Candidate Bessa

Bessa's story. (©SunBlind)

A pile of pots and pans came crashing down off the shelf, the noise almost defeaning. Quickly Bessa did her best to replace them before anyone noticed. But how could they not have noticed that! She had only gotten two of them back on the shelf when the head cook walked in.

"Bessa!" she exclaimed as she looked at the mess. Bessa prepared herself for the a listing of all her failings faults, listed in a loud and shrieking voice. She had actually memorized them all by now. When the cook was done Bessa went back to putting pots and pans back on the shelf. When she was done she realized that the one she wanted was still up there. Reaching up on tip-toe on the chair, she stretched for the smallish pot off to the side. As her fingers grasped the handle she pulled to pot closer. Once more knocking a not very well balanced pile of pots and pans off the shelf. Again.

"Bessa! OUT!" shrieked the cook. Bessa was only too happy to comply. She ran down the Weyr's tunnels until she found her secret spot in an area that few people went. She wasn't sure how much more she could stand this. The cook made her nervous, and when she got nervous, she got clumsy. She could walk through the a Master Craftsman's room of delicate glass things and not knock anything over, but the moment the cook showed up. Bessa shuddered. Like it wasn't bad enough that she was, well, slightly plump with curly brown hair.

She had worked in the kitchen of the Craft Hall for most of her life. First with her mother, than when she was chosen to become an apprentice herself, with the new head cook. She missed her mother, even though she came to visit often. But now she was a journeywoman, so Bessa didn't see her much at all. She never knew her father, not that that ever bothered her. She rarely put a thought to it. Except that he form must be from his side of the family. Her mother was beautiful and thin with long flowing black hair.

Hearing a sound, Bessa curiously followed the sounds to a door that lead outside. Usually kept locked since people didn't want to be bothered with remembering to close it during Threadfall, she flipped the latch and stepped out into what should have been bright sunshine. Instead she bumped the door against something soft, but not very giving. The shadows got darker. Then the head appeared.

Bessa screamed and pulled the door shut. Panting, she could hear deep wuffling sounds through the door. She thought for a moment. She opened the door and bumped the nose of the dragon who was trying to find out why she was making such a commotion. He grunted in protest.

"Sorry, oh I'm sorry. I didn't mean to do that." She reached out and rubbed him where the door had hit him. His soft blue hide was warm and smooth beneath her hand and she could feel his breath against her face. ~It didn't hurt~ she heard in her mind. Startled, she stepped back.

Another form appeared in the doorway. It was the rider. Bessa blurted, "He spoke to me!"

"Who, Moonvith here? He only does that to really special people, right my friend." The dragon's eyes swirled as he spoke to the rider. "He thinks you should be a candidate. Would you like that?"

"Who, me?"

J'layle nodded. "Sure, why not. You'd make a fine rider, a girl built as strong as you."

Bessa blushed and nodded. "Yes, I would like to very much."

"Then come along. There's still some slots open at ????"

And so Bessa left the head cook to deal with dinner all on her own.

Rider: Bessa