Triia's Pages - originally written around 2000

A very tall and very skinny woman of 19 turns, Triia is about 6 feet tall (yes, amazing!) and has very little fat on her bones. She has fair skin with small scars from working. Her hair is fluffy and orange, tumbling in waves to her high back. She has small, intense amber colored eyes. Her face is long and oval, with expressive eyebrows.

Triia is a natural leader, the type of person who gives orders and uses whatever resources are at her command. However, unlike many others who have these skills, she makes the people below her feel like they are doing her a personal favor, for which they're going to be rewarded. She does in fact give her friends the greatest of support, and she is clearly cut out for both Hold and Weyr leadership. Her voice is soft but her words can sometimes be quite hard. No one ever doubts what she says, though she is young she speaks with authority.

As a child, Triia was brought up in a Hold. However, her situation changed during threadfall. Her parents were not high on the Lord Holder's list of friends, nor were the tithes that were rarely sent to the local Weyr. The Weyr did what they could but since the Hold wasn't keeping up, parts of it were decimated by Thread. Triia's parents took her away, into the hills, where they began traveling. She had been given a rudimentary Healers education, and has always had compassion for those injured, but she never got to complete any of that education. She has skills found in the holdless folk, hunting and survival, but also always takes advantage of being in a Hold or Weyr.

Everyone commented on the sunlit yellow dragon which descended onto the Weyr's bowl. The palest of golds, touched with glistening yellow.

And on her back? Flame orange-red hair tumbled from a riding helmet. It was Triia, back from her stint at Gallimim Weyr.

Though unannounced, her arrival prompted several dragons at Blackstone to bespeak for their riders.

What is her name? Who are you? Where have you come from?

The pale gold dragon gave a chuckle.

I am gold Chvehath, and my rider as many are supposed to know, is Triia of the Protectorate. I am afraid that my clutch was very small, and I have few clutchmates. But Triia says to me that I will be welcome.

That is true! Bespoke a Brown, followed by several Bronzes. The weyr needs strong females and you look like you will have a good flight some day.

Soon enough, Chvehath reminded her rider as she got off. I shall be ready to fly.

"You just be sure that you're going to fly a proper male, Chve. I want a man around me who isn't a spoiled ex-holder or an accidental rider." She thought back to several of the odd riders she'd encountered at other weyrs: stuck up Holders sons and daughters, shy and scared drudges who'd managed to Impress, and the like. None of them in her opinion could match the wit, strength or appeal of a good weyr-bred man.

"Does that mean I'm out of the running?" Asked a tall slender man, and Triia rolled her eyes.

"You stay out of my head, Eton. You aren't even Impressed yourself yet. It will be years before you'll have a flight worthy dragon."

The blond man smiled. "But that never stopped you before," he said, sly.

Finally she laughed heartily, and took her friend's arm as he led her into the weyr.

***

Years later... It was true, E'tan had impressed and... in fact, flown Chvehath with his brown dragon. No one knew, of course.

But some months later, Triia gave birth to her own little clutch of one... Named Tandri.