"...you walked out of my dreams,
         and gave me your love,
         a precious, fragile dove,
         and to my heart..."

        It would seem? Deem? Teem? Damn.

        *Random, what do you think I should put there?*

        <Hmm?> Random raised his head, shifting his weight and forcing
Gerald to move. <I think one is as good as another.>

        Gerald put his harp down and leaned back against Random's side.
Above him, white cotton balls of cloud slowly marched across the sky,
oblivious to his problems. 

        *You're a lot of help. I wanted to get this finished before we
got back.*

        <You know very well that I can't help you.> The dragon twitched
with irritation. <I simply do not have the talent for music.>

        Gerald sighed. *I bet Kylan would do this much better.*

        <What does that matter? Does that mean that no one would enjoy
your song simply because Kylan didn't do it? Many dragons fly better than
me, does that mean we can't go anywhere?> Random's eyes whirled.

        *I guess you're right. It serves me right to have trouble, though.
If I really have the cheek to try and sing about love, I should expect
this.*

        <That's your fault. You need to find a mate.> Random's neck
twisted around, and Gerald was confronted eye to eye with his dragon's
huge green head. <It's not as if you haven't had plenty of opportunity.>

        *So you say. I just...have a little trouble, that's all.*

        <More than a little. I'm telling you, though, the interest is
there. Why just the other day, I was told that some of the female riders 
were discussing you, wondering if there was a connection between the
size of your hands and the size of your- >

        *Random!!*

        <The female riders are impressed with your height.>

        That was certinly possible, Gerald thought, as his height was 
impressive; he usually towered over a crowd. *I'd rather be known for 
my singing ability.*

        <Whatever. I think that all you need is...> The dragon broke off
and began a low, soft keening.

        *Random, what's wrong?*

        <Jenaladar's rider is dead.>

        *What?!?* The Warrenlady, dead? How could that be? Gerald could 
feel the anguish rising in him. He had talked to Velara many times...
she was the one who had decided to include him in the hatching, soon 
after he had arrived at the warren. She had always treated him as if
he were special, not just another dumb cartwright...

        *What happened?*

        <I don't know. Ohhhh, Jenaladar is gone.> The dragon resumed his
keening, head rocking from side to side.

        Gerald packed his things, then climbed onto Random's back. *Come
on, we've got to go back and see if we can do anything. I'm sorry, 
Random.*

        Random tensed his legs, then launched; powerful sweeps of his 
wings catapulted them quickly into the air. They rapidly diminished into
the distance...

        The clouds continued on, uncaring.
                        Allen E. Veazey
                        wolf@dbtech.net

     "I have made this letter longer than usual, only because
      I have not had the time to make it shorter."
                --Blaise Pascal, Provincial Letters