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 Posted: Wed Mar 18, 2009 9:21 am
Teroll hopped lightly from rock to rock, looking for a solitary place to play. It was mid-afternoon, and he'd just gotten up for the day. Since he worked the night shift, and the other two drummers each worked a section of the daytime, there was always someone sleeping in the tower, which basically made it impossible to practice. The two older men were long-worn drummers who did not sing or play any other instruments (at least not anymore). They had minimal passion for music, and tended to avoid conversations about anything save for the weather, who was shacking up with whom in the Weyr and other bits of gossip heard from the drum chain.
Terroll refused to turn into that. Even if he was a drummer, and proud of it, he didn't want to ignore everything else he'd learned from his years at the Harper Hall. He loved music deeply, especially the more complex and epic pieces. And while he had no true faculty for proper solo work, he took private joy in having range enough (and falsetto enough) to sing most epic ballads, which he did each night while he waited for drum messages.
Picking his way to the edge of the weyrbowl, where the rocks looking out towards the sea were long smoothed by wind and surf. The sea was some distance away, but filled the expanse of his sight, and hit his nostrils in a pleasant way. The sea breeze ruffled his hair, and Terroll closed his eyes, enjoying.
Lifting his twin pipes to his lips, he took a controlled breath and let a note soar out into the air, then another. Tapping his foot against the rock to keep time, he began to play as he felt led. He played a song of the majesty of this new home of his, filled with the sounds of the sea.
He felt himself lean slightly into the tuning he'd created about the Touching. While it was written for guitar, the haunting and reverent melody transferred easily to the Pipes, the twisted and nervous harmonies something complex for his fingers. He diddled a little taking note that the dissonance of the nerves he felt on that day coming to head in a bright major third...it was too pat. No, he needed more of that open raw sound.
Moving along, he pushed the dissonance of the two notes, now a minor third, then a cruel minor seventh, he felt the notes bite at the wind, fighting it and making a vicious sound, not harsh, but malevolent, and dark. He took his lips from the pipes, now singing random notes in the order of his thoughts, his boots stamping the rock and hands slapping his leather-bound legs, as he called out - now his mind locked on his own personal fear of the upcoming hatching. He'd been told of the dangers, and while that was part of it, he was truely scared of what it would be to have a dragon mind touching his. It was supposed to be joyous, but Terroll was such a private person. To be so open with anyone or anything was terrifying.
He brought his pipes to his lips, working out this new melody with a basic harmony - nearly monotone, barely traveling more than a third up or down. He found he could make his thoughts more plain with such a reduced sound. He blew with a snarl to his embrasure, making the sound harsh. Yes, it will be something strange - should he impress. Would the dragon judge him? Think him petty? Would he change? Or would the dragon somehow fit into his world, a unique and perfect addition?
Playing again, the Touching tune, Terroll ran the thoughts over his mind. All the dragonriders he knew were unique, and many flawed. Certainly, certainly, a dragon couldn't ruin him. It was too strange, too far off and foreign. He rocked his head from side to side as he played his tune. It was soothing to get these notes out. He closed his eyes and let the music fly from his lips. Each note flying into the wind to be taken who knows where.
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Posted: Thu Mar 19, 2009 8:47 am
Ennrik rushed as he made his way through the corridors of the Weyr until he came to the one he was looking for, which would take him to the edge of the Weyrbowl. The heights appealed to him, and he would have gone to the drumheights more often to converse with the drummers there, but he'd had precious few dealings with drummers, and after greeting them initially upon his discovery of the place he'd quickly decided that they were too far removed from what it meant to be a Harper anymore. It had taken him about four days of explorations to find the drumheights, and another two to find this passage. To his knowledge he was the only Candidate that knew of it. But then, as far as he knew, he was the only Candidate who had continued to explore after his first sevenday at the Weyr.
By mid-afternoon Candidates were supposed to be about their chores, now that mornings had been taken over by lessons. Ennrik was dutiful about attending lessons, but he was somewhat less dutiful about chores. He made sure they were done before the end of the work period, but that didn't mean he did them immediately, and other times he rushed through them to finish early. It was the only way he could steal time to himself to practice. Well. He could also wake up early and stay up late, and he did both of those things anyway, but it could hardly compare to the sheer volume of time he spent in rehearsal at Harper Hall. He swore he could feel himself losing proficiency.
He had finished his chores early in this instance, being that they were simple - sorting spare pieces of tack and harness by type. He knew that it was also acting with some subtlely as a lesson in dragon harnesses, but he still harbored a great many doubts that the information would prove useful to him. How could a dragon Impress on someone who was already making plans for what they would do when they were no longer a Candidate? It seemed to him that any dragonet would sense that his heart was not really in it, when it came to Impression, and would shy away from someone like him.
There were a lot of solitary places Ennrik could go when he wanted to practice, but today he wanted to see the sky. The lessons in the depths of the Weyr didn't bother him as they seemed to bother other Candidates, but he was still accustomed to being able to see the sky on a regular basis, and occasionally felt an irrepressible urge to be outdoors, under the sun. He liked the out of doors, and missed engaging in some of the sports he'd played with his agemates. The Weyr might claim there was recreation time, but no one seemed to want to do anything recreational. If even one person had offered to start a game of disc-toss, for instance, he would have foregone practice for that leisure period. Well, he needed the practice, anyway.
He heard the sounds of someone playing an unfamiliar tune on the pipes almost immediately. Someone who had either received training in composition, or who had an innate talent for it. He was more inclined to go with the former, since the majority of untrained players he knew were not up to the level of composing their own pieces. The tune itself didn't really appeal to Ennrik, but it was very emotionally charged, which was another reason he suspected the player had training. There were lots of Harper-trained Candidates, but, again, he didn't think any of them knew of this place.
Ennrik picked his way over the rocks, moving with great care, as he was not overly familiar with this place and a misstep could be calamitous. Shortly he found a place where he could sit comfortably and see the other player, whom he now recognized as Journeyman Terroll. He, too, carried pipes, having decided that perching on the edge of the Weyrbowl was not an ideal way to practice on the guitar, and so after listening for a while and getting a feel for the unfamiliar piece, he raised the pipes to his lips and added his own harmonies to the tune, adding a staccato bassline that was more to get Terroll's attention than to contribute to the piece itself. Clearly the piece was composed from Terroll's feelings, and Ennrik's probably wouldn't mesh well if he was to begin playing his feelings similarly.
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Posted: Thu Mar 19, 2009 2:42 pm
Terroll's eyes flashed open, his cheeks ablaze with color, his piping stopping immediately. For a very brief second he thought the younger boy might have been mocking him - in which case, Terroll would have to send him howling back where he came from. Having been a senior apprentice for 4 turns had turned him into a no-nonsense sort of person. And also one who was more than content with asserting himself physically.
But even as that furious tiny thought flittered by him Terroll saw more clearly what was in the boy's eyes. He, too, was looking for a place to play.
Terroll grinned immediately, and gestured to a rock across from him, indicating that the boy sit. He cleared his throat. "Gave me a start, you did." He rubbed his well-worn pipes with his thumbs, his fingers covering the holes neatly.
Terroll attempted to dredge up the other Harper's name, and managed "Enik, wasn't it? I'm terrible with names." He laughed at himself. "Come, sit for a spell. I hope I didn't bother you with my horrible tuning. Drummers aren't composers."
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Posted: Sat Mar 21, 2009 5:03 am
For an instant Ennrik regretted making the entrance he had. It had not been his intention to startle the Journeyman. Well. Maybe it had, a little, but he had serious doubts about the wisdom in doing so as it occurred to him what might have happened had their positions been reversed: Ennrik, not used to being snuck up on, probably would have jumped out of his skin, which, in this setting, would likely have sent him plummeting into the Weyrbowl. If he was lucky he'd just break a lot of bones. He hated having broken bones.
"Sorry, Journeyman Terroll," Ennrik said, using the young man's official title. "I'm glad I didn't startle you off the edge. It didn't occur to me when I joined in that it was a possibility."
He couldn't remember whether Terroll was a Candidate or not. He thought he might be but since the Harper had separate quarters and was not assigned to any of the chores which were usually used to keep Candidates busy until the Hatching, it was difficult to say for certain. He knew why Terroll was separate, of course: he was a Harper assigned to the Weyr, and he had duties to his Craft that he had to fulfill. Almost Ennrik wished he had been more forthcoming about his own Harpering abilities. He might have gotten out of some more hand-damaging chores.
He moved cautiously over the rocks to sit closer to Terroll. Perhaps if he had more time later he would do more exploring in this place so that he could move with more nimble familiarity over the stones, but for the moment, with recent thoughts of a long fall in his mind, he was careful. Which wasn't usually how he did things like this, being something of a show-off when it came to sports and feats of derring-do.
"Close," he said as he settled into his new position. "Ennrik. And it was interesting to listen to you tuning. You put a great deal of emotion into your works. I was impressed."
With his accidental word choice his brain made a connection it had not previously: "And that was what you were thinking of as you played, wasn't it? Impression? Your thoughts on it. You're a Candidate, right?"
My, aren't you the inquisitive one, he thought to himself, with a bit of a sneering edge. Ask him some more questions. Then he won't be able to answer these either.
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