(07.12. 2761) A Couple Of Stout Lads ( Attn: Rymeron / Ozmyr)

[mike hornsby]

If there was one lesson Ozmyr had learned in his brief time at the Weyr it was that when thread was falling there was plenty of work for everyone. It wasn't just the riders, though they obviously had the most important rule. There was also everyone who labored to support them and keep them in the air. Healers stood ready to tend the wounded, reserve riders stood ready should they be needed to take wing and a small army of workers stood ready with firestone and other supplies.

It was in this later group that Ozmyr found himself in today. One of the riders had found him and another candidate, Rymeron by name, and said they needed a couple of stout lads to carrt more firestone. Apparently it was a bad fall and they were going through it more quickly then expected. The young smith didn't care so much which job he was assigned so long as he was able to help out.

Now, standing by a huge mound of firestone he and Rymeron hefted the bags as they were filled by others and loaded them on to a waiting wagon. Other wagons waited to be filled and carried to the rally point. It looked like this might be an all day job for the two of them.

"Have you been here long?" he asked the older fellow. Might as well make some small talk as they worked. "I've only been here for a little while but it seems there is always something happening."

[Allison Herzig]

Rymeron was perfectly happy to have been set to heaving firestone.  Better than doing at hidework, at any rate, or cleaning latrines or changing bandages or any of a half dozen other tasks they made for 'em at the weyr.  Plus, he was a pretty fecking good lifter, if he did say so himself, we didn't hurt.

"Got here a little before the last Hatching," Rymeron grunted as he heaved another sack onto the cart, "And yeah, it's busy.  Seems everyone 'round here actually likes having work to do or something.  Back home, we'd just chill for a bit, when everything was done.  But here, nah.  There's always more.  Where you from?  Craft, hall or weyr?"

Ozmyr, Rymeron thought he'd heard the Candidate's name was.  He was new.  But he didn't seem so bad.  Didn't whine, anyways.  Some of these kids couldn't even lift a flamethrower without asking for a freaking prize.  A miracle they got out to fight thread at all.

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[mike hornsby]

"Oh? So you were here for a hatching then?"

 

Ozmyr tried not to sound too eager as he said that. He desperately wanted to know what it was like to stand. It just seemed kind of rude to pester people about it though.

 

"My father is the smith in a tiny little Hold over in Southern," he replied then, "but I got searched while on the road with another Master Smith....kind of a long story."

 

Ozmyr rather doubted the other fellow would care too much for his personal trials and tribulations. Seemed best to just gloss over all that unless asked.

 

"Busy is good though. I never know what to do with too much free time. My name is Ozmyr by the way. Nice to meet you."

 

[Allison Herzig]

"Yeah, I was.  Rymeron," Rymeron said simply, offering Ozmyr a hand and a cocky grin between tosses, "And it was pretty sick.  I'd never seen a dragon that little before.  Didn't even know they came that small.  Don't know what I'd do with one that size, would be real worried 'bout crushing it or something...But I'll figure it out, I guess, once I get one."

Rymeron'd take real good care of it, little or not, until it got big.  And learned to breathe fire.  Rymeron REALLY wanted one that breathed fire.  Feck, he was glad he wasn't a girl, was practically guaranteed his'd be a fire-breather, once he got one.

"Nice to meet you too, Ozmyr," Rymeron continued, "Smithcraft, neat.  I'm a miner by breeding myself, but I'm gonna learn to smith one of these days.  Once the headwoman lets me off the chore rosters, I guess.  She don't believe me, when I say I'm gonna go and do something with myself.  Can't reckon why."

She'd only caught him napping once...And it had been less than a sevenday after the Hatching.  He'd be drunk.  Everyone got drunk sometimes, right?

 

--

[mike hornsby]

 
 "Dragons can be small?" he asked, heaving another sack up on to the wagon. It seemed like a dumb question even as he uttered it but Ozmyr had never considered that baby dragons would have to be small just as human infants were. Now that brought up a whole list of questions he supposed about what hatchlings must be like. Fortunately that would be covered in the candidate classes...or so he hoped. Not having been here too long Ozmyr hadn't had the full range of lessons yet.

"Kind of guess they would have to be though....small and helpless like a little baby. It's kind of neat though to think about...and how we would take care of them. You don't think they need burped like babies do you?"

With another heave he tossed another bag in the wagon.

"A miner eh? Always wondered what that must be like. I'll just stick with smithing though. There can be a lot to it....shards, you wouldn't believe the lessons I went through before I was allowed to pick up a hammer. There were so many months working the bellows that I thought I'd become a part of it."

[Allison Herzig]

"Feck, I hope not," Rymeron laughed, "They're not that small.  Don't think I'd be much good at burping one.  Never was good with kids...Shards, I hope they think older 'an they look.  Hope they can chew their own food, at least.  I don't think we'd be much help chewing it for 'em.  We'd just get sick, I guess."

Rymeron hadn't thought of that kind of stuff.  He'd just kind of figured they got a dragon and it ate stuff and talked to them and played and learned to fight thread.  He didn't have to clean its poop off it, did he?  He'd seen babies wet themselves before and cleaning up dragon shit was NOT what Rymeron had signed up for.

"I wanna learn how to Smith, one of these days," Rymeron added with a grin. "Bet I'm strong enough for it.  And yeah, mining's pretty sick.  I found a hunk of crystal once, real pretty.  Gave it to my girl, 'fore she left to go a-Harpering."

[mike hornsby]

Ozmyr couldn't help but chuckle at Rymeron's outburst. He had no idea what they might have to do for a baby dragon but whatever was required he knew that he would give it. The call of being a rider and having a dragon of his own had become a powerful driving force in the young smith's life.

"I don't know what we will have to do for them but could it really be all that bad? Besides, they don't take as long to grow up I hear. Not as long as a human child anyway."

His own experience with human babies hadn't exactly been comforting in that regard. Hopefully a baby dragon was easier than that!

"Smith work isn't just strength," he continued, hefting another bag on the wagon. "You have to learn how to run the forge and what each of the tools is for. Then you have to know the colors the metal has to get to in the fire before it can be worked. If you want to see a little of it one day though stop by the forge after we are done with our craft work period. I can show you the tools and such anyway."