Name: Tarrilon Erikson; note that he and Toylon would have the same elided name, so his will be T'arri (not that they keep those named on Alskyr)
Gender: Male
Age: currently 40ish
Origin: Blackstone-Dawnlight
Family: the Eriksons! Fraternal twin sister Carrilon
Other Relations: has twin children Lirric and Litra with Caitlin Carna
Height: 6'
Build: sturdy, even
Hair: short, curly, blue on top, black on the bottom - unlike how it says in the story below, this is a natural cut, unique to the Erikson line... the colors however are Blackbottom goo inspired
Eyes: bright blue, matching his hair
Appearance: peaches and cream skin, heavy on the peach, with a heart-shaped face and high brows; high Brown caste with Admin bronze rank

With as large a family as Tarrilon has, you would think they'd branch out a little more in their pursuits... Or stick to just one field. Well, Tarrilon has gone after a Harper's badge with pride.

As a helper around the Hold for his youth, Tarrilon was rewarded with lessons that other children didn't often get. Higher math and skills such as fine writing, histories of family lines, and the like.

Tarrilon has little skill with a gitar, and has a fairly weak singing voice -- so weak that he's never really qualified himself to sing anywhere in front of an audience. His voice is soft and quiet, and he's got rotten pitch. His concentration therefore has always been numbers and information. He learned to record events in a quick shorthand writing, and he apparently has a nearly photographic memory!

Diligent as he was, Tarrilon was still found often enough with the sort of crowd that the current Lord Holders really didn't get along with -- those BlackBottoms!

Because of that, the moment that Tarrilon started shaving the rest of his hair and dyeing the top of it blue, he was almost completely forgotten in the Harper's studies.

Angered at this, but left with little choice but to leave the Hold and join some other potential craft... Tarrilon turned to Blackstone Weyr.

The best thing he's ever done for himself.

***

"He's going to remain a Harper, then?" E'rikk asked of the Blackstone master harper. The older man nodded. "Good. But we can't have him back at the Hold, then?"

"No, th' Harper there is under Lord Deon's thumb hard enough. I wouldn't want him getting squished even more because of this boy. Besides," the elderly man looked at the bobbing blue hair of the 17 turn old lad outside his office, "he's got better things to do than to listen to that guff he's going to get back at Dawnlight."

Smiling broadly, E'rikk saluted the master harper and went out to collect his son. "Tarri," he said, "you're going to be a Harper after all."

The boy's bright yellow-green eyes lit up as they had when he was first brought to the Weyr. "It'll be an honor serving you, sir," he said to the master, who waved him away with a grin on his aged face.

Excited, Tarrilon paced about. "Wait till I tell -- oh, she's in the Hold... Or..." his mood sunk quickly when he realized that all his friends were still in the Hold, and still in the hold's crafthall. Where he was apparently no longer needed. "Shards, father, I wish I could even..."

"You'll be able to visit with no problem, just you keep your work up here. As good as it was at the Hold, right?"

"Yes sir!" Tarrilon saluted and then laughed with his father as they went through the stone halls.

Blackstone weyr had its share of staff and drudges, but it had a fine hall anyway. Along with it, of course, there were rooms that were suited for Lords and Ladies, which sometimes got used for just the common folk. In this case, Tarrilon was matched with three other young men who were in crafts about the Weyr.

***

His room then, was rather louder than he expected it to be, when he got back one evening. The three guys -- two wood crafters and a metal smith -- had been drinking heavily before he got there. They were still drinking heavily.

"'cmere'n'avesome!" slurred one of them, waving his hand and spilling wine around. There was already a large puddle where they'd dropped something and made little attempt to clean it up.

"Guys... shards. I can't believe this... Look at this mess!" Tarrilon raised his voice, and the wood crafters perked up. Angrily, one of them tried to stand but he barely made it upright at all.

"Lissen'ere..." he started, but Tarrilon snapped at him.

"No, you listen! You've all done nothing but drink and carouse and bring back -- well, some admittedly *fine* women -- but you've just got to learn to STOP some time! You're not passing any of your craft exams, you're not even trying!"

"But't'sa free ride, innit?" Said the smithy. "An'yameantasay tha' you 'arpers don' party?"

"Oh, I party all right," Tarrilon said, stuffing a clean shirt and change of pants into a satchel with some other sundries, "I party just fine. Just not here. Not around you three."

"Wha'abou'cher Blackbottomz?" Demanded the angry one, "They're th' party center!"

"They also manage to become craft Masters and weyr leaders," Tarrilon shot back, "so CHAR them and you and your drinks!"

He stomped out of the weyr, making sure that there was nothing of value to him near their area. He almost bolted down the hall, but then slowed when he reached the bathing chambers. Central to the Weyr, and a breath taking sight in and of themselves, the bathing area was a place where he could still relax, and not get kicked out for sleeping.

He was rather surprised to hear, "and what brings you here, Tarri lad?" His master harper was resting with a heavy towel over his waist and a book (a real book) beside him. He watched the younger man with his curious deep brown eyes.

"Ah, my weyrmates are... just too loud. I'm so tired of them ruining my peace and quiet! They're not even trying for their badges any more, they're never going to become Journeymen, I don't know why the Weyr even tolerates them!"

"Ach, well, perhaps they've all got their reasons, lad." The master said, and patted the stone seat nearby. "Unload your things, relax a bit. Tell me this lad, why did you not chase them out of the weyr yourself?"

Tarrilon looked at the aged man and grimaced. "Because I've known for a very long time that three against one are very poor odds. Even three extremely drunk against one of me... They're crafters, big guys. You've seen them."

"Aye..." He nodded slowly. Then the old man chuckled. "Why d'ye think I come here? Y'think I'd be used to the little woman's ranting by now... Thirty five turns..."

Tarrilon chuckled himself. They rested in silence, the master going back to his book, and Tarrilon bundling a towel beneath his head and taking a little nap. He woke abruptly when he heard voices.

"And it's this next sevenday? Is he sure?"

"It's always like this. The queens never just come out and tell you when your eggs are going to hatch! It's so frustrating!"

The pair of people, one male and one female, stopped talking when they noticed they were not alone. But the old harper merely smiled at the girl, and nodded to the man. Tarrilon on the other hand sat up and tried making himself look slightly less rumpled.

The girl looked at him oddly.

"What is it, Kistra?" Asked her companion.

"It's... him. My Lilanth says she wants to meet him."

It didn't take a genius to realize what she was talking about. Tarrilon stood up and offered them seats. "So... you're... a search rider?" He said, and his master slumped with a broad grin, behind his book.

"Yes, for Night Storm Weyr . New place. But it's got a good strong clutch on the sands. Queen Cherrinith has laid a beautiful clutch for us."

"So... your dragon ... wants to see me?" Tarrilon said, and the rider, Kistra apparently, laughed.

"Yes, she does, but she'll have to wait. I've got a long day ahead of me tomorrow, so you can just be ready with the other candidate potentials outside in the morning. Tonight is for me..." She grinned, and slipped into the bath nearby without a sound more.

***

Turned out, tonight wasn't the night. It never was, and Tarrilon was taken back to Blackstone somewhat sad. Sometimes, they told him, places just... vanished. Stopped, or up and moved.

The Protectorate was going to do that. He wasn't aware of it, but there were whispers about it - had he been able to sort through it all, he'd know what was happening behind the curtain. And it was his intellect and keen mind that attracted the attention of other riders, eventually. It came in the form of the last clutch on those old sands at Alabaster Weyrhold. When all was said and done, however, it was sad to see that several hatchlings went without their riders. They had been there before, at the hatching itself... But for whatever reason the dragonets were left by those people. Several of them wound up going to the Healing Den, but some would pine away.

Except.

That they didn't. It was likely a combination of H'lis and Engel's judgement about the matter, but it was certainly better to have dragons become bonded than to die on the sands - or at any stage of their lives, really. H'lis, wily as he was, determined that one of the Eriksons would be just right for a small and formerly-sure bronze. His person, his one, vanished along with others, but if they pulled this off just right, Tarrilon could move in before the dragon really knew what happened.

"Sagasuth," Tarrilon breathed, from the side of the sands. It was warm, but nearly midnight now, and the abandonlings were being watched, just in case their first riders returned.

They did not - and when Tarrilon whispered that name, the dragon bearing it raised his head, angry eyes. Who are - you... are you for me? I will be for you.

The records would show a different name, for a time. And slowly that name would be replaced, T'arri instead.

*

Sometimes I wonder what happened, the bronze bespoke. But then I remember that this is the only way it's ever been, you and me.

Tarrilon knew that was not quite the whole truth. He could deeply see into the dragonet's memories, as they were all but burned into the little one's mind on the sands that night. He even knew the words that had been spoken between that last person and him, but Tarrilon scratched the bronze's shoulder and let a wave of reassurance tumble between them. "We've had a good day, haven't we?"

I liked fighting Thread, but I like fighting Ants more, you can scare them.

"I suppose that's good," Tarrilon chuckled, "but I don't really want to fight either of them when we have the choice to let others do that work. It's messy, isn't it?"

Messy can be fun, you like to be messy with that green rider, don't you?

Tarrilon's already pink skin grew very, very ruddy indeed.

*

They had moved with the Weyr, with the Weyrhold, with the Hold... To this place, while Sagasuth was still young. Too young to really be able to help, but most of those who did the work made it seem effortless. Tarrilon knew it wasn't, the way that the dragons who had all but lifted a whole mountain to take it through time and space talked to his own. Tarrilon made the effort to put what they said into words, and kept writing until H'lis approached him about it.

"I will want you to be our records keeper, you know that right?" The bronze dragons were disparate, Sagasuth was never going to be a huge dragon, but he was still at least as big as the typical browns around here. Synesth was too big to be considered normal, either way. The pair of men watched as the big one pretended to swipe at the smaller one's tail, and Sagasuth jumped into the air - they would go fishing. It was a good life.

"I do now?" Tarrilon said, eyebrows up like they always seemed. "It... feels like you're about to say something else though." H'lis would have normally had to hush the rider, who habitually thanked him every time they met up, even now, four years later.

"I do have more to say, yeah," H'lis said, "though maybe it can wait, it looks like your little guy has his claws full down there..."

The dragons had dragged up a massive fish, one which was still putting up a bit of a fight. It would certainly make for a great dinner!

dragon - Bronze Sagasuth; mother Gold Diamoth, father Brown Lilioth; originally impressed to a Pelar protectorate man, abandoned as hatchling; this dragon would have been a much different personality but is more introverted and far less sure of himself than his hatchling self.