of dragonkind depending on the health of three dragons and three riders? It only takes an accident or an illness, and you could have a Weyr not having a gold at all. Connell started with one, but another one joined, and we hatched three in the turns we were there."
E'sere smiles dryly. "We're very careful with our weyrwomen," he notes. "It's just... part of our culture, I suppose, as much as having several is of your time's. It's what you're used to, it really is. Three queens in just a few years, that's... I can't imagine it. I'm still amazed seeing both Feliath and Ailuth together," laughs the bronzerider.
L'dor rolls his eyes. "Granted, one of those three was lost Between, and another one jumped off a cliff before she could really fly. But we were looking ahead to Fall, and trying to grow a Weyr from fewer dragons than we have here. We believed Thread was coming, at first, anyway. The dragons believed in it...." He shakes his head ruefully. "But anyway, we didn't actually have five together. Four, at one point."
E'sere blinks. "... Jumped off a cliff," he repeats slowly. "Ah. Yes, well--we take better care of our weyrwomen than to allow them to do /that/. /Between/ I could rather understand, but--" Questioningly, he looks to L'dor at that news.
L'dor pulls a face. "The dragon, not the rider. Took a few wingbeats, then got herself in a stew and started falling. Fortunately, we caught her before she did herself any damage." He glances over at Banyth with the hint of an approving smile. "The other one, though - we think she was trying to time it. Sharding dangerous, that."
E'sere does not look any bit reassured by L'dor's words, still eyeing him dubiously for news of that queen's mishaps. "Interesting," is his final verdict on that. Then: "Ah, yes. I've heard quite a lot about timing it, and it's difficulty, though I can't say I entirely understand it myself. How is it any different than any other trip /between/?"
L'dor thinks for a moment. "It's longer - the jumps take longer. And there's more to think about - you not only have to visualise the place, but also put in time-indications and tell your dragon when to go. That can be hard - most things that suggest time are quite general, like, if you visualise autumn leaves, that's autumn, but which autumn? You can perhaps tell your dragon that he's to go so far ahead, if it's a little way, but that won't work for the long jumps. We used the stars to get here, and they're not easy to hold in the head."
E'sere remarks absently, "I should like to try it sometime, since I'm unlikely to ever get another chance. But I suppose it really doesn't matter that much in the end; what use do I have for it? No one else now knows. But I should probably be on my way; I need to get dinner before it gets much later."
At the rhetorical question, L'dor shoots a sharp glance at the bronzerider. He says nothing, though, except, "I should be getting back, too. See you at drill, then." With a smile by way of farewell, he turns away and heads towards Banyth.
For sharp glances, E'sere has only an easy smile, and lifts his hand after L'dor in parting. "Have a good night, L'dor. I'll see you tomorrow."