Kellir was a born leader. Almost every youth in the weyr looked to him for guidance from time to time. He stood 5'10" tall, and was a very athletic man of 21. He was an avid wrestler, and kept his brown hair cropped short so his opponents could not pull on it. His eyes were green, and his smile was always warm and friendly.

He’d led the camping expedition during which Jeyann saved Telrinn from certain death in the river. Danoellin and Seriael were there too. Some had wanted Jeyann to lead, but Kellir could tell Danoellin to do something and he’d do it right away, instead of talking back like the stubborn weyrbrat he was. This alone raised Kellir in the favor of some.

Kellir’s parents were bronze and brown riders - his mother rode the brown, and was not interested in men whatsoever, but one too many ales and a green’s flight, and the rest is history. Kellir was raised at Ryslen and his mother is elsewhere. He doesn’t know his mother - had never known her. By her choice, of course. Kellir was mothered by one of the lower-caverns women - fostered, like so many others. As soon as he could walk, talk, and pretty much mind himself, Kellir began training himself to be a dragonrider. He’s never been upset that his mother is not part of his life, and he’s always been happy right where he was.

Kellir was very neat and ordered. It was something he could pride himself upon. He had clear handwriting and thought maybe he would take over as Weyr Steward after a few turns. He’d stood at a few hatchings, but no dragon had ever picked him. Not that that really meant anything. Maybe the dragon for him hadn’t been laid yet - or maybe there wasn’t one. Many children of dragonriders never Impressed. Kellir knew it; he didn’t mind it so much. He was content. Of course, Kellir knew how the Weyr ran, up, down, left, right, inside out, upside down, and backwards. He’d even had long discussions with Weyrwoman Tiyanni (who was pleased to entertain his curiousity) and Weyrlingmaster D’lrik, and Dragonhealer Glinde on the nature of Mating Flights, Clutches, proddy dragons, firestone, dragonhealing, and more. The only part of Weyrlife this young man didn’t know about was what it was like to Impress and BE a dragonrider. He knew all the dragonrider duties; how to make proper riding straps, pick firestone, repair wingsail damage. You name it, he could do it.

Kellir was a perfect example of everything - leadership, credibility, honesty - but he knew he wasn’t perfect. His biggest fear in the world was that someone would find a flaw in him, and display it for everyone to see - and destroy him utterly.

In a quiet moment between chores, Kellir had been walking past the Hatching Grounds when Cytiath was laying her eggs. It was common for people to stop by and watch a queen lay - it took all day, so a short moment was plenty of time to watch. It was the busy part of the day, right before midday meal so the Grounds were almost deserted. Seven swirled eggs lay half buried in the sand, and Cytiath rested until, the next one was ready. Illiri wasn’t there, so Kellir called out to the queen - "May I come and see your eggs, beauteous Cytiath?"

Kellir entered, and sat in the tiers - just watching. Cytiath moved slowly, then flared her wings and hissed as she laid the eighth and ninth in rapid succession. "Does it hurt Cytiath?" he asked. The Queen snorted derisively. "Ooh. Sorry I asked." Kellir said, cringing inwardly.

"How would you describe it then?" he asked, hoping he wasn’t annoying the queen. That would be a bad thing.

"Who, by the egg, are you talking to, Cytiath?" the tiny woman demanded.

Kellir drew a sharp breath. Cytiath had Named him - a mark of respect.

"I see…" Illiri said, crossing the sands to the stands where Kellir sat. "I suppose you fancy Standing for my precious’ clutch." Illiri said, looking over Kellir with a practiced eye. They were of an age.

"No Ma’am." Kellir responded respectfully. "Cytiath says there is not an egg for me." Illiri snorted.

"Oh, shut up!" Illiri snapped, and Kellir backed up, a bit startled that this fragile-seeming young woman was so vicious. He got up and started for the door. "Not you, Kellir... Oh I’m sorry!" Illiri tried to appologize, but Kellir knew from experience that moody women were better avoided.

"It’s okay, Illiri. Relax. Ikara wanted me to help serve lunch today, and if I don't go now, I'll be late." Kellir said, making his retreat.

Illiri crossed the sands and looked at the flacid eggs cradled in the hot sands. "None of these is for Kellir?" she asked her queen.

No; Cytiath said, almost sadly. but he will Impress - he is strong.

Illiri smiled. "That's good to hear."

As the meal was ending, a blue firelizard appeared in the dining hall, flying in circles and chirping agitatedly. He held a note in his foreclaws, but couldn't decide who he was supposed to deliver it to. Suddenly, as if he'd been scolded, he dropped the note on the table between Tiyanni and Illiri, and vanished Between. Tiyanni picked up the note and unrolled it, reading it carefully. "It seems..." she said, "the eggs at SilverMoon are rapidly hardening, and they're still short candidates with potential."

A murmur ran among the Searchriders, as they quickly discussed who they could possibly take from Ryslen. Illiri spoke up. "Tiyanni, I was speaking with Cytiath this noon, and she is convinced that Kellir is a worthy candidate."

Kellir was stunned. Luckily for the riders he was serving desert to, he didn't spill the tray. Tiyanni beamed. "How about it, Kellir? Do you accept Cytiath's impromptu Search?"

"Yes, Ma'am!" Kellir said, "I'd be honored to Stand at SilverMoon on Queen Cytiath's recommendation."

He would make a great diplomat. Litayth observed, causing Tiyanni to smile.

"Good. We'll have someone convey you there as soon as you are packed." The Weyrwoman said, looking out at the mass of assembled riders.

"Isemoth and I would be glad to take him." Tylar volunteered.

"Thank you, Tylar." Tiyanni said, smiling at the helpful greenrider.

And so it was. Kellir was off to SilverMoon Weyr, to prove Cytiath right.

SO does he?