Well, I said it was the end once before, and I lied. But I'm saying it again now, and I'm not lying, for two reasons: one, I leave for Japan tomorrow, and two, I'm really quite enamored with the way this came out. I really like it. So without further ado, I hope you enjoy the ending of this lovely tale--and, as always, I welcome any reviews!

Arwen, over and out!

The hot sands of Benden Weyr's Hatching Grounds scalded Arryn's feet as she made her way toward her dragon, her eyes sparkling as she counted the eggs. There were seven now, their shells gleaming in the heat. Maventh turned to her, one wing spread protectively over the eighth wondrous egg, the egg glittering golden against the sand. Arryn stopped and gazed up at her dragon wondrously. How did you do it, Maventh? she asked.

I am merely doing what needs to be done, replied Maventh. She nudged one of the eggs, turning it gently. Then she looked at Arryn with eyes whirling gently in concern. You are not angry with me, are you?

Why would I be angry with you? Arryn blinked in surprise.

Because I kept it from you. I was not sure, at first. I was confused, Maventh admitted.

Believe me, I was confused as well, replied Arryn with a grin. May I touch them?

You are my rider. Of course you can touch them. Maventh huffed and bunted Arryn in the chest. After rubbing her dragon's eyeridge lovingly, Arryn turned to the nearest egg. It was as tall as her leg from heel to knee. She placed one hand tentatively along the curve of its shell. It was warm and solid and promising.

You're magnificent, Mav. Really special, you know. You're the first green to ever…to ever do this.

I know. Maventh seemed unperturbed by her rider's statement.

I still don't understand how, mused Arryn. I thought greens—no offense, love, but they've always told us that greens are sterile.

Well, obviously they're wrong, commented Maventh, pulling the precious queen egg closer to her side.

I'm just stating a fact. Or what they thought was a fact, amended Arryn. According to G'let, the weyr historian, the first greens were created that way. Apparantly they were genetically incapable of bearing eggs.

What does ge-net-ickly mean? questioned Maventh with an air of innocence.

Burn me, I don't know, only G'let seemed to think it was pretty irreversible, replied Arryn with a shrug. She moved over to stand in front of another egg, inspecting the markings swirled across its shell.

We have come a long way since our beginnings, said Maventh.

I'll say, agreed Arryn, touching a delicate whorl of color on the egg's side.

Maventh cocked her head, considering. It was not so hard, after I had gotten past the part of me that told me I could not do this.

Arryn frowned. Mav, you're not making any sense.

I am big enough. I am strong enough. It was like diving through a pocket of Thread—I simply had to find the right path, explained the green dragon, crooning deep in her throat as she rearranged a few eggs.

You are remarkable, said Arryn wonderingly, stroking her dragon's neck. How many more, do you think? she asked speculatively.

Not many. Even though I am big, I am not as large as a queen, reasoned Maventh.

But you've given Benden one, said Arryn, looking at the golden egg and feeling a rush of pride and love and awe. Her dragon, her Maventh, had saved the future of Benden, given back hope to the riders who thought it lost, and thrown into chaos the very orderly rules that had governed dragonkind until her hatching.

So how do you like being a mother? continued Arryn, her voice taking on a teasing tone.

It's rather boring and tiresome, being stuck here all the time, confessed Maventh. But I suppose it's worth it.

You bet your pretty little tail it's worth it! Arryn laughed and gave Maventh's nose a playful tap.

Hmph. Go away and let me concentrate. I'd rather finish quickly, and you distract me.

Fine, said Arryn with a grin. You get back to egg-laying, you little green wonder you.

Maventh harrumphed at Arryn again as she turned and exited the Hatching Grounds, sighing in relief as she felt the cool air of the weyr's lower caverns upon her face.

"Arryn! There you are!" It was K'lin, grinning from ear to ear. "Come on, I have something to show you."

"What—all right, all right, I'm coming!" said Arryn as Lira and Sh'len materialized out of nowhere and latched onto her arms, dragging her after them. They took her to an empty room in the lower caverns.

"What's this all about?" demanded Arryn as Sh'len let go of her arm to rap a cryptical rhythm on the door.

"Secret code," he said with a grin at Arryn's questioning glance.

The door opened and Lira pulled her inside. It was pitch-black.

"What the—shards!" Arryn shielded her eyes at the burst of light. Green Mira and Hint chirruped in self-satisfaction; they'd blinked into the room with a bright lantern held up between them, suspended on a length of rope. Arryn gasped.

It wasn't an empty room. It was an unused meeting hall, and crammed into it were riders. A lot of riders. It seemed that nearly all of Benden was there. Arryn felt herself blush in front of all their sharp gazes, and she turned, scrambling for the door, but Sh'len caught her and held her shoulders fast, rooting her to the spot.

She found herself standing on a small raised platform that had obviously been constructed specifically for the occasion. T'ran was standing off to her right, a small smile lighting his face. He was dressed in a very fine tunic; it was a silvery grey that brought out his eyes, and the full sleeves were slashed artfully to show hints of the deep blue undertunic. Arryn felt very grubby, in her favorite trousers and a shirt stained with sweat and sand. Her hair, too, had frizzed uncontrollably, as it always did when she visited the Hatching Grounds, becoming a nimbus of rebellious curls.

"I'm not dressed for the occasion," she whispered very quietly to Lira, who only grinned.

"Don't worry. We've taken care of that," she said. Arryn noticed that her friend was holding something—a rather large something—beneath a cloth.

"What's that?" she asked, eyeing the blue-rider suspiciously. Lira didn't have the chance to answer her as K'lin stepped forward and addressed the crowd.

"Riders of Benden," he called out, "how do you find your Weyrwoman?"

A collective roar of approval rose from the throats of the gathered riders. Arryn flushed in pleasure and disbelief, wanting to laugh and cry and run away all at the same time. Sh'len squeezed her shoulders reassuringly. It was overwhelming, looking out at the shining faces raised to her, the hopeful eyes and confident smiles. The cheer went on and on, and the ground shook as the dragons outside added their voices in great bellows.

"Only a few days ago this was a weyr on the edge of self-destruction," said K'lin, only loud enough for Arryn to hear. "You deserve this."

With a flourish, Lira uncovered the object held in her grasp. It was a beautifully tailored riding vest, the seams stitched in gold thread. A master leather-worker had embellished the front and sides of the vest with a beautiful pattern, wrought all in green, that reminded Arryn of spring leaves and the reflections of dragons' gleaming hides in the lake and sunlight playing across Maventh's wings, all at once. And on the shoulders of the vest, there were the knots of a green-rider—but they were different, she realized. Instead of just the double green knot, there was now a knot of gold behind the green. As if that weren't enough, on the left side of the vest, over the heart, there was a delicately embroidered emblem: a green dragon set upon a field of gold, circled about with Benden's colors.

"We had to come up with a new knot for you," grinned Lira. "Here, put it on."

"But—I'm dirty!" protested Arryn.

"It's meant to be worn. It's not as delicate as it looks," said K'lin, smiling. With a doubtful look Arryn consented and let Lira slip the vest on. She laced it up, unable to deny that it fit wonderfully, the leather light and well-worked.

"It's beautiful," she breathed, touching the shoulder-knots with one finger. Then she became aware of all the riders—the audience, she supposed, to this little drama. She stood up straighter. "Um. Do they expect a speech?" she whispered to K'lin. He shrugged good-naturedly and cupped his hands around his mouth.

"Should the Weyrwoman make a speech?"

His answer was met by another rowdy cheer from the riders, many of whom were nursing mugs of wine or ale.

"Shards," muttered Arryn. "Thanks, K'lin." She took a deep breath. "Well," she began. "I don't really know where to start."

"From the beginning!" called out a familiar voice—P'tar. He grinned at her from the front row.

"Ah. I guess that would be a good place," she agreed amongst the chuckles. "The beginning. I suppose that would be when Maventh chose me." Her eyes shone fondly at the memory. "I'm sure most of you felt the same as I did, just after Impression—wondrous and awed and wholly unworthy, despite every insistence of the hatchling." She smiled. "I feel much the same way now. Maventh is a truly remarkable dragon. In her words, she is 'merely doing what needs to be done.' She says we have come far from our beginnings. I agree."

"I think it is time to rekindle the fellowship between dragon-riders and fellow weyrs," she continued to her rapt audience. "A change is coming—it is already here, in truth; with this, the acceptance of a green-rider Weyrwoman, Benden has marked itself forever as the weyr to recognize the remarkable abilities of those once thought ordinary." She paused. "Benden is the first to recognize that a dragon's color does not necessarily dictate their role in life."

A murmur of approval rose from the room.

"I am humbled and honored by your acceptance of me," she said huskily, emotion welling up and threatening to close her throat. "I know that there will be those who oppose my position in this weyr. I know that there are probably those here tonight who do not approve. But I promise you that I—and Maventh—will strive to fulfill our duties to the best of our ability, and to uphold the standard of excellence that Benden has set for the rest of Pern."

A hearty agreement echoed from the rafters as the riders raised their glasses to her last words. She grinned happily. "All right! I expect you've got a grand feast planned—" she glanced at K'lin, who looked away innocently—" so I'll let you get to it!"

"Who wants to fetch Green-rider Arryn her first drink as Weyrwoman?" called out K'lin, winking at her roguishly. She rolled her eyes and laughed as a dozen volunteers shot toward the barrels of spirits.

"So that's settled," said Lira in satisfaction, walking with Arryn off the little platform into the crowd. Arryn could barely hear her friend above the clamor of riders congratulating her and clapping her on the back. She glanced over her shoulder and found T'ran amidst the sea of faces. He made his way to her side.

"Well-met, Weyrleader," she teased, linking her arm through his. He winced at the title. "Bet you're regretting your choice of weyrmate now," she grinned, her question only half-teasing. T'ran looked down at her seriously, then smiled.

"Not on your life, Weyrwoman," he said, kissing her soundly. A chorus of cheers and hoots rose around them and he drew back, grinning.

"Great feast, eh?" grinned Sh'len, handing a cup of wine to T'ran.

"Why don't I get any wine?" said Arryn.

"Because you've got ten admirers all making their way back here with wine for you," replied Sh'len.

"But you're not allowed to have any," said P'tar, toasting her with his cup. He slung an arm about her shoulders and winked at T'ran over Arryn's protest. "You're the Weyrwoman, after all. Can't have you making a spectacle and kissing all the dashing riders, now, can we? Oy! Gerroff!"

Arryn watched in amusement as Lira frogmarched P'tar away.

"We're going on Search day after tomorrow," Sh'len informed her.

"Who?"

"Lira and R'sen and H'rath and I," said Sh'len. He smiled. "Got to find some good little candidates for your Maventh's hatchlings, don't we?"

"Better make sure they're up to par," contributed T'ran.

"Otherwise I suspect the old greenie will tear them apart," said Lira seriously, brushing her hands off as she returned from escorting P'tar from the vicinity.

"Meanie greenie," giggled R'sen, toasting Arryn with his dangerously tilted glass. Lira hopped aside to avoid the splash of wine that followed the green-rider's toast. She gingerly took R'sen's glass from him with a look of comic disgust.

Arryn found herself suddenly surrounded by five riders who were all offering her a drink. She closed her eyes and picked one. The brown-rider threw up his hands in triumph and the others wandered away with looks of vague disappointment. Arryn couldn't help but smile. "You know," she said thoughtfully, "this is really the biggest change the weyr has ever seen, isn't it?"

"Like you said, these are changing times," agreed Sh'len.

"A change in the times," mused Arryn.

"No. More like a change in the stars," contributed Lira.

"That's a stupid name for the beginning of a new era." Arryn wrinkled her nose as she took a sip of wine.

"Actually, it's quite brilliant," said Lira smugly. "You see, as Pern travels in space, she tilts ever so slightly." She demonstrated with her wine-glass until Sh'len righted it. "The stars aren't the same as they were when dragon-kind was first born, and the unwritten laws set into motion. So therefore, as dragons have changed over the years, the stars have changed. Just as Maventh is totally different than anything they could have imagined back then, the stars are totally different too."

"All hoity-toity science-talk, are we?" grinned Sh'len.

"Pf," was Lira's dignified reply. "Better than you could do."

"Can we stop talking philosophy? It's hurting my head," complained Arryn.

"As you say, O Weyrwoman." Lira bowed, only to be pinched by the ever-so-dignified Weyrwoman. "Ouch. Maybe the wine is hurting your head. Ever think of that?"

Arryn smiled. She was truly happy, here with her dearest friends and a cause for celebration. The future was a bit scary—it intimidated her to be placed in such a high position, with such high expectations—but she was sure they could get through it together.

Lira raised her glass. "Here's to Weyrwoman Arryn, fighting green-rider, beginning of a new era."

The others raised their glasses.

"No," Arryn said as she raised her glass. She looked at the three of them and smiled. "Here's to the first day of the rest of our lives."

"I'll drink to that," T'ran said.

With a grin the four raised their glasses and drank to their friendship, to their dragons, to their new Weyrwoman—and to the future of Benden Weyr, a future that looked bright thanks to a misfit dragon and her determined rider, a dragon who proved to the weyr and to the world that she was much more than simply 'just a green.'

Fin