Fyrrieldur and Collins' Holiday at Lantessama Isle *

With the jingling and jangling that he was well known for, Fyrrieldur marched around the Healing Den with his head high and his wings open.

"I am going to Lantesssama Isle," he said, his typical lisp showing his Icarian heritage. Several dragons and their riders turned to look at him, curious.

"Why are you headed there? Got a sweetie?" Asked Collins, the metalsmith. He smiled as the big winged drak settled himself onto a stone perch and looked full of himself.

"No, not for a mate," Fyrrieldur said, "but for a bond... There isss a clutch for ssuch asss my type. Holiday." He nodded, and the bells on his neck rang pleasantly. He looked sideways at Collins. "You ssshould come along. There may be an egg for you."

MasterSmith Collins drew his shoulders back, they were well muscled from years of work in the forges of the Kshau Protectorate. Fyrrieldur watched as the burly and bearded human considered this.

"I could carry you," Fyrrieldur suggested. "I know how to ussse portalss very well."

"It's not that I don't trust you," the man said, "I ... aren't I a little old for that?" His voice was deep and merry, but had a high hint of some other emotion. Regret? Fear? Curiosity?

Collins' life had been a busy one, and that hadn't changed when he was transferred away from Pern, to Alskyr with the rest of the Protectorate. His job hardly changed, in fact. Just the locale was different. And the ranks he dealt with. Ever since being a young man, he had worked in a forge, first training with the smaller tools, then weight training with the bellows when he was big enough to pull them. He had a good eye for metals in flux, knowing each ore's melting temperature and being able to sense when the fires were hot or cool enough. And his skilled hands became more and more sure as he created items and weapons for the communities he served.

The master smith sighed, thinking. How many people he'd seen, working in the nearby mines or at the shops where he sold the forge's goods. Bartering for this or that, to make a sword or a special saddle. He was not a young man any more - but his strength would never fade so long as he lived here at the Healing Den. Perhaps that was why Engell had urged him to leave Alskyr's sunny shores for the eternal artificial lights and the strange static sky of the Nexus?

"It sure would be good to see the sun again," Collins finally stated. He nodded, and turned to the other human nearby. Fyrrieldur had only been at the Den a short while, but he recognized the actions of passing a temporary mantle of authority when he saw them. "Narlayne, you're in charge of things until we get back. I expect to see you finishing your projects by that time."

"You're a slave driver," Narlayne muttered, but saluted his master. "Until you return." The younger dark-skinned man leaned in to his burly instructor, "you really going to come back with a dragon? Aren't crafters supposed to hold off on bonding?"

"We're all able to bond here," Collins said cheerily. "Right Fyrr?"

The white-skinned drak nodded and his bells rang yet again. "You will need warm clothing, I do believe there iss ssnow on the ground at Lantesssama right now!" The drak insisted. Fyrrieldur waited as Collins retrieved some clothing and personal items. Proudly, the drak announced, "I need no sssuch thingss, I am well insssulated!"

Collins laughed loudly, his barrel chest bouncing - one might say he looked rather jolly! His white-grey beard and round cheeks added to that effect. He chose a dark red cloak, trimmed in white. Perhaps someone's idea of a joke - he looked just like Santa Claus.

It was not the first time that Collins had ridden upon a dragon - Bequet, the girl whose family owned part of a contested mine, who bonded a beautiful Opal Moon gold when she was searched, had flown him around at first for fun but then later as they transfered his forge to the Healing Den. But, flying on a dragon was one thing. A four-winged drak had a whole different motion to its flight!

They portaled out of the Healing Den and made note of the large snowflake over the wide curved entrance hall - it would be easy to orient on it and get back at "snowflake plus one hour" if they concentrated hard enough on remembering it. For a place without time, time seemed to mean a lot when leaving and entering.

When they arrived over the land of Lantessama... there was a brilliant kind of light coming from everywhere. At first Collins thought they'd broken through a cloud or somehow they were in a fancy afterlife - the light was so bright and so beautiful. But no, it was the shine of the sun on a fine coating of white snow that had fallen on the land! They circled above the tall peak, looked at the frozen lake below, the green-and-brown snow-dotted forests... The whole Isle was draped in a lovely cover of white. Admiring the view gave them a good idea of the lay of this three-peaked isle, but it also drew a chill into both drak and rider.

"I thought you said you were well insulated!" Collins laughed as he felt the shudder of the drak's skin - the bells jingled with the air but also with the occasional shivver.

"nnnnormally I am!" Fyrrieldur muttered, as they descended to the ground. "But thiss iss more than I remember! And the ssnow is crussted over - it'ss been overnight, ssince it fell."

With his head tilted, Collins asked, "how did you know that? We're not even landed yet."

"I can ssensse the windss and sseassonal changess," the drak announced. "Not like my normal sssiblingss. Here we are." He said, as they landed with the distinct jingling. Collins dropped to the ground and unexpectedly his boots were covered in snow - it was about six inches deep, not just a crust. The long white face of the drak moved into Collins' view again, "adjussst my bow," he whispered. "I think it came loosse as we flew."

Dutifully, Collins adjusted the red bow, and realized how silly this was. Here he was a grown man, a smith with decades of experience, straightening the ribbon on a floofy holiday drak. He laughed merrily, he couldn't hold it in any longer.

Someone on the ground, a small child with long yellow ears and large blue eyes, yelled, "it's SANTY CLAWS!" and bolted over to Collins, to cling to his legs. "Santyclaws! Santyclaws! I want a pony and a radiocontrolled motorcycle and a set of reanimating jars with zombie juice and a-"

"Saichu!" Yelled a woman.

"Bless you," Collins said, and Fyrrieldur gave a guffaw of sorts. The woman had brilliant white fur, the same color as the snow, but with blood red tips on her hair and ears - like the child, whose coloration was yellow, like that of the blond-haired human following the woman.

"Saichu, the man just got here. He probably wants to see the holiday eggs, so just leave him in peace, will you?" The rabbit-woman said, and glanced at Collins with an apology on her eyes. "He's just bonded his dragons, and now he thinks he's getting a pony. I do not think so little man," she chided as they walked away. "And what was that about the zombie juice! You know your father doesn't want you reanimating anything until you're older."

Collins heard the child's whining, "but mo-om!" and laughed further.

The drak and smith finally found their way to the holiday clutch bowl, and signed up. This might just be what he'd needed, and the drak was certain that he was going to find something of interest at the clutch.

When the holiday spirit moved Lantessama Isle, it certainly did so with gusto. The place was still decorated from celebrations, but the main buildings weren't where the hatching was going to take place. They were all led out to the chillier realm nearby, where both Fyrrieldur and Collins were happy to stand in the sunlight.

It was hardly a chilly place, Lantessama Isle.

But it was good enough for the eggs - A couple of which were already swaying and showing webbed cracks. Everyone watched closely and then a small holly colored white-winged dragonet fell from his egg. He swaggered up to Collins.

"Collins, my name is Noroth," he stated while standing on Collins' leg. He was strong, heavy, and Collins smiled widely at the dragon's assertion.

"Did you want to come with me?" Collins asked the dragonet, who nodded. "Yes. But maybe we should eat something for the long trip."

He chuckled, and nodded, bringing the holiday dragon off the sands.

There were another bunch of breaking eggs, which Fyrrieldur watched with interest. After all, he was the reason Collins was there to bond! He was proud, but also he wanted to find his bond!

Some truly interesting dragons broke shell, but they all passed beside Fyrr to their friends or their sponsors. A female of green and white coloration looked around when there were only a couple bonders left. She went up to Fyrrieldur and proudly told him, "I am Stylla, I like you."

"I like you too," Fyrr purred. Though he was a drak and not a dragon, and therefore his mental connection to his bond might be less active than most dragons, he could still feel her hunger. They went to find Collins and his bond Noroth, and congratulate one another!

But that wasn't all. There were two little viny-creatures following the pair back into their dens!

Collins turned to see a small flower ... thing... tugging at his pantleg. "Well," he chuckled, "who are you?" Though it couldn't speak, the little Fazzle (which was what they were called) waved and wrapped itself around his wrist, as they left. "Little Lisette," he said.

"Mine isss called a Knol," Fyrrieldur announced of his own little tree like creature, which lodged itself into Fyrr's mane.

***

"What is that thing still doing in your fur?" Asked Stylla of Fyrr as they made their way back to the Healing Den. Since Fyrr was big enough to carry everyone, they made their way back rather quickly - enjoying what little snow there was to be had on a kind of freak storm day, and then returning to the Den.

It didn't take long for the holiday dragons to grow to their full size, but they did enjoy a lot of trips out to the winter lands where the Den could take them. They frolicked in the snow, and thought it was lots more fun than the cement corridors of the Den.

"I know you'd like to get back to a real world," Collins said to his burly Noroth, "I have a forge to run, too - and it's got a portal right to my den here," he indicated the black draped corner of his office. "Do you want to go there?"

"I have always wanted to!" Said the strongly muscled green and white male. "Is Stylla coming with us?"

"And Fyrr, I think," Collins said. "But they're taking the long way around."

Noroth looked into the draped area, and pulled his nose out. "It's very cold, much colder than I thought!"

"It's going to be a hard trip, little flower," Collins said to the Fazzle who still rested comfortably in a pot, rarely traveling around any more. But it indicated that yes, it would like to come with too.

"Let usss go!" Bellowed Fyrr, and Collins heard laughter as the drak and his dragoness companion blinked out from the Den's flight dome.

.