Misery Hates Company

Writers: Estelle, Yvonne
Date Posted: 20th November 2021

Characters: L'keri, H'run
Description: L'keri tries to cheer up a despondent H'run
Location: Dragonsfall Weyr
Date: month 9, day 2 of Turn 10
Notes: Mentioned: Urlene, Arten, K'mai

L'keri

H'run

L'keri ticked the last name off his list, folded the finished invitation and added it to a large stack. Usually he'd simply ask Rhalith to pass the message on about a party in his weyr, but this was a special occasion. He was going to be thirty-three, and with the new Turn approaching, so was the end of his term of sobriety. Life was looking up.

He waved over one of the weyrbrats hanging around the dining cavern and handed over the notes and a small mark piece for her trouble. Then he drained the last of his klah and, whistling a drinking song to himself, headed out to find his dragon for a bath.

It didn't take long for the first of the notes to come back. L'keri had written to H'run, and the bluerider had scrawled 'I do not have the spirit for celebrations. My best to you,' in bright purple ink. He'd signed it with a elaborate flourish that could have been his name, or maybe a picture of a flower.

Standing knee-deep in the lake with a scrubbing brush in one hand, L'keri blinked at the note, and read it over again, his brow creasing. What could have happened to his wingmate that was so awful, he didn't want to go to a party? How had he missed the signs?

**Sorry, bath time's over, Rhalith. We have an emergency on our hands." He waded out of the water and picked up his boots. **Let's go to Calcifeth's weyr...no, wait.** He brightened. **Give me five minutes. I'm going to stop by the kitchens.**

When L'keri did make it to H'run's weyr, he had to wait for a good few minutes before the bluerider answered the door. H'run was uncharacteristically dishevelled, his dark hair an artful mess and his beautiful patchwork purple robe sloppily belted over what looked like blue silk pyjamas. He had dark circles under his eyes but he managed a wan smile when he saw L'keri. "Oh... did you not get my note? I do apologize but I must decline."

The brownrider looked him up and down, his eyes widening in sympathy. This was worse than he'd thought. He'd never seen H'run less than perfectly groomed, even after flying Fall. "I know. I came to make sure you were all right. You sounded rather despondent, so..." Like a Gather entertainer pulling a handkerchief from the air, he produced the plate he'd been hiding behind his back with a flourish and beamed at the bluerider as if expecting a joyful transformation. "I brought a treat to cheer you up!"

"Oh. How thoughtful of you." H'run eyed the plate but didn't look delighted by it.

L'keri proffered the plate, which was piled with sweet, sticky-looking iced pastries. "Go on - help yourself. I'm not allowed to eat these myself, they're not on the diet drawn up by that tyrannical Weyrhealer, but I gave my solemn oath to the cooks that they're all for you." He glanced past H'run. "Can I come in?"

The bluerider sighed as he stepped aside. "If you must," he said, but he was still looking at the pastries.

L'keri entered the weyr and set down the plate on a table. "Maybe you don't feel hungry now, but you might later. I'll leave these here for you." He considered the various chairs, then sighed and dropped into one out of reach of the sweet treats. He leaned back, stretched out his legs and looked expectantly at H'run.

H'run collapsed onto his rumpled bed, covering his eyes with the back of his hand. "I'm sorry, but I... I am in no state to be a good host. Perhaps another night."

"But I'm here now," L'keri said, settling comfortably into his seat. "And you're doing fine as a host. I've known much worse. Like me, when I'd had a few too many drinks. As long as you don't start throwing up in a corner, you're ahead."

"I see the bar for being a good host is set quite high," H'run muttered. He sighed again and rolled onto his stomach to look at L'keri. "Truly,
though, why are you here? I do appreciate the sweets, but... I am not interesting, entertaining or even particularly well shaved this evening."

"Ah, we're wingmates, don't worry about it. You don't always have to be perfectly polished around me," L'keri replied. "You sounded a little
down in your note, so I came by to check that you were all right. See if there was anything I could do."

"Unless you can change a heart, or else cut out mine..." the bluerider trailed off and sighed again. "I don't want it anymore. I'm tired, L'keri."

"I don't think I ought to operate on your heart. I'm in enough trouble with the healers already." Romantic difficulties. He should have guessed. "Hurts like Threadscore, doesn't it?" He tilted his head towards the plate. "Cakes can help. A lot of people will tell you to stick to healthy food or go for a run, but they're wrong."

"Tell me," H'run said, giving in and reaching for the plate, "who broke your heart?"

"Where do I start?" He let out his breath in a sigh and slouched back in the chair. "I could go back to when I was a young lad in weyrling training, but Arten's mother was the first really hard one. Arten's my son. She transferred up to one of those Northern Weyrs after he was born with another rider from my Wing." He grimaced. "It was kind of my fault, honestly. It usually is."

"I didn't know you had children." H'run paused. "I don't know if I even have children. But tell me about this woman... what was she like?"

"She was fun. She had this really rich, deep, wicked laugh that sent a shiver through you. I used to think of the most ridiculous things to say or do just to hear it, usually in weyrling classes or Wing meetings. Got me in trouble more than once." L'keri shook his head, remembering. "The baby was a surprise to both of us. I kind of talked her into keeping it...I thought it'd be a great joke. It was a lot more than I ever expected."

"So I've heard." The bluerider brushed crumbs from his fingers and reached for a second pastry. "What happened?"

"Well, she stopped drilling with our wing, and they moved this _incredibly_ gorgeous redhead from the Queen's Wing to stand in for her
until she'd recovered from the birth." L'keri winced. "I've always had a bit of a weakness. Turns out I wasn't as ready to settle down as I thought - as I'd promised I was." He thought for a moment, then shook himself. "Hold on. I'm supposed to be cheering you up here, not telling you depressing stories about my love life."

H'run sighed dramatically and flopped back onto his bed. "Were it so simple. I don't suppose _you_ were-- ah, 'cheered up' after losing your love?"

"In a way." He looked abashed. "I got very, very drunk with a few of my wingmates. Felt thoroughly rotten the next day, of course, and got chewed out by the Headwoman for being wild and disorderly in the dining cavern. I don't recommend it. Cake is better, all things considered."

Perhaps that was the start of L'keri's turn of sobriety. "How is your... ah, wager progressing? Any news from your lovely Healer?"

"Still sober," L'keri said cheerfully. "And I'm flamed if I'm going to give up now and have it all be for nothing, even though I'll have to endure Turn's End without a drink. I've been dreaming of the party I'm going to have when it's all over." He turned, resting his arms on the back of the chair to regard H'run. "I hope you'll be able to come to that one."

The bluerider sighed dramatically. "Perhaps. Perhaps not. The heart is a tricky thing, yes? I'm not sure if I could bear it if..."

If L'keri had learned one thing from his experiences, it was that the heart was also resilient. He said nothing and raised an inquiring eyebrow.

"If K'mai went home with someone else." H'run turned his large, sad eyes on L'keri. "I told him how I felt about him, L'keri. And he... told me he _can't_ love me."

"Ah, shells." The brownrider grimaced. "I'm sorry, H'run. That's hard." He thought over H'run's words for a moment. "K'mai said that? I thought...well, it seemed like he was attracted to you. A lot."

"Those are his words." H'run was quiet for a moment. "I'm not very loveable, am I. So I suppose, in a way, I don't blame him."

"Nonsense," L'keri said briskly. "Look at you. You're a good-looking man, a dragonrider, a talented musician, and you have a harper's way with words. Go out to the Holds and you could have them swooning at your feet..." He considered. "Maybe you're thinking too much like a Harper."

"I can only be who I am," the bluerider said, his voice bleak. "And I am a Harper, so of course I think like a Harper and speak like a Harper. And thus my predicament."

"Yes, but you see, K'mai's not a character in a Harper's romance. He might not melt into your arms and pledge himself eternally to you, but that doesn't mean he doesn't care for you, very much." L'keri cleared his throat. "Um, at least, that's what I've heard happens in Harper romances, from people who enjoy such things. What I mean to say is, maybe you should think more like a dragonrider. Live for today! Don't throw away a chance for pleasure because it isn't perfect, or you don't know if it'll last. Maybe you'll be surprised."

H'run gave L'keri a hard, black look, clearly offended. "Perhaps we both should live for today. Care to have a drink with me?"

"Not the same. Drinking too much is bad for you, so I'm told, but no one ever got sick from a night of wild passion with a handsome rider." L'keri sighed. "Fine, I get it. This time last Turn, if our positions had been reversed, I'd have told you to go and jump in the lake, and take your unwanted advice with you. Just keep it in the back of your mind, will you? K'mai's my friend and I hate to see him missing you."

Of course L'keri would side with K'mai. Of course this whole visit was about K'mai and making sure the other bluerider was happy. L'keri wasn't here out of concern for _him_ at all. H'run suddenly, achingly missed Dream's End Weyr, with its familiar faces and familiar friends. The bluerider signed and flopped onto his back, covering his eyes with a hand. "I do apologize, L'keri, but I feel a _terrible_ headache coming on."

"All right." L'keri heaved himself out of the chair and looked down at the bluerider, sympathy in his eyes. "I'll leave you be. But think about
what I said?"

H'run waved a hand. "Thank you _ever_ so much for the sweets. And for stopping by as well."

"Not at all. That's what wingmates are for." The brownrider hesitated. "Well. Feel better, H'run." He raised a hand in farewell, then turned
and left the weyr.

Wingmates. Not friends. That confirmed H'run's suspicions. He waggled his fingers goodbye and was grateful when L'keri closed the door, so that he could bury his face in his pillows and contemplate suffocating himself. Life would be better without him in it. _K'mai_ would be better off.

That only lasted a moment. The lure of the pasteries was too strong and H'run sat up to devour the rest of the plate. Even if L'keri was a fake friend, he'd brought H'run something tasty and sweet. So perhaps his offence was forgiveable... in the long run.

Last updated on the February 10th 2022

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