No Hard Feelings

Writers: Estelle
Date Posted: 8th May 2020

Characters: Lorican
Description: Lorican receives an unexpected apology
Location: Barrier Lake Weyr
Date: month 2, day 3 of Turn 10
Notes: Mentioned: Lusilk, Urlene, Bilpen

Lorican closed his eyes and breathed in the familiar scent of hot klah,
trying to think of nothing. It was early, but the dining hall was
already bustling with crafters and dragonriders, preparing for another
day of work at the Weyrhold. The cheerful atmosphere should have lifted
his spirits, but his body ached from the bruises he'd earned in last
night's training with Lusilk and his nerves were on edge. Every time he
saw an unfamiliar man, he wondered. Was this the one who was coming for him?

He let his mind wander. If he didn't focus too much on the conversations
around him, it wasn't hard to imagine himself back in the dining cavern
at Dolphin Cove. Unconsciously, his free hand drifted to his chest, the
place where Urlene's ring rested, hidden by his shirt and tunic.

"Excuse me... Journeyman? Could I have a word?"

Lorican was jolted from his thoughts, and drew in a sharp breath as hot
klah spilled from his mug and splashed his hand. He'd not even heard the
man approach. **I've got to be more careful! Even here, with so many
people around.**

The speaker was wearing dragonrider's knots. For a moment, Lorican
started to relax, before he remembered that anyone could wear a set of
knots. From the little Lusilk had told him, he knew the one she spoke of
was capable of far worse than impersonating a dragonrider. There was no
scar, though, and there was something familiar about his face. Suddenly,
he recognised the rider who'd brought him back from Dolphin Cove, that
day when he'd left the letter for Urlene.

Although this man wasn't dangerous, they'd not parted on good terms, and
Lorican looked up at him warily. To his surprise, the brownrider was
regarding him without any hostility. He even looked rather abashed.

"C'farl, rider of Oluath. I suppose you remember me?"

"Yes, of course." He remembered that day clearly, and felt the shame and
embarrassment wash over him again at how his stupidity had put a
dragon's life at risk. "Look, I can't tell you how sorry I am about
that. I was an idiot, I wasn't thinking. I never meant - "

C'farl held up a hand, then took a seat opposite Lorican. "No, it's me
who should apologise. I shouldn't have spoken to you like that."

The smith looked at him, astonished. "But I distracted you."

"Doesn't matter. You're not a dragonrider; how were you to know how
/between/ works? If it was anyone's fault, it was mine," the bluerider
went on, firmly. "I should have checked properly that you were ready to
go /between/ before Oluath made the jump, and shards, we're supposed to
be able to do it while fighting Thread, which is far more distracting
than any passenger, I can tell you. I hope you'll forgive me for putting
your life at risk and then blaming you for my own carelessness."

"Yes, of course, but I still..."

"Good. Of course, when I got back, fuming, and told my weyrmate all
about it, she and Oluath made me see sense. I should have said so
sooner, only I've had a hard time tracking you down. They must be
working you smiths hard." C'farl grinned. Now he was in a calmer mood,
he had the kind of easy, forthright manner that smoothed over any
lingering awkwardness from their previous encounter. "Between Master
Bilpen's schedule and that weyrmate of yours, it's lucky I caught up
with you at all."

"Uh..." He felt his cheeks warm.

"I didn't say anything to my Wingleader, by the way. He'd most likely
have chewed me out for the way I acted too, otherwise. Feel free to ask
for transport when you need it. In fact, I'll take you to Dolphin Cove
myself if you want. What did you need to go back for so badly, anyway?"

For a brief moment, Lorican's heart lifted, then swiftly sank again. The
risk to Urlene was too great for him to return. And by now, it must be
far, far too late to explain himself to her. C'farl was looking at him
expectantly, so he managed a half-smile. "It doesn't matter. I, uh,
forgot something. But thank you all the same."

Fortunately, the dragonrider didn't seem too interested. "Well, at least
let me buy you a drink some time, Lorican. You look like you could do
with some time off to relax. You were half asleep back there. This
evening, after dinner?"

"Thanks, I..."

"Then it's settled. If you can tear yourself away from the Headwoman's
assistant for one evening. Reminds me of when Danue and I first moved in
together. Our wingmates hardly saw us for a month." He winked, but
luckily didn't linger over Lorican's blush. "We riders have been meaning
to get to know you crafters better, since we're all living here
together. Danue's seen your work. She's a technician, works on the
generators. Said your pieces are well made and precise, and she doesn't
say that often about smiths. Bit of a perfectionist. Don't tell her I
said that. She'd like to meet you, anyway."

"I'd like that," Lorican said. He'd been curious about what happened to
his work after it was shipped off to the technicians, and even more
interested to talk to dragonriders. Their lives, centred on their
mysterious bond, were so very different to anything he'd known before.
And in the crowded dining hall, he'd be safe enough. "I can't stay late,
though."

C'farl threw back his head and laughed. "No, I understand. That woman is
formidable!"

**You don't know the half of it.** Lorican wondered, mortified, whether
the story of how he'd emerged from the woods with Lusilk, his tunic
ripped almost in half across the chest, had spread through the whole
Weyrhold.

Fortunately, the dragonman didn't seem inclined to linger over
embarrassing topics for long. He glanced over his shoulder, seeing that
others were starting to rise from their tables and clear away the
breakfast things. "Well, I'll let you get to your work. Until tonight."

"Good flying," Lorican said, hoping that was the polite response, and
watched as the man strode confidently away towards whatever duties
awaited him. He ought to hurry, too. Daylight was starting to creep in
through the windows, and he didn't want to be late. His heart was
lighter, now, and he was eager to get to the smithy. Despite all his
other troubles, at least he hadn't offended the riders who protected
them all.

**Now I just have to learn to fight well enough to survive this
assassin, discover who sent him after me and why, earn my Master's knots
and find some way to make amends to Urlene,** he thought. Well, the
first step to all that was to get himself over to the forge. He drained
the rest of the klah and stood, stretching his arms and feeling the last
night's bruises twinge. Hard work was the best way to forget them, along
with everything else he faced.

Last updated on the May 31st 2020

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No Hard Feelings