Worry lines creased Tinker's face as he hustled his bustle to follow 
Eleanora over strange ground. He felt no small amount of guilt over the 
fact that his brilliantly stupid idea had made both Eleanora and her dragon 
feel bad. There was a sour, raw taste in the back of his throat that he 
knew too well; he always got it when someone got hurt by one of his "good 
ideas".

Kicking himself mentally with every step he took, he skidded to a halt with 
the two ladies near Cara... and Tinker's worrymeter snapped the needle off 
as it pegged on the far right. No one had told him that Eleanora's dragon 
was so... big.

Time passed in a blur as the deaf woman - another twinge, this time on his 
insensitivity to her handicap - talked with, stroked, and soothed her 
beast. He was there but not there, his thoughts a swirl of confusion 
amplified by the fear reflex that he was trying, even now, to rationalize 
out of his system. What he could do, he decided, was try to be useful and 
atone for his ill-considered actions; that thought became deed as he 
perceived a need for light, and went to retrieve a lantern.

[ snip author=Katrina title="I've Got a Headache THIS Big..." ]

She turned to pace back, but this time the light didn't go with her. Tinker 
was standing stock-still, the light still held above his head, illuminating 
his face clearly.  His face wore that same abstracted look as when he had 
thought to ask Cara to share her hearing with Eleanora. She took a step 
back toward him and gently tugged at his sleeve. "Tinker? Are you still in 
there?"

He blinked in surprise and stared at her for a moment.  "Better light out 
here," he murmured.  "I can do that.  I'm sure of it."  He dashed away, 
only to hurry back and hand her the lamp. As he turned to leave again, 
Eleanora noticed that the worry that had distorted his features only 
moments earlier was gone - lost in the rush to discovery.

[ /snip ]

Tinker's awareness of the outside world faded even more than his view of it 
did when he stepped out of range of the lantern he'd left with Eleanora. 
Only a well-honed autopilot ability run by one of the few parts of his 
brain not concentrating on the subject of his thoughts kept him from 
running into or stumbling over any of myriad obstacles that were in his way.

Light, for the most part, came from fire. Fire was easy enough to procure, 
though making it last tended to be difficult from a logistics standpoint. 
Protecting it from wind, rain, and other elements of interruption took even 
more attention. Hand-held torches were alright, if annoying. Lanterns and 
lamps were better, because their glass kept them safe from being blown out 
- though fuel became more important with them. Lamps without oil were just 
pretty sculpture in most cases.

Safety had to be considered, too. It was easily possible to make nothing 
but huge lamps that burned brightly enough to make a lot of light, but they 
would require a lot of fuel to go with them. Keeping them maintained would 
be difficult enough, but if a fight broke out or something like that, they 
could get broken and spilled, and do a lot of damage even to the 
stone-built Warrens.

But there was another way. The Warrens used a gas found in the mountain 
rocks to cook and heat the apartments with. It didn't smell like anything, 
but you couldn't breathe it, and it burned with a bright blue flame. If he 
could find a way to pipe it out onto the green, he was sure he could build 
things like lamps that could burn the gas and shed light onto the outside 
spaces.

If blue light wasn't what was wanted, there were ways around that, too. 
Lime rock, when crushed and heated by fire, glowed brightly; it was 
sometimes used on stages in footlights. Ashes in a fire glowed when heated, 
too. Using different materials might let him get a good, bright white light 
that could be shone around from gas lamps on tall poles.

Somehow, despite his preoccupation with bringing light to the darkness, he 
found his way back to the party. He was still mindful of his promise to the 
Prince to get to know the Warrenfolk, and considered his presence at a 
social gathering to be part of living up to that expectation. No one really 
engaged him in conversation - in fact, most people avoided dealing with him 
even when he tried to force himself to mingle among them.

Then again... what was there to talk about? He'd been a dragonrider for 
less than a day. Other than food going in one end and coming out the other 
as fertilizer, and the fact that Narshada wouldn't leave him alone with his 
thoughts half the time, he really knew next to nothing about dragons. Or 
dragonriders. Making matters worse, what he did know had been twisted by 
order of Lord Gingle, turning Tinker against the Warrens without letting 
him see for himself.

Tension had filled his muscles for several long moments as the brunette 
from the cave had happened by him. Delight had bloomed on her face like a 
prize rose when she'd recognized him, but she wasn't able to come talk to 
him - thank the stars! The way she'd looked at him touched the memories 
still fresh in his mind, stirring again the mixture of attraction in his 
body and revulsion in his thoughts.

Narshada was little help, either. She just didn't understand why he felt 
the way he did, or why he preferred to think of lamps than ladies. In that, 
he couldn't blame her much, as she simply didn't understand... but he could 
blame her for her less than admirable tact in talking about it. While she 
was pestering him about the scene in the grotto, he couldn't respond, still 
of the thought that he had to vocalize his thoughts for her to hear them. 
In a huff, he stormed out into the green and gave her a short, blistering 
dressing-down that silenced - forever, he hoped, though he knew better - 
talk about the depravity behind the waterfall.

A mad scramble within his skull let him find the thoughts and designs he'd 
left drifting when he'd concentrated on putting Narshada out of the 
unwelcome distraction business. Moving at a slow walk, Tinker's mind again 
became filled with schematics and material requirements. Even attuned to 
the near-darkness, Tinker's eyes didn't spot the approaching figure until 
it was too late.

[ snip from Bets' post ]

So many people, she thought, I think everyone in the world must be here. I 
need to get out of this place, she thought, stifling a choke as she backed 
away from the building. Never in her life had she been near so many 
people... Turning to run back to her safe haven and apartment, terrified 
tears threatening to fall, she stumbled over something in the darkness.

"Ow. Owowowowowow."

Sarah's head shot up to follow the noise that went with the muffled 
pain-noises. A young man was jumping about on the grass, holding one foot 
and looking at her with mild irritation. Clothes rumpled and stuck to him, 
he looked about as thrilled to be anywhere near this party as she felt. As 
she watched him rub his toes and put the foot down, her tired brain put two 
and two together and realized that the resistance she had felt was...

"Oh my, I'm sorry, lad. Are you okay? I didn't mean to..."

Wincing slightly, he looked down at his foot, silver lock of hair catching 
the limited moonlight and blazing against the darkness of his scalp. "I 
think I'm okay - you didn't step very hard."

Might as well start here, she said to herself, screwing up all the courage 
she didn't feel. Extending her hand gingerly, she couldn't help but laugh, 
blushing and shaking her head bemusedly. "I know I'm usually not good at 
introducing myself, but I do /try/ not to cause bodily harm. I'm Sarah 
Anderson, the new teacher here. I just don't think I can handle that many 
people," she explained with a nod back towards the party. "Janet from the 
school wanted me to come out to meet everyone tonight, so I have to start 
somewhere."

They both laughed heartily at that. "It's a rather odd way to introduce 
yourself, but I guess it gets you remembered." He took her hand and smiled, 
"My name's Thral... er, Tinker."

Sarah shook the young fellow's hand with a rueful chuckle, noticing the 
name correction. "Not remembered in the way I'd like. Are you one of the 
newly Joined?"

[ unsnip ]

"Y-yes, I am," he stammered, eyes still watering somewhat from when her 
foot had intersected his instep. "An-and I don't blame you for wanting to 
leave the party. I didn't care much for it either."

Silver sparkles in the distance caught Sarah's eye from the way they 
refracted in her lenses, and she smiled warmly. Sarah wasn't given normally 
to feeling comfortable with other people, but as the awkwardness of their 
collision faded, she noticed that she wasn't feeling anything like the 
normal shyness she experienced with most adults. It helped to some extent 
that Tinker was nearly the same height. There was also a softness in his 
voice that she found comforting.

"How about we walk this way," she offered uncharacteristically boldly, 
gesturing toward their source at the lake. Laughing with a hint of 
nervousness, the young teacher added, "I promise not to step on your feet 
again!"

Tinker gawked at her for a moment, his grey eyes flashing with reflected 
moonlight, then a bashful grin spread across his almost plain features. 
"Sounds good," he accepted, then did nothing as he coped with a moment of 
indecision before finally offering the lady his arm.

Warmth spread over Sarah's face, the darkness hiding her blush. She didn't 
move to accept his gesture until he'd almost started to take it back, 
leading to a new rush of blood to her skin. Despite themselves, though, 
Sarah and Tinker were soon walking across the green together, intent on the 
small lake near the base of the falls.

The silence between them wasn't exceptionally awkward or uncomfortable, 
neither of them having or wanting to say anything. A stolen glance on her 
part told her that he was seemingly deep in thought. Tinker's eyes were 
wide and slightly unfocused, yet somehow he knew which stones to step 
around and over. The teacher in her recognized the look at once - he was in 
the throes of creation. Put a crayon in his hand and he could be an 
oversized child drawing another in a series of masterpieces.

She rather liked that image.

They reached the lake, and walked along its edge until they found a 
comfortable-looking place. From this distance, the waterfall's roar was 
more of a muted rush, the noise blocking out the other sounds of the night 
but not so oppressive that talking was impossible.

"So you're a teacher," he half-said, half-asked as he returned to the 
present from wherever his thoughts had taken him. "That's... very nice. 
Have you just arrived in Whiteriver?"

Sarah nodded, then realized that he couldn't see it. "Yes. Just officially 
arrived today," she said, hoping the slight mortification from her earlier 
meeting with Merissa didn't show through in her voice. "Did you have to 
wait long after you were Searched to become Joined?"

"I wasn't Searched," he replied, not wholly sure what the term meant. "I 
was just passing through, really, though it looks like I'm staying for a 
while now."

There was a tone in his voice that intrigued her, and she tore her eyes 
from the rippling reflection of the moon to see him better in its light. 
"The same here. There's always a need for teachers, it seems."

Tinker's head bobbed solemnly, grey eyes flashing silver in the moonlight. 
"You're at least welcome here in Whiteriver. To these people, I was The 
Enemy until I joined a dragon by chance." A long, bone-weary sigh escaped 
his lips as he added, "It's been a rough few days."

Sarah's face clouded with concern, and she turned slightly to face him a 
little more directly. "What happened? It's okay if you give me the short 
version. I listen well, and it might make you feel better." When silence 
hung in the air for a few moments, she wondered if she'd overstepped 
herself with him, and added in a quiet voice, "And I'm not sure how welcome 
I am either; I was assigned to this post. I'm not real crazy about the 
thought of working here."

Tinker leaned back, resting on his arms, his eyes only half-focused as they 
gazed into the infinite distance of the sky. "I'm from a place called 
Windtide. The Lord of the land is named Gingle, and recently it was found 
out that he's been manipulating us townsfolks into hating the Warrens, and 
a bunch of other bad things. He's gone missing after he killed another 
Lord. It was a big mess. The Prince has effectively disowned the Gingles 
and is talking of putting another Lord in their place."

Nodding thoughtfully, she felt there was more to the story. "And..?"

He blushed fiercely at being prompted, realizing that he'd forgotten to 
mention the rest. "Like I said, I'm from there. I share in my Lord's shame 
because I was taught to revile the warrens and all they stand for. I know 
differently now, but... there's still the stigma of having been a part of 
what amounts to Whiteriver's mortal enemy. When I testified to the Prince, 
I could feel the Warrenfolks' eyes on me... some calling me a monster and a 
villain, others pitying me because of what was done to me... I'm more of a 
thing than a person to them. I've even heard they pity Narshada because she 
picked me and not a 'real rider'."

Sarah shook her head and sighed in sympathetic frustration. "I don't see 
why the sins of the proverbial father are heaped on you, Tinker. I can 
understand that it's human nature to attack the demon you know." Smiling 
softly to herself, she added, "Think of it this way. From what little I 
understand of dragons, they do not choose falsely and they do not choose 
bad people. Once the Warren gets over their original anger, they'll 
remember that."

All he could manage was a fair imitation of a shrug. "That might be it. 
I... I just don't know."

Sarah chuckled. "It's human nature. Common sense is anything but common and 
far from sensible. I'm a teacher. I've seen just about every sort of 
pig-headedness you can imagine." Pushing her hair out of her eyes, she 
added "Besides, eventually they'll catch the demon they really want and the 
pressure will be off of you to play surrogate."

"I'm just a blacksmith," he said in a self-deprecating tone. "And I get... 
strange ideas... on things to build and do. Maybe if I can show them I'm 
not their enemy, they'll focus on finding the ones who really are. That's 
kinda why I bumped into you, actually... I want to bring people light."

Sarah wagged her finger at Tinker. "Never mind 'just a blacksmith'. 
Blacksmiths are very important, especially when you ride horse a lot 
because the Goddess hasn't quite seen fit to saddle you with a flying 
eating machine." Chuckling softly, she smiled at him. "And what do you mean 
by bringing people light?"

His eyes flashed with excitement - the first real emotion she'd seen out of 
him - and he gestured out at the dark open space behind them. "It's dark 
out there on the green and on the footpaths. Dangerous at night if you 
don't have a lamp... and Eleanora is deaf, and has to be able to see your 
mouth to understand you when you talk. It occurred to me that there might 
be a way to set up lamps out in the Green. *Big* ones. Ones that could be 
run on cooking-gas instead of lamp oil or coal, so that their fuel could be 
brought to them by pipe instead of by hand."

Sarah paused thoughtfully, chewing on her lip. "So, lamps we don't have to 
fill, that run on cooking-gas. I can sort of see it, but how would you get 
the gas there? And how would you get them off the ground, because they 
wouldn't give much light otherwise. Lamps on the ground don't."

"Pipes." The single word came out with no small amount of pride behind it, 
and he straightened up, turning to face her as well. "Bury the pipes 
underground, except for branches that stick straight up. Put the lamp up at 
the top of the pole, surrounded by cut glass that made the light shine 
downward and outward. Space them a few dozen paces apart and you have 
enough light to see, 'cept it wouldn't be nearly as bright as the daylight. 
But you don't need a lot of light to see at night. Just enough." As he 
spoke, his hands described what his words illustrated in animated, 
exaggerated gestures.

Sarah nodded thoughtfully, closing her eyes to try and make a picture. "But 
what do we do if one goes out?"

He looked at her for a moment like she'd just asked a question he'd 
answered - then formed an apologetic look as he realized he hadn't. 
"Re-light it, of course. I can make a thing that will make sparks at one 
end when you move a lever at the other end. Put that on the pole with the 
lamp."

"A giant tinderbox on a stick?" With a slow smile, she nodded. "I guess it 
might work, if you could figure out how to regulate to cooking gas and make 
it go through the pipes in doses just big enough to make the fire go 
without having it drip down and set the grass on fire..." Raising an 
eyebrow, she tried again to get the image of what he was describing, and 
smiled when she did so. "Oh, I get it... but will they let you?"

That seemed to take the wind out of his sails. "I... I don't know. That's 
why I'm trying to think it out ahead of time. If I tell Merissa it's just 
an idea, she probably won't go for it... but if I show her that it can be 
done and what benefit it will bring, she might just allow it. As my master 
used to tell me, you can't sell the king stories of swords and armor you 
*can* make, just the swords and armor you DO make."

Sensing that he'd forgotten something, he thought back for a moment and 
then shook his head vigorously. "Cooking gas goes up, not down. It can't drip."

Sarah laughed sheepishly. "Oh right. It's fumes, not liquid. Silly me has 
been spoiled by eating in the local inn for too long. I forgot.  Maybe if 
you drew some pictures for them it might help," suggested Sarah with a 
smile. "Some of us are more visual. Besides, they have to approve the idea. 
You can't just go dig holes in the Green. They'll FLIP."

"It's alright," he said, grinning at her. "I forgot that, too. But we have 
valves to control how much gas comes out. We use them on stoves and 
heaters. And what I was going to do is build a couple of the pole-lamps as 
proof that it works, put them up near the forge, and invite Merissa and 
Adeliannae to see how they work."

Looking a bit puzzled, Sarah shrugged. "Okay, I can see that - just don't 
put them anywhere where you have to make big holes. It might be advisable 
to have the pipes OVER the ground for the examples." Sarah added quietly, 
"At least that way if they don't like the prototypes, you can reuse 
everything. But I don't see why they wouldn't."

Tinker's very expressive face screwed up in concentration for a moment, and 
he looked at Sarah with appreciation. "I hadn't thought of that. You're 
right. And it saves me from digging trenches and running pipe," he added 
with a wink. "I think you just saved me a backache."

Blushing slightly, Sarah smiled. "You're more than welcome. It just didn't 
make sense to tear up the ground until you had approval. Besides, it won't 
take as long to make models if you're not digging trenches."

He nodded again. "Especially since I have to be in training most of the 
time and taking care of Narshada the rest. Merissa told me explicitly that 
I couldn't let my work at the forge interfere with my duties to the 
Warren... and she doesn't strike me as someone to make angry."

Sarah laughed and shook her head. "No, she's quite good enough at making me 
feel like I should bray when I didn't even do anything wrong - I wouldn't 
want her to be angry at me."

"Why would you make donkey sounds?"

Sarah explained with a gentle smile as she rose, "The donkey noises are 
just for feeling like a bit of an ass -- I asked her who the Warrenlady was 
and then snubbed her until she thumped me over the head with the 
information verbally."

"Oh, my," was all Tinker could manage before he chuckled softy. "I'm 
sorry... but it is slightly funny. Merissa definitely doesn't seem... well, 
old enough, I guess, to be a Warrenlady, does she?" Another little chuckle 
rumbled in his chest.

"It's not that funny," Sarah sniffed, feeling still more warmth in her face.

Oblivious as he was to the mortal condition, Tinker still managed to sense 
her discomfort at his sudden mirth. "No, it's not, at least not like the 
jokes a jester tells at court. I just..." He searched for a few moments, 
looking for the words that might explain his peculiar merriment. "I found 
out recently that a lot of the preconceived notions I had need to be gotten 
rid of. The world I was taught to think is normal turns out to be all 
wrong, you see? It just hadn't occurred to me that others might suffer from 
the same dilemma."

"Irony," she said after a long introspective moment of her own. "That's the 
word you're looking for, I do believe." The sounds of music and frivolity 
drifted to their ears when the wind shifted for a moment, blowing toward 
them from the direction of the hatching party. Sarah could hear his talk of 
preconceived notions echoing in them as well.

She smiled at him and, after a moment or two's hesitation, placed her hand 
on top of his and squeezed it gently. "And you're right, of course. We all 
have our prejudices to overcome. Thank you, Tinker," she said honestly. "I 
think maybe I should see if I can go to this party. There's a goodly number 
of parents in the Warren, and they should see that they have a good 
teacher, yes?"

Tinker nodded as he felt the heat in her hand bleeding into his skin and up 
his arm, making it tingle pleasantly. "Yes, they do. If it gets too much, 
step outside again - a friend of mine used to do that. Closed-in places 
scared him."

Before he could say more, Narshada's mindvoice interrupted him. [ My Rider, 
I'm getting sleepy again. Can we go to bed? Trefoil says class starts early. ]

Shaking his head a bit to clear it, he realized he'd forgotten what else he 
was going to say. Instead, he offered, "Go on back to the party. Maybe 
you'll make a friend."

Rising to her feet, feeling a little more confident in herself than before, 
Sarah couldn't help but smile at him. "I think I already have."

------------------

Respectfully Submitted,

Brian Cook as Tinker & Narshada
Betty Punkert as Sarah


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