Summer Festival - THE AFTER PARTY! - Ending Soon!

[Shivased]

After three days of exciting events, close-cut competitions and various festive games, the Riddermark Summer Festival in Meduseld was drawing to a close, but not before one last night of food, drink and merriment.

The M Meduseld tents pitched in the fields just outside Edoras has been re-decorated with candles, tables, chairs and lanterns, a space cleared for a stage and dance floor, a bar and buffet laid out awaiting the guests. There is even a small wooden fire placed in the centre of one of the connecting teepees, to bring warmth and light to all those gathering within the tents even as the clear skies outside fade through blue to orange, purple to black. The night air is cool, but someone has kindly packed the canvas sod-cloth with straw so as to prevent the wind slipping under the canvas and playing havoc with people's skirts. Closed off from the world outside and lit in an almost romantic light, the tent itself feels almost like an ethereal escape, and those perceptive of eye might event spot the odd the pink sequin glinting among the rugs laid underfoot like tiny fairy fire-flies.

At the door of the tent is a large sign that states, in big letters - NO CAVALRY UNIFORMS OR RANKS PERMITTED

Only a few hours ago the Campian Tournament had come to a close, and now all the festival spectators and competitors had bedecked themselves in their finest party-gowns and gathered here to enjoy drinking and socialising. For who were unable to attend every event are eager to hear the official announcement of each event's winners, some victors had come to enjoy a big cheer and round of applause. A few had been lured here by the promise and fine food a good wine. There had even been rumour that there would be some additional awards handed out, for those who had taken part in numerous events or who had caught the eyes of the event organisers.

IT'S PARTY TIME

OOC Rules:-
- This thread is open to anyone from any kingdom, whether you joined in with the earlier festival threads or not
- The usual plaza rules apply
- Please keep your posts IC, and at least 200 characters long.
- Any OOC comments/questions should be in white at the bottom of your posts or alternatively put in the Festival Planning Thread
- No godmoding please; the First Marshal and her buddy the HCMA are helping to run this event so cavalry people can have a night off
- As First Marshal I have arranged for some NPC Dryhtgumas and Sperewigends to act as security, and they will be encouraging people to hand in weapons at the tent entrance. It is a party after all!
-No Cavalry uniforms or ranks please. This means no Cavalry signatures with insignias.


Some OOC comments:-
- We appreciate that at least one of the competitions (the Campian tournament) is still ongoing however after the next round is over (this coming Thur) that will move to sudden death so we should have our Tournament Champion shortly.
- Once Campian is finished, either @Allafyrefleorhtlig or I will be making an in-character announcement declaring all the event winners so they can each have their moment centre stage. Please show your support with cheers and applause.

- If you have any nominations for special awards for multi-thread involvement, please contact either Allacan or myself (privately if possible so we can surprise people in the thread; on Discord as Beorhtlig#1176 (Allacan) Shivased#6145 (Shivased) or by email at [email protected] (Allacan) [email protected] (Shivased). Alternatively in white text in the Festival planning thread and we will trust people not too peep.

- In the meantime please role-play showing up in your party-gowns, chatting about your experiences in the festival and enjoying the buffet and drinks. When the last competition thread is finished either Shiva or I will do a big IC announcement.

- Please note that this thread will be closing with a bit of a bang and a blaze of glory, so keep your eyes open for updates from either Allacan or myself.

[Nia]

Nia couldn’t actually put her finger on exactly why it had been this particular festivity, of all the many goings on around the place which she had recently been made aware of, which had finally convinced her to hop in the make-shift boat she had recently fashioned and paddle down the Entwash, making the journey south to her home of many moons ago.

She supposed one reason was that she had received early enough notice of the get-together that she did not fear arriving last and having to insert herself forcibly (and to her mind, awkwardly) into a pre-formed group of mingling guests, or else be left mooching around on the outskirts of the party, dithering over whether to stay or go. So shrugging off her usual trepidation of making an appearance anywhere that was not hidden away under the eaves of Fangorn Forest, Nia had donned the only semi-formal attire she owned, a simple dark, cotton pleated dress with a tie-up front and an accompanying leather belt (upon which a useful travelling pouch and knife-sheath was attached), and set off south.

A general gloom had settled on the dying embers of the day as Nia made the final steps of her journey towards the beacon of light that surely must be the party ahead. The canopy of the tent glowed alluringly against the darkening inky sky beyond. Having had neither the foresight nor inclination to bring anything much to tidy up her appearance upon arrival, she pulled her fingers carelessly through her fair hair, before deciding simply to sweep it into a loose ponytail, tied with a ribbon. She brushed some non-existent leaves from her shoulders (this was becoming something of a habit since her move to Fangorn), and quickened her pace, drawing her wool cloak around her to keep out the chill of the evening air.

She arrived, gratefully offloading the only ‘weapon’ she had on her: a rather old and small, but none the less weighty knife into the open hands of one of the obliging security guards stood at the entrance. Remarkably, it appeared she was actually the first guest to arrive. Although, Nia thought to herself, it's not actually that surprising - notwithstanding the length of her journey - everyone else is probably still wrapping up from their participation in the final events of the festival.

She hoped, a little belatedly, that it wouldn’t appear odd her joining just for this part of the celebration. But then her eyes landed on the table ahead, laden with refreshments, and the thought was pushed promptly from her mind; she made a beeline to the nearest end of the table and drank in the options available before her – “but what to try first?” she muttered aloud.

[Allacan ob Burzum]

It had been a manic effort to wrangle all the younger sperewigends and dryhtgumas (and a couple of trainees, she had discovered, which might explain the lack of discipline) together so that they could re-decorate the M Meduseld tent. However, eventually they all stepped up to the task with admirable enthusiasm, especially once Allacan shared some of her plans for the evening entertainment and they, with mischievous glints in their eye, discovered that maybe being on guard duty wouldn't mean they would miss out on all of the fun.

They all stepped back to admire their handiwork, completely oblivious that this entire time Allacan had been deftly diverting them from the two curtained locations where Zôrzimril and Zarâm were sequestered out of sight. Allacan gave a sigh of relief that she had successfully co-ordinated both the task delegated to her by her friend, the First Marshal Shivased, and keeping the hidden locations of her two dubious allies from being disturbed, and complimented the team on the handiwork. "Excellent job everyone. We've got seating, a few tables, a vaulted fire-pit, a space to use as a stage, the buffet and bar all fully set up with..." her words trailed off as she spotted the only thing lacking in the scene.

"Damnit, menus! Where are the menus! And the drinks-lists!" she declared in sudden recognition of the oversight and then waved the other eager soldiers away. "No, no, no, you all get to your duties, we need people at the doors to disarm the first guests, someone else behind the bar and buffet to serve. You guys get to, I'll go fetch the the menus and drinks lists" she said as she ducked through the tent's sheltered rear door and ran over to the haphazardly discarded boxes and carts that had been used to bring the supplies down from Edoras.

And so it was that when her old friend Nia first arrived at the tent, Allacan was shoulder deep in a crate out back and not present to welcome her in. All the same, it was not long before she located the standing clip-boards and menus and, balancing them carefully in her hands, walked the long way back around to the front entrance, where she spotted the two guards feeling smug about having confiscated what appeared to be nothing more sinister than an eating knife. "Oh for Bema's sake, there's more lethal things on the buffet table" she said disparagingly, gesturing across at the badger-roast, the carving-knives, steak knives and carving forks. and almost losing her load while she did so. "Pass that here. You don't need to remove every sharp implement from every guest, just the ones that clearly only suit the purpose of injuring someone, understand?" she finished as they shamefacedly placed the knife on top of the bundle in her hands.

She headed over to where the lady - the first and currently only guest - was waiting patiently at the bar and called out to her. "Excuse me, miss, I believe this belongs to you? Please forgive the guards, they a little over-ambitioNIA!" she interrupted herself mid-syllable in enthusiasm as she spotted her old friend, swiftly depositing her bundle down on the bar so she could sweep the woman into an enthusiastic hug. "I hadn't dreamed I would see you back here in Rohan. You look... absolutely stunning; I dare say the ent-draughts must have a preservative effect; you haven't aged a day, and here's me with greying hair" she said, gesturing to her uncharacteristically perfectly-black hair, forgetting for a moment she had died it a raven colour only a days ago and thus erased all signs of grey along with her usual rohir-blonde colouring. "I'm running a little behind I'm afraid, today has been absolutely manic, I don't suppose you could give me a hand putting these menus out so I can gain my liberty a little earlier and we can catch up properly?" she begged of her old comrade.

[Gwai]

Gwai had thought she would be late to the party, but as she walked swiftly toward the tent that hours before had been the site of the Mx Meduseld contest, she was surprised to find she was in fact one of the earliest ones. She paused for a moment, startled, as she had taken her time with some other activities prior to arriving. Shrugging, she decided it was likely a good thing she was on the early side. She smoothed the skirt of her long light blue dress with flowing sleeves, which, while not her finest, was looser than most.

There were guards outside the tent confiscating weapons. Gwai had not brought any visible weapons with her to the after party (she did not believe the guards would frisk her and find the dagger inside her boot), and she was correct, as they saluted and waved her inside. She did so hate to be completely unarmed.

The smell of cooking food hit her, and Gwai realized she was fairly hungry. She had earlier had a few fried badgers bites Elarith had kindly shared with her, but she felt she was due for a real meal. Still, she didn't want to be the first one ordering food, stuffing her face as her friends as well as the out of town invitees arrived, so she instead headed straight toward the bar. She was going to try not to drink too much, in anticipation of needing to do other things later tonight which would likely require a clear head, but one or two glasses would be appropriate, and would not draw attention. She would switch to Dr Pepper soon.

A moment later and a glass of the Rivendell White in her hand, Gwai wandered over to where Allacan and Nia were putting some menus out, Allacan commenting on how busy the day had been. Gwai silently agreed. More busy than most probably realized. Smiling at the two, Gwai said, "Westu freonds hal! The hall looks lovely, did you do the decorations, Allacan?" Gwai asked politely, figuratively biting her tongue not to speak about anything other than a banality. What ears were listening, if any, she was unsure. With more spontaneity she picked up one of the menus "These are amazing! I didn't realize you had such lovely handwriting!" she exclaimed, studying the notice at the bottom of the drinks menu with curiosity. Turning her attention to the other person, Nia, Gwai said apologetically, "I feel as if I might know you, but I can't think of your name! I'm Gwai!" she said with a friendly smile.

[Lail]

Lailyn's mood upon entering the M Meduseld tent that evening was like the difference between night and day from how she felt during the contest itself. Now she was at ease, her shoulders relaxed in her honey-yellow gown with leaves embroidered along the edges, and she was eagerly anticipating much merriment and joy to be had.

She smiled at the Sperewigend who requested for her to shed any weapons. "Oh, there's no need. I gave up weaponry well and truly when I retired," she replied and made her way into the tent, trusting in the Cavalry to protect her now. Though why would there be any need for that at the festival party?

For a moment, she paused on the threshold, taking it all in. The beautiful lighting, the pleasantly glowing fire, the well-laden table of food and the bar calling her name. It was really quite romantic, that is, until the person behind her stepped on the hem of her dress and she stared, realizing she was rather holding up the entryway. "Excuse me, I am sorry," she told them before she headed toward the bar.

With a Hunigmeodu in hand and the first sweet sips sampled, Lail spied a familiar face. "Good evening, happy festival!" she greeted those gathered together. With a smile at Nia, catching Gwai's last words, she greeted her. "You do look familiar...Have we met? In either case, I'm Lail."

"Gwai, you look just lovely in that blue. I wanted to tell you you did a remarkable job judging the Mx Meduseld contest!" It was then that she at last recognized Allacan, who had graciously assisted with her horse at the stables. "Allacan! Its very good to see you again. Its thanks to her I was able to make it to the festival at all," she told the others and nodded her head at Allacan appreciatively.

[Rowena Ellenweorc]

With Audley
Rowena sighed. There was no way she was wearing a ball-gown. All of hers were in Gondor anyway. For good reason. But Allacan had pretty much ordered her to come as Rowena Ellenweorc, not Rowena the Marshal or Rowena the Bealdorhaelend. Well if that was the case, Rowena wore pants and a tunic, usually sleeveless, and usually black. So that, along with her favorite riding boots was exactly what she wore. The tunic was low cut both in front and back, enough to show a tattoo of little songbird taking flight. Her arms were tattooed with various designs: roses, lilies, plants, reminders of her children. She wore her hair up, revealing on the back of her neck her newest tattoo, a dagger exactly like the one Jakie had given Audley, err Leylann. (Totally just made up half her tattoos because I know she has them but can't remember what they are! They're usually covered by her uniform! I only remember the one that isn't usually seen)
She walked up to the bar and laughed at the little note at the bottom of the drinks menu. She had a distinct feeling that may have been written with her in mind. If not, well someone had unwittingly played it well. 'Dearcter Paeper and Sceap Hrycg'
'Make that two,' a long haired honey blonde haired man said appearing right behind her and wrapping his arms around her waist and his hair falling over her shoulder. 'Hello beautiful.'
Rowena smirked and nuzzled her head into her husband's neck. 'Hello. I hope your day's been better than mine.' She laughed.
'Mmm, well I hope your day is better now that I am here.'
'Always.'
'Good.'
'Because now I can flip you on your hindquarters.'
'What did I do this time?'
'I dunno.'
Audley laughed. 'Just for old time's sake, huh?'
'Something like that.'
'I could start going full bodyguard mode, if you want.'
'I'll pass.'
Audley smirked, and said, 'Uh oh, I think I see a bear… Out of the way! I got this.'
'AUDLEY!'
He was already pretending to go for the non-existent sword at his side.
'Are you seriously wearing Rhys' leather pants right now?' Rowena asked changing the subject.
'Yeah why?'
'Cause you're more muscular than he is… And he's damn muscular.'
'So?'
Rowena poked him at the hip. 'Too tight.'
'I don't see why that's a problem.'
'I'm a --' And then she clamped her mouth shut. Right, she was here to get away from Cavalry. Right.
'A what?'
'Nevermind. I forgot, I was ordered to try and be a civilian for once.' She laughed drily.
'By who?' Audley asked. He was curious who the hell had that kind of influence on his wife.
'Nevermind. So wait, you're wearing tight leather pants and a loose long sleeved tunic? Who dressed you?'
'Rhys. He said it'd be a good way to peak your interest. Looks like he was right.'
Rowena rolled her eyes. 'Sometimes you two are like an old married couple with the way you conspire together.'
'I'm pretty sure that we're the old married couple, hun.'
'You know what I mean!'

[Elarith]

Amethyst, high fashion dwarf

Amethyst had been preparing to leave town, having concluded her business and come a disappointing second in the M. Meduseld competition. It was Edoras’ loss, she thought as she crammed material into her travelling bags. “Sequinned bumflaps, who’da thought it?” the dwarf muttered under her breath. Krystalle mewed balefully in agreement. She squashed the case shut, sat on it, and tightened the straps as well as she could. Hopefully it would hold.

She made her way into the common room of the inn, looking for a serving boy she could cajole into loading her baggage onto her cart in the morning. It was very quiet, barely a soul in sight. “Where’s everyone at?” she asked the innkeeper as he wiped down his counter.
"Oh, probably gone to take a look at the festival after-party. They’ll end up in here soon enough though, mark my words. They never provide enough food at these award dos,” he replied.
“After party?” Amethyst echoed, one eye twitching slightly. “AWARDS?!?”
The dwarf tore from the hall, back to her room, and flung open the over-stuffed cases. With the mania only a dwarf in search of treasure can possess, she hunted for one of her outfits. “Where is it, Krystalle? I know I brought it...” she cried, hurling clothes left and right. At last her hand closed on something silky. “YES!” Triumphantly she held up her After Party Couture outfit that she never travelled without. Admittedly she had never needed it until now, but this totally justified its years of luggage space.

Within minutes she had changed into it, combed her hair and re-plaited her beard, and thrown on as much jewellery as she could manage. Amethyst pushed Krystalle into a handbag and hurtled off to the festival tent.

Approaching the tent at last, she slowed and took a few deep breaths, tucking a stray beard hair back in place. Running in looking sweaty and dishevelled would not do for the dwarf who had almost - so close! - been the new Mx Meduseld. She strode to the entrance, heels clicking on the hard ground, but one of the guards made to stop her. "All weapons to be checked in here, miss," the sperewigend said, politely enough. Amethyst laughed in her high tinkling laugh that she reserved for what she thought were stupid questions. "Oh darling, where would I be concealing a weapon in this?" she asked, flicking a hand down the length of her dress. It was true - there was no room to spare for even the slimmest dagger.
"Your bag, then?"
"Oh sure, you can check in - no Krystalle, NO! No clawing the nice guard! I'm sorry, put this handkerchief over it nice and tight, the bleeding will stop eventually. Might need a stitch or two, that's all."
With her bag clear of all weapons save a needle-sharp kitten, the unmaimed guard of the pair stood aside.
"Can you throw the door open dramatically please? That way it'll be right for my idiom," Amethyst asked.
"Whatever you want, lady," he replied, pulling back the tent flap with as florid a flourish as one can manage with a chunk of canvas.
The dwarf strode in, then struck a pose, waiting for the light to hit her dazzling golden gown and matching headpiece. There were no audible gasps or fainting bystanders, which was a pity, but when she looked around the tent she saw that actually there weren't all that many people there yet, and most were busy by the bar and the food.
"And this is why it's best to be late, Krystalle," she grumbled into her handbag.

The food did smell good, though, she could see why the partygoers had gravitated straight to it. But after such a frantic time of getting ready, she needed a drink. She walked purposefully to the bar, ordered herself a Meduseld Red, and turned to see if any of her fellow Mx Meduseld contestants had come to the party.

[Dimcairien Luiniel]

Éomund slowly entered the huge tent for the After Party. He wasn't certain why he had agreed to come, but when the HCMA asked a new cavalry recruit to do something, it was probably wise to do it. When the Sperewigend approached him about handing over weapons, Éomund looked at her and stated, "I haven't been trusted to touch a sword yet, let alone carry one about with me." Which was entirely true and to be honest, he was a little nervous about learning how to properly handle a blade. Probably with the man who was in uncle in all but blood. Perhaps someday he would be man enough to possess his father's sword.

He soon found himself standing over by the food and drinks table close to where the HCMA Allacan and a few others (Nia, Gwai, Lailyn) stood and looked over the options, wondering what he should choose. All the options looked and sounded so tasty. He wasn't quite sure what was expected of him at the party. And even if he should try to approach anyone. Why was no one wearing uniforms? He had absolutely no desire to speak out of turn to anyone, and if no one had insignias on, how was he supposed to address people?

Éomund continued to stand awkwardly by the food table. If he stayed her long enough, perhaps someone would say something to him and he wouldn't need to be the first to speak. Tonight should be fun, hearing the award ceremony would be nice, but why did these parties always have to involve talking to other people who he didn't know? Parties had never been something he had enjoyed as a child, well, he and his mother never attended them as they never had the time to spare. But, if was to be a member of the Cavalry, parties in some fashion or another would probably need to be gotten used to.

He rocked back and forth on his feet. At least he wasn't standing in the Dragon Room at the moment. Thinking of the Dragon Room, he wondered if the other newest recruit would be attending the party. He couldn't recall her name, but it might be nice to see someone who also wouldn't know everyone in the tent.

[Veowyn]

Caddrick Halwende

Ha! Yes! He had finally managed to get away from his little sister tag-a-long! She had been following him all over the festival, for days! He loved that redheaded kid, but jeesh! How was he supposed to do anything with her attached to his leg all the time. With their older siblings doing more of their own thing for a while, Ailura had less people to bug. So who was she going to bug? She was glad that Ma had given her a different job for now.

He found his was to the after party, after dressing for the occasion. His finest shirt, a light material, dyed a light green. It had dark green stitching, and embroidery, and a leather cord for a lace at the top. His pants were brown. This was Rohan, getting to and from fancy events sometimes ended up a dirty affair, so brown hid most of it. His blonde hair was pulled half up. He had almost given in to his sister's suggestion of braids, but had decided he did not want to put in the extra fuss.

He made his way over to the table with the drinks, and found a glass with some of the summer berry juice. He noticed his Aunt Rowena and Uncle Audley. He gave them a wave. He also nodded a greeting to Éomund, and others who his blue eyes met. He was going to make his way to the food next, because what teenage boy could turn down party food?!

[The Good Hunter]

Frost, Human (he/him)

The After-Party was going to be biggest party Rohan had seen in years. It was going to have more food and drink than even his imagination could contain. There was going to be music and dancing and singing. So he had been told. Frost, however, entered the giant tent in a foul mood. After being shepherded out of the Campian, he and Taeth had had a rather frank conversation about his habits and the need for him to lay low. Apparently, as Frost had been made aware after the coast was clear, the parents of the child he’d taken the apple from had demanded some sort of draconian balancing of the scales. Oh how he had waxed poetic about the system of justice in his hometown of Umbar, praising the complicated system of reprisal and comeuppance the port city had in place. Whatever it was that held sway over the Riddermark was something altogether uncivilized, so he had told her. That, naturally, upset her and she told him in no uncertain terms that she had no desire to arrest him but she would be left with no choice if he didn’t stop or at least act more subtle. Sullenly, he had agreed, but still cursed the stupid whiny child and his overprotectively bombastic parents. He shouted “it was an apple!” several times in the alleyways as loud as he could to a few disinterested stray cats and a badger hiding under the crawl space of some abandoned building. Birds squawked angrily at him and he reciprocated by tossing rocks at them. His head hurt and he wanted to drink. Taeth, however thought such a thing was a bad idea given his current physical state. He insisted it was just a headache from getting his bell rung in the Campian (where apparently he was a target of half the contestants). Lastly, she suggested he keep his distance during the party, she said something about important Cavalry business and the stupid apple business but Frost couldn’t remember what exactly she had said. He was hurt by her desire to keep the Cavalry part of her separate from him, despite the fact that he understood her predicament (there was a number of activities he had no intention of telling her about). He’d left her house early, not wishing to crowd her as she readied for the party and needing some air. The night was cool, a drastic improvement over the heat of the day. He had taken again to wearing his original attire, a black flaxen tunic laced at the throat with a bit of leather and long sleeves with matching black travelling pants.

He entered the tent and was greeted by a vast combination of smells and sounds. While there weren’t many people here yet, the din was practically a roar in the Númenórean’s ears. He needed a drink. He surveyed the occupants of tent, hoping to find someone he recognized. His gaze briefly hovered on the woman he’d nearly been caught by at the Mx Meduseld competition. What was her name again? Gwai? Taeth must have mentioned the name to him at some point. Momentarily, he considered going up to her, but quickly he thought better of it. She was already in the middle of speaking to others (was that the campwisa from the Campian?), and likely she was a member of the Cavalry and he had been told to stay out of Cavalry affairs that night. He harrumphed and turned his attention to the food. The variety was indeed vast. Taeth had not exaggerated when she told him of the array of food. After hovering several feet away, he nearly bumped into a young man that had somehow completely escaped his attention (Éomund). Frost looked him over and, upon seeing how young, nervous, and waifish he looked, coughed and scooted passed him with a nod, “’Cuse me lad, but food and alcohol are not to be waited on.”

Frost picked out the fried lamb and potato dish and something called Dearcter Paeper. The lamb was good and the drink was fizzily perverse he drank it all and had another glass. Where was Zôr? He hadn’t seen her at the Campian, where had she run off to? Hopefully she hadn’t been treated with the same passive aggressive hostility he had. She needed to try this drink. He downed another cup of the brown plum flavor drink and grinned in spite of himself.

Walpurga, Human (she/her)

She wasn’t quite sure what she was doing here. This After Party seemed like it as more for the people of Edoras or the higher ups in the Cavalry, of which she was neither. Still, it had been nice to be included. She hadn’t had time to prepare or ready herself so she appeared in the tent in the same riding clothes she’d come to town in. Thankfully, there weren’t many people here yet and she didn’t feel utterly underdressed. She hadn’t been told exactly why she was needed at the party, only that she was to stand by and wait for a signal.

Until then, she decided she was going to have as much of the Edoras cuisine as she could. She made a beeline to the buffet table and loaded the plate with enough food to feed three people (at least). She only noticed the young man standing awkwardly to one side of the food when she nearly collided with him. It took most of her concentration and balance in the next half second to not dump the massive plate of food down his shirt front.

“Oh Bema’s breath!” she swore, swirling around the keep the contents from spilling. “Wait a moment,” she said when she managed to slow her momentum. “I know you don’t I? We were in the Dragon Room together, right?” Her blue eyes twinkled. “I didn’t expect either of us to get invited to this. Have you eaten already? I think I have more than enough to share. Would you like to sit with me? Oh, I’m Walpurga, by the way. What’s your name?”

OOC: (off camera actions by Taeth written with her permission, also Frost is concussed and can’t be trusted necessarily to the accuracy of past events and conversations and he’s also being a moody baggins so take his attitudes with a heavy grain of salt.)

[Gwai]

Gwai was studying the menu when she heard a now familiar voice call her. "Westu Lailyn hal!" Gwai said with a smile, glad to see her. "I'm glad you're here! And thank you," she responded, smoothing the skirt of her blue dress. "I'm trying to branch out a bit and wear something that isn't green," she said with a laugh. As Lailyn remarked on the Mx Meduseld contest, Gwai replied, "The contest was so much fun to judge, although harder than I ever thought it would be!" she confided, taking a small sip of her white wine. "Did you take part in any of the other festival events?" she asked curiously.

The door to the tent was suddenly open in quite a dramatic fashion, and in walked Amethyst. Gwai couldn't help but smile, she wouldn't have expected any less of an entrance. "There is Amethyst!" Gwai mentioned to Lailyn, waving at the dwarf in a friendly matter, and gesturing to join them if she cared to after getting a drink. Her attention was momentarily distracted, however, when in walked the man she recognized from earlier today, who had been studying the poles in this very tent quite attentively (Frost). If she wasn't mistaken, it was the same man who had also taken quite a clobber to the head in the recent campian tournament. Somewhat surprised he was here and not someplace resting after that fairly significant blow to the head, Gwai turned her attention to a young man who was standing somewhat awkwardly by the food table (Eomund). Gwai had heard there were several new cavalry recruits who had recently begun training, and she wondered if this was perhaps one of them. "Good evening," she said to the young man as he studied the menu options quite intently. "Did you enjoy the festival?" she asked him with a smile, wondering if he felt awkward, and well able to empathize.

[Nia]

Nia had just been eyeing up the large bowl of soup sat in large vats not too far from her end of the table. The aroma was swirling up in invisible clouds of deliciousness; chicken Nia thought to herself excitedly - one of her favourites - she would start with a hearty helping of that and then decide what drink to settle on for the evening. However, before she'd taken two steps towards the steaming bowl of soup, she was approached from behind by a dark haired woman who Nia had not noticed enter the tent, and who was in the middle of apologising for the over-zealous guards on the doors, before seeing Nia's face, and promptly engulfing her in an enormous hug. It had taken Nia barely a moment to recognise her friend of old (although the change in hair colour had given her a split-second's confusion!), and she was utterly delighted to be greeted so familiarly, all previous thoughts and concerns about feeling a little out of place banished without another thought.

"Alla!" she squealed happily, although at a pitch which was probably slightly too-high for most people's comfort. "Of course, I'd be delighted to help" she responded, helping herself to a stack of the menus which her old friend was laden with, and beginning to distribute them around the tent, laughing merrily as she reclaimed the knife which she had handed over on the door. "To be honest, I felt like I ought to hand something over, and that was all I had on me," she called over her shoulder with a sheepish grin as she propped up one of the drinks and food menus each at the back of the table nearest her.
"This place looks simply wonderful, by the way" Nia commented, eagerly waving vaguely at the tent's interior, pleased with everything from the fire to the rugs; "and so do you, my friend! Took me a moment to realise who it was with the dark hair though..."

Just then another woman joined them. "Westu hal!" Nia returned Gwai's greeting with a smile, which broadened when she realised she hadn't said that particular greeting in an unbelievably long time, and it felt very good. "I must admit, your face is very familiar to me, but it has been many, many moons since I was last in these lands. So we may well have crossed paths previously. My name is Nia" she said by way of (re-)introduction, just as another (Lailyn) joined their ranks and mentioned the Mx Meduseld contest, which pricked up Nia's ears immediately.
"Oh you were judging the Mx Meduseld contest!" she exclaimed as she looked back at Gwai, now feeling sorry she had missed every single one of the events of the festival, many of which she had very much enjoyed watching in her youth. "How was it? What were the highlights this year?" the question was directed at no one in particular, she wanted to hear everything.

[Shivased]

Shivased entered the former M Meduseld tent trailed by a Sperewigend she had appropriated for her own uses for a brief afternoon. He was one of the wigends that had been assigned to help with the festival, but she had grabbed him to carry the trophies for the badger chase. Put them there, then you are dismissed, she told the wigend, pointing in the direction of the cleared area where she assumed the announcements of winners would be made.

She adjusted the skirts of her sea-green gown and tucked a stray lock of red hair behind her ear as she looked around the tent. She had changed quickly after the end of the festival and her hair was still rather damp from her dunking in the water after the Bathtub race, but at least the rest of her was dry now. She adjusted her skirts again, feeling self-conscious. There had been some mis-communication between her housekeeper, ceorl and herself and she had been sent a Gondorian dress to wear, not one of her Rohirric. As a result the gown was a rather fine sea-green one, with silver and dark blue embroidery at the square collar and at the cuffs and hem. The sleeves were tight to her elbows, then flared into a sort of ruffle that she hated, but was fashionable according to her grandmother, and overall it was much more elegant than what she usually wore in Rohan. She was fervently wishing for one of her nicer, emerald-green gowns that didn't make her feel like she stood out like a sore thumb.

Taking up a deep breath and giving up on trying to make herself comfortable in the gown she moved further into the tent, heading for the refreshments. She needed a drink. A drink would help her relax. She paused at the menu and scanned it, snorting an un-dignified laugh at the note about Bilewitdox. She wasn't sure why they would have even considered serving the Cavalry initiation drink at the after-party, unless they wanted to send everyone home in wheel-barrows, but she was glad they had chosen not to. Nobody needed to drink that vile concoction.

She chose a glass of the Marshal's Whiskey, glad there was something strong to drink, along with badger burger and a slice of Ofetthlaf, then made her way over to a table. She was tired, a bit sore, and her feet hurt from spending the afternoon in her soaking wet boots. She took a good swig of the whiskey and washed it down with a bite of the badger burger as she took in the tent and who was there. She loved how the festival drew people from all places of Rohan, so while she recognized some, others were unfamiliar to her.

[Lail]

"I intended to merely watch everything this year," she told Gwai. Still trying to resettle into the rhythm of Rohirric life, she hadn't felt quite ready or energetic enough for Badger Chasing or Tub Racing, but she'd hoped to cheer others on. "I regret some things came up after M Meduseld and I didn't see as much as I hoped. Did you manage to stay afloat in the Tub Race?" she asked.

When Gwai nudged her, Lail waved at Amethyst and shot the dwarf a smile. What a delight to see her again at the festival. Hopefully, Lail could make her acquaintance better and ask about getting the design for her fabulous outfit from Round Two. "Well look at that!" she exclaimed as she saw the dwarf's outfit, full of admiration. "I think she's really outdone herself now!"

Lail turned to Nia with a laugh. How could you sum up the highlights of M Meduseld? It had so many ups and downs it had felt like living in a real life Saddle Soap production. Though some parts of the event had touched her deeply, Lail felt more comfortable focusing on some of the lighter aspects of the event for now. She'd worn her heart on her sleeve so openly the last few days, it needed some time to rest.

"I don't even know where to begin," she told Nia with a shake of her head. "But I'd say you're looking at one right now," she gestured at Amethyst. "There were many stars of the show and I thought everyone did a spectacular job, especially the speeches. I don't envy Gwai having to judge. The only way I can think to describe it is calling it a whirlwind. Have you ever heard of bumflaps before? I think we all learned something new..."

[Elarith]

Movement caught her eye, and Amethyst turned towards it to notice a couple of Rohirs waving at her. It was Gwai, one of the judges, and the other looked familiar... Oh! It was the lass who had gone out in the first round, and had gotten quite upset later when some boor had suggested the men at Helm's Deep weren't very brave. She climbed as gracefully as she could down from her stool and sashayed towards where they stood with another woman, glass in one hand, handbag in the other (Krystalle was snoring quietly now after the earlier bloodbath).

"Hello my darlings!" she cried as she reached them. "Beautiful outfits! I love this shade of yellow on you with that pretty leaf pattern. Yellow and golds are very in this season," she said knowingly to Lail, who seemed cheerier. "And Gwai, esteemed judge, the flowy blue number looks lovely. And who is this?" she asked, spotting Nia. "Simple, elegant, chic. Yes, it works," she said, appraising her outfit. "Are you all well? What's good to eat around here?" She took out her pince-nez from a tiny pouch, unfolded them and peered at the menu.

[Thalionwen Hunigfolm]

Thalionwen, Just Making A Brief Appearance

After an extremely frenetic day of getting over-involved in Campian and rushing off to Edoras's outskirts to oversee the set up of a secret side project, Thali wandered into the Summer Festival After Party looking rather frazzled. She still had on her black linen gown, and the ostentatious gold bracelet she'd been given as a gift by her true love. Though said true love had gone completely MISSING after Mx Meduseld, which was a most vexing turn of events. He really needed to stop doing that. Thali only hoped he was off visiting with horses, as opposed to stealing them like the last time he went missing.

But, she'd promised Taethowen to make a brief appearance at the After Party, so here she was.

"Weapons?" a Sperewigend asked at the door. "You'll have to turn them over."

"Oh no, I don't carry any," Thali said breezily, which was the truth. "I don't need weapons, I've got friends instead."

But as she entered the tent, a frown etched itself across her face. Clearly she'd come too early, for friends were quite thin on the ground as of yet. There was Gwai, who she knew a little from her time in the Cavalry ages back. But they were more acquaintances--she hadn't had a chance to upgrade Gwai to the category of friend just yet, though she hoped to. She caught sight of Lail, and made a note to speak to her, but first she'd have to say something to Frost. He was standing near one of the serving tables looking absolutely awful, with alcohol in one hand, no less.

The healer in Thali bridled, and she crossed the room to stand at his side.

"Is that wise?" she asked, frowning down at his glass with concern. "I didn't like the way those blows you took at Campian looked. And maybe you can fool the rest of Rohan's healers into thinking you're alright by shaking your hair about and cracking ridiculous jokes, but you can't fool me. I don't think you're well at all. You shouldn't be here--you should be resting, and you should let me look you over. No, don't try to flirt with me over that, you know I'm impervious to your wiles. But I am worried about you, as a friend."

[Zôrzimril]

Zôrzimril

Zôr sat still and silent between tent flaps. Her legs were stretched before her, and she leaned her back and head against a tent pole. She had retreated into this hiding place after a woman from the cavalry (Allacan) had entered the tent and waved her and Zarâm away, promising to signal the hour appointed for the tent's demise. Zôr had had plenty of time to ponder all this while the tent was redecorated, and she was skeptical. They could be an ally, but it would be too easy for a Rohir to simply not give a signal - thus preserving the tent and much innocent life. So she kept her tinderbox close, ready to act on her own if the hour grew late with no signal from the mysterious person. She knew the food had been laid out when the aroma of cooked meat and vegetables wafted through the canvas. Zôr's stomach grumbled.

She peeked outside; the sun was setting. It was getting a bit chilly in between this tent flap, she thought, picking at some grass before her. She had no intention of sitting here the entire night. Rather, she would emerge once a sufficient crowd had gathered for her to slip in unnoticed. She was eager to take advantage of the provisions and drink and, of course, to cause some trouble.

Soon enough, people trickled into the tent. Zôr heard voices raised in recognition and greeting as old friends complimented one another on their dresses or their new hairstyles. She noted the guards at the entrance stopping people and commanding them to turn over their weapons. She supposed being the only armed party guest might draw unwanted attention, so she unbuckled her belt and laid her sword and dagger down beside the pole. The knife strapped to her right thigh, invisible beneath her skirt, could stay. She needed her tinderbox (she wished ruefully that she had a dress with pockets for this very moment), so her bag came along as well.

She stood and peered inside the tent. A fair crowd had gathered. Zarâm was still hidden, it seemed, but she saw Frost carrying a drink and plate of food. She frowned. He looked a bit out of sorts post-melee, agitated yet somehow unfocused.

When the people standing near her hiding place moved away loudly for drinks, Zôr slipped into the tent and made a beeline for the buffet. She picked up a helping of honey-glazed boar and took a bite. As she ate, she wandered to the bar where a young barkeep stood nervously. Despite her dislike of this place, she was prepared to sample the local spirits - alcohol was alcohol, after all. She stood in line, chewing the rich meat slowly to savor each bite. When her turn came, she leaned forward on the bar to present the low cut of her dress at its best angle. "One of those - ah, what are they called - Dearctur Pæpers, please, love. And pour in two fingers' worth of whiskey while you're at it." She smiled alluringly then took another bite of boar before accepting her drink and moving toward Frost.

But by now, he'd been accosted by a woman (Thali) who was telling him off for drinking while injured. Zôr had just decided to keep her distance for a while when she saw the thick, loose bracelet around the woman's slim wrist. It glinted gold in the lantern light. Zôrzimril grinned. The thing was not meant for a person of this woman's stature - its thick links looked heavy and unwieldy; the thing was about to fall off. Zôr set down her plate on a nearby table and walked purposefully past, approaching the woman from behind and bumping her arm to shake the bracelet loose. She deftly caught it and slid it into her bag in the blink of an eye.

"My apologies," she murmured, bringing her drink to her lips, averting her eyes to avoid recognition, and veering away. The drink was sweet and went down with a bite thanks to the whiskey - a strange but not altogether horrible combination. She took another sip and continued walking away from the woman and Frost to blend in with the crowd before the woman missed her trinket. She'd catch up with Frost later.

[Allacan ob Burzum]

Allacan, human, she-her

Allacan was rewarded with equal enthusiasm from her old friend, who seemed just as excited to be reunited as she was. They talked even as they put out the menus "Oh you silly mare, its not a gift-table" she laughed at Nia's declaration that she felt pressured to present something to the guards at the entrance. "And thank you! Its been a long time since I hosted a party, let alone one as big and prestigious as this, but thankfully Shivased instructions were clear and I had help" she said, gesturing at the number of other cavalry sperewigends and dryhtguma who were busying themselves around the tent, seeing to all the guests by serving food and drink. The tent was rapidly beginning to fill with guests, and Allacan found herself sighing with relief that it had been the compassionate and patient Nia who had arrived first.

"And thank you... I think?" she added, a little more dubiously, as Nia complimented her own appearance. She was wearing her usual riding trousers and boots with a simple home-spun shirt; she hadn't really had time to change into anything more fine between the mad rush from Campian to the Dragon Room and then down to here to get things set-up, and presently she was feeling a little flustered and under-dressed in comparison to all the other people. Then she remembered her change of locks and her eyes alighted with understanding."Oh you mean the hair?! This is nothing, I just fancied a change and thought it might make me stand out a little from the crowd" she said, attempting to be dismissive, although it was clear fro her blushing that she was touched by the compliment.

Right about then Gwai approached the pair with a glass of wine in her hand. The cavalry... Allacan mentally chastised herself not to consider people by their ranks here; this was an off-duty place for people to have fun, rank didn't matter right now... the rider was dressed in a light blue dress that truly complimented her attractive features, and Allacan found herself smiling appreciatively. "Gwai, you look stunning!"she said breathily, eyes appreciative right up until they caught a glimpse of riding boots beneath Gwai's dress and she had to composing herself. "I put the decorations up, but I have a feeling Taeth might have had something to do with designing them, they have her stitching, I think. Is she here yet?" she said, glancing around for her fellow Eastmarker... shield-maiden, she caught herself mentally again. Not thinking of people by their rank was proving harder than she had realised; she'd clearly been on duty too much recently. She needed a break. "And thank you for the compliment on my penmanship; there wasn't a whole lot else to practice in the far reaches of the Eastemnet during my recovery, so..." she shrugged in lieu of finishing her sentence, before adding hastily "Just don't let Shiva find out, or she'll have me doing all her official paperwork for her" she joked, glancing to check that the Marsha... Bema's sake Allacan! Stop doing that!... her best friend was not within hearing and signed in relief to stop her nursing a drink on the other side of the tent.

Another person joined them, someone Allacan recognised from Månsken ängar, and for the second time that night she found herself blushing in quick succession. "Oh, I just brushed down a couple of horses and got your guys some refreshments." she replied to Lailyn with uncharacteristic sheepishness. "Honestly, think nothing of it. I'm just glad you were able to make it here after all the drama in the M Meduseld competition. And I hope you won't take this the wrong way, but that honey-colour looks lovely on you, and that embroidery is so fine; who crafted it?" she asked curiously.

Lailyn barely had the chance to reply before Allacan spotted someone else had entered the tent and had made their way over to the bar. "Oh, I'm so sorry, please excuse me ladies, I just have to..." she politely extricated herself from the conversation between Nia, Gwai and Lailyn with only half an explanation, to rush over to where Rowena was standing with a man that must be her husband, Audley. "Rowena, I am so glad you made it." she said, hesitating at a moment at the intimacy between the two people. "Not interrupting anything, am I?" she queried with a mischievous grin, before turning to already harried looking bar-staff and saying "A triple of Allauisce beatha with ice please... oh don't look at me like that, this is supposed to be a party?! Let a woman have her drink!"

She turned back to Allacan as her drink was being poured. "I'm glad I'm not the only one who favoured practicality over flair in my clothing choice, I was afraid everyone would come in gowns and frocks and I would end up standing out like a sore thumb." she said, even in that moment catching a glimpse of Audley's tight leather pants and raising an eyebrow at Rowena teasingly. She received her drink from the waiter and without looking, took a long sip of the liquid and... promptly spat it back out again into the glass. "This isn't Allauisce!" she said, having discovered only tonic and ice in her glass, and she so hated tonic. She glanced down at her glass incredulously, noting that it lacked the dark amber and instead seemed to mock her with its transparent, clear lack of colour. She turned angrily back to the young Sperewigend manning the bar who, harried and confused by so many orders from so many different people and distracted by Zôrzimril's instruction to mix alcohol with the Rohirric national drink, had accidentally mixed the whiskey for her drink with Frost's Dearcter Paeper and put the tonic meant for his drink in her glass. Moments later, however, Thali approached Frost, whom Allacan recognised as being her injured patient from Campian, and remanded him for drinking alcohol.

Allacan glanced at Frost's glass, back at her own, and then eyed the bar-tender with barely restrained horror as the copper finally dropped. "You Nahar-damned nincompoop, what have you done?!"

OOC:- I had @Frostbite's permission for the NPC bar-staff to accidentally get his character drunk before posting this, so as to fit with already established canon from other threads but hopefully save him from Thali and Taeth's wrath.

---

NPC Shadowfox, human, they/them

Shadowfox had waited nervously outside the tent. They had arrived rather early, in the grand scheme of things, but then their anxiousness had gotten the better of them when they had seen the first guest approaching and they had disappeared around the back of the tent to take some deep breaths and steady their nerves. From between the canvas and the open fields, out of sight for now of the other party-goers, they listened carefully as the growing clamour of voices were raised in joy, surprise, and was that last declaration tinged with anger?

"You can do this" they whispered to themselves. "Its only a party. No-one is going to hurt you. Just... go in there, order a drink, smile and nod and bit, and then if you aren't enjoying yourself you can go home."

They started to make their way around the side of the tent, unsure if their recently shaved legs were carrying them to the tent entrance, or the path back to Meduseld, when they caught a glimpse of a magnificently-bedecked Amethyst bossing the guards around, and they stifled a giggle. It was the presence of this fellow pageant participant that finally gave them sufficient resolve to be courageous. If nothing else, they wanted a chance to express to this fellow Mx Meduseld competitor how impressed they had been with her contributions in the competition, and find out if it was perhaps she who had taken home the trophy, which they hoped was the case. As so, focusing on this desire rather than their own nerves, they finally approached the tent entrance and, taking one last breath as though about to plunge into cold water, stepped inside.

They were wearing a pretty white floral dress, embellished with pinks and blue and yellows in a summer pattern that hugged close to the body. Eowyn's own hand-maid had helped to pad the dress in all the right places so as to add subtle curves where Shadowfox's frustratingly masculine body had none, and smooth over a few other places in addition. The skirt was long, just over the knee; they had not yet found the courage to risk anything more revealing just yet, but the straps were slim and the neckline lower than they had ever had the nerve to wear before. Attached on one shoulder, as if like a shoulder-pad and re-painted in all the same bright colours of flowers over its normally dark brown, was affixed the leather-fox mark they had hidden behind on so many occasions. Their dark-blonde hair was short; no amount of wishful thinking could encourage that to suddenly grow in the space of a few hours and in truth they thought they might prefer it that way, and their facial hair had been trimmed and shaped to add fine lines along the chin and below the nose, coloured with rainbow glitter that matched the colours of the dress, and coloured eyes that held perhaps a touch more colour than was necessary, but that added extra sparkle on their eye-lids and cheeks for extra measure. And around their neck, hanging on gorgeously fine silver links that captured the highlights in their hair, hung a necklace which dangled a rose-quartz flower just above their modest cleavage; one of Eowyn's own jewels, lent to Shadowfox to mark this most momentous occasion; their coming-out day. Eowyn had long been a trans- and non-gender-ally, as was well known throughout Rohan.

They hesitated on the threshold of the tent entrance, nerves creeping back in as they fidgeted awkwardly with the skirt of their dress, trying not to drop their shoulders into a defensive hunch, until at last their gaze fell on the face of the very person who had encouraged them to turn up here today. Only a few hours ago, these two had shared companionable words in the streets of Meduseld after each of them had quit this self-same tent in a flurry of emotion. It was a relief to Shadowfox that they had both managed to return here in much finer moods. It had a certain element of closure to it. Shadowfox lifted one hand to nervously wave at Lailyn, not yet sure if they should approach her or the group gathered around her, which they saw with relief also included Amethyst.

---

To save from any confusion or awkwardness after the recent cavalry Elections with everyone IC trying to figure out each other's cavalry ranks, I'm going to say that the sign at the door of the tent also included a warning that (other than those few Dryhtguma and Sperewigend NPCs helping HCMA Allacan with running the event) this is a no-rank event. No cavalry insignias are to be worn IC or OOC, and no signatures please. @Shivased will shortly amend the Opening Post to this effect, but in the meantime we just need to remember its meant to be a night off for everyone to have some fun, so let's treat it as such. Thank-you all

[Gwai]

Gwai laughed as Nia empathized in recognizing her, but also not being able to recall her name. "It is a pleasure to re-meet you as well!" she said with a smile. Lailyn began to describe some of the highlights of the Mx Meduseld contest, and Gwai nodded as she pointed out Amethyst. "Amethyst was our second place winner in the Mx Meduseld contest! Her designs were lovely!" she explained to Nia. "I'm sorry you missed it!" She couldn't help but laugh as Lail commented on the bumflaps which had emerged as the newest fashion trend. "Yes, I'm sure we'll all be wearing them by the time we bring out our fall dresses!" she said, taking another sip of wine. "With and without glitter, wouldn't you say Lail?" she added, taking a small sip of her wine.

Allacan complimented Gwai’s gown, and Gwai shared a ghost of a smile when she saw a subtle flicker cross Allacan’s face when she saw the boots underneath the skirt. Surreptitiously smoothing her long skirt in an attempt not to draw attention to her footwear, Gwai replied innocently, “Thank you so much! It’s nice not to wear riding clothes or a uniform sometimes!” She made haste to hurriedly reassure Allacan, “Oh, do not worry, my lips are sealed! Far be it from me to condemn you to office work!” she said with a mock shudder, wholeheartedly sharing Allacan’s dislike of paperwork. Allacan soon excused herself to chat with other guests, and Gwai turned back to the other ladies gathered.

Answering Lailyn's previous question, Gwai hesitated. "Well, we finished the tub race, but in one piece...well, that is a relative term," she hedged. "I fell out and nearly drowned--well, fell out, at least--but our boat held together until the final waterfall! It is probably finished for good now, though," she finished a bit glumly. Shivased was just sitting down at a nearby table, a sperewigend close behind her. "There's my partner now!" she said a bit more loudly so Shivased could hear. "Shivased!" she called. "Are you as sore as I am?" she asked, unable to stop from laughing a bit as she thought of their recent adventures on the river, a bit surprised they were upright at this point. Shivased looked lovely, in one of the fanciest dresses Gwai had seen since she had returned home.

Amethyst soon approached, paying flowery compliments on their outfits, and Gwai actually found herself blushing a bit. She had been complimented on many things in her life, but her outfit choice was not generally one of them, and she appreciated it coming from such a notable source. “Thank you!” she replied. “That is so kind of you to say, although I’m sure it can’t compare to your outfit,” she returned the compliment, admiring Amethyst’s golden gown. "As to what is good to eat, I am not sure, although I can generally point to an excellent choice in the badger burgers. They are a classic Rohirric dish, and sure not to disappoint!"

[Dimcairien Luiniel]

Éomund

As Éomund stood by the food and drinks table, a young woman who he recognised as having been in the Dragon Room when he joined the Cavalry nearly collided with him. After regaining hold of her plate, she introduced herself as Walpurga and mentioned something about wondering why they had been invited to the festivities. "I'm Éomund," he said after a moment, brushing some of his blonde hair back behind his ear. "Are you just as lost as I am about why we're here? I only arrived in Edoras the other day."

Before Walpurga could reply, another individual came over. "Caddrick!" Éomund said in delight. "Are you here visiting your aunt and uncle? It's great to see a familiar face here."

By this point, his stomach was rumbling. "No, I haven't gotten food yet," he said to Walpurga. "And, since I've joined the Cavalry, I think I'm man enough to get one of these drinks." He marched as confidently as he could, which was still a bit hesitant, towards the drinks table. Apparently there had been some sort of kerfuffle about mixed up drinks and the HCMA who had specifically requested his presence was very annoyed about not having something alcoholic. Éomund slowly approached the table, swallowed, and said as evenly as possible, "May I please have a glass of the Heardofur?" Drink at last in hand, Éomund tentatively took a sip. Alcohol was something his mother hadn't been very fond of, though whether because of its taste or its expense, Éomund wasn't sure.

Éomund looked around the tent, wondering when the festivities would begin. It was strange being at such a large gathering. Summer parties had been common where he grew up, but nothing to the extent that this crowd was. It was bound to be an interesting evening. Someone he didn't recognise (Gwai) came up to where he and Walpura were standing and inquired if he had enjoyed the festival. "I can't say that I have ma'am," he answered, "being that I missed most of it." He was curious who this woman was. She seemed nice enough. He was glad that his mother had finally allowed him to travel to Edoras, under the companionship of his father's friend, but it was still strange being a in place with so few familiar faces. Hopefully he would get a chance to talk with Caddrick later. It had been awhile since the two of them had seen each other. But for now, it was time to eat food and enjoy a drink, like the man he now was.

Alas, he was not left in peace quite yet as yet another person (Frost) bumped into him. Why was everyone walking into him? He wasn't that short! The man seemed polite enough, but also very eager to get some food, though at the same time, he didn't seem quite right in the head - a bit dazed perhaps. Éomund shook his head in annoyance and stuffed his mouth with a bite of food.

---

Zarâm

Sitting outside a tent flap, Zarâm could hear the sounds of the gathering crowd. It sounded like there were quite a few people there, and hopefully copious amounts of alcohol. Her stomach rumbled slightly and she wished she had had the forethought to pilfer some food and drink before heading to her hiding spot. Was it worth risking it to get some food? Her blue eyes narrowed as she pondered her predicament. There was no telling how long it would take before the signal to burn things, and when things did get burned, that meant the food would get burned up as well. And that meant no food for her. It wasn't like she hadn't been public in Rohan before, the Scavenger Hunt had certainly been an adventure in public. Listening carefully, she thought she heard Frost's voice among the clamour of the party. Apparently he hadn't been hit as hard as everyone thought if he was walking around at the After Party. Perhaps he was part orc with that hard of a head. She then heard the shrill sound of Thali's voice as it berated Frost over having alcohol.

By this point, whoever had been on the opposite side of the tent flap had moved away. Zarâm slowly lifted it, and once it was obvious the path was clear at the moment, slunk inside, and made headway towards the food and drinks table. Not really caring what she got, but just needing some food, Zarâm helped herself to a glass of Allauisce Beatha and piled a variety of food onto a nearby plate. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted Zôr, who was eyeing Thali, who sported a rather magnificent bracelet. A moment later, said bracelet was gone. Of course, Zarâm couldn't be certain, but it was likely Zôr too was part of Frost's smuggling ring. Only his smugglers could successfully observe another steal. The incident in the Marketplace earlier during the Scavenger Hunt didn't count as she actually hadn't' been trying to steal the bolt of cloth. No one would have been able to spot her if she had made the effort. It was more an attempt to see the true nature of Thali and perhaps Taethowen. And it had proven to her that Thali was a woman who would stop at nothing to help a friend. As for Taethowen, Zarâm didn't know enough about the person to have an opinion yet, but there was something about that woman and Frost that intrigued her.

But now that she had her food, it wasn't time to think about the wiles of the strange man. Instead, it was time to head back to her corner behind the tent flap, eat some food, and prepare to light everything up. Back in her hiding place, Zarâm began to eat, drink, and wait for the signal.

[Balfur]

"No, no, my dear manlings. You have got it all wrong! I am not a supplier of dwarven drinks, the barrel-rolling is just my favoured way of transportation through your lush green hills! But what is this nonsens about carrying weapons?" Balfur stands outside of the (after)party tent. His clothes are dry, but that is about all that can be said about them. Due to a lack of party clothes, the dwarf has elected to dress himself in the remains of the barrel he used to race down the Snowbourne. Underneath he is still wearing his old trousers. They look like they might have once been of a dark blue hue, but are spotted with grease stains and have been patched often with discordantly coloured pieces of fabric. His shirt is not much better. It is white and short-sleeved, but written on the front in a hideous red colour is: "I Participated in the Rohirric Bath Tub Challenge and All I Got Was This Lousy T-Shirt." The shirt obviously does not fit the stout dwarf: his thick, hairy arms and belly make it bulge to the edge of tearing and yet it drapes far over his buttocks, making it look like a ill-fitting summer dress. He does not want to think of how much he had to beg that Raedbeard character to at least give it to him, because he had no dry clothes after the Tub Race. To cover up this rather ridiculous looking outfit, he has taken the bottom out of one half of his barrel-craft and nailed two leather straps to the top of it. These rest on his shoulders and keep the whole thing from falling on the floor. Some of the slats are missing, though, creating holes through which the weird outfit underneath can be spotted. He is barefoot, but at least Balfur has combed and braided his beard and hair. In one of his beard-braids glimmers the gold medal he has won, the only piece of jewelry he carries on him.

He has been rolling a small keg in front of him, which is rather hard if the roller is also dressed in a barrel. Though not quite sure where he has gotten his hands on a small keg of Stonefoot Stout, he is glad that he has found it. Would have been embarrassing to show up at a party empty-handed! When he is told that it is not allowed to bring your own refreshments, Balfur smiles conspiratorially and winks. "Well, then, I suppose you will have to confiscate this here vat, don't you?" From somewhere within the half-barrel he is wearing, he produces two crude, wooden mugs. "And I suppose these can be counted as weapons, so you should probably take them in too!" He winks a fat wink and chuckles. "No harm in having a bit of fun yourselves, good horse-folk. Wouldn't be a party if we didn't all have an opportunity to get sloshed." With that he wanders into the tent.

There are already some folks here, though the barrel-dressed dwarf does not recognise any of them. It is hard to say, though, all these manlings look the same to him. How they can tell each other apart without beards is one of the bigger mysteries in his life. There is one other dwarf (Amethyst), but she looks so resplendent, that Balfur does not think she will deign to speak like a poor fool like him. "Not to worry, though, he mumbles to himself, the food and drink are plenty and I bet it is free too." He trots to the bar, where a bunch of people is trying their drinks and having some smalltalk, and looks at the drinks list. Some of these he definitely has not tasted and as a former clan leader of the tavern lords, he really should try every new drink he comes across. "Hah, hullo there" he rumbles, trying to get the attention of the bartender. Blast these high tables! "I would like to have League Breen eh Flood, please?" Pretty sure he has nailed that pronunciation, he turns around and surveys the room. Some faces he thinks he recognises, either from long or not so long ago, whereas others are completely unfamiliar to him. No worries, he thinks to himself, with a little light beer to keep the mouth slick, he is sure to make some new acquaintances.

[Taethowen]

Taethowen
(human, she/her)

Taeth was so, so late. After sneaking Frost out of the Campian earlier, and a rather heated argument among the mostly-abandoned streets about candied apples and duty, Taeth was emotionally exhausted. And physically, too, honestly. Competing in the Campian Tournament had definitely been a mistake.

She'd at least convinced him to return to her house for a while and rest, but Frost had been antsy and frustrated, and when he'd decided to leave, she'd been at a loss of how to keep him from going. What Taeth hadn't anticipated was the panic that settled into her chest with an excruciating ache as she watched Frost walk out her door without hesitation, or even looking back.

"Taethowen Anhyrne," she'd muttered to herself, frustrated with the tears that threatened to fall as she pressed her palm over her heart in a futile attempt to sooth the ache that wasn't actually physical. "You've barely known the man three days, even if you count the incident in Umbar. Get a hold of yourself."

Despite her words, she'd found herself lingering at the house, though. Waiting, staring, at the door for several minutes before she finally concluded that Frost was not coming back, at least right then. So Taeth had straightened her shoulders, blinked the tears from her eyes, and left the house herself. She'd been meaning to go finish up some business at the Dragon Room for a while anyway, and it seemed there was no better time.

After that was finished, though, and Taeth had returned home yet again, she'd been disappointed to find that Frost had still not returned. It was late-afternoon by then, and while she and Gwai had offered up the M. Meduseld competition tent for the finaly party that evening, she didn't need to go help decorate. A weariness like she hadn't felt in a very long time had settled over her, and without even bothering to remove the leather curaiss she'd worn to the Campian, Taeth had curled up on her bed--somehow seeming so large and cold already, with only herself in it--and managed to fall into a fitful sleep.

It was practically dark out when she awoke.

And that was why Taeth was here, at the Summer Festival After Party, still wearing her same outfit from the Campian, hair just a bit sleep-mussed, well after dark. Once she'd made it past the sperewigend's and dryhtguma's inquiries about weapons, Taeth looked around.

The tent had been fairly transformed in the several hours since the competition she and Gwai held had ended. So much that she barely recognized it, and if her mood had been lighter, she would have been awed. As it was, though, she found that she was looking around the tent for his face.

Taeth spotted him, by the buffet, as she stepped all the way into the tent. Thalionwen was with him, and even from this distance Taeth could recognized the concern with which Thali spoke to Frost.

And Frost... he did not look well. Taeth wasn't sure if it was the concussion, that he was as upset by the argument earlier as she was.

I want to stay as long as you'll have me, the memory of his words echoed through her thoughts.

Her stomach nearly soured as she realized part of why he'd been upset by her reaction about the candied apple earlier. She'd watched him walk out the door earlier and felt abandoned... but she was just as much to blame if he felt like she was pushing him out the door.

Her mind made up, Taeth crossed the tent. She was nearly waylaid more than a few times--there were many who wanted to speak with her: several contestants from M. Meduseld were present, and even a couple of old friends--but she tried to just smile and duck away until she was within sight of Frost, somewhere behind Thalionwen. She waited for a moment when she could catch his gaze, then mouthed talk to me, please, hoping that her desperation showed clearly on her face.

(OOC @Frostbite - feel free to finish you convo with Thali first!)

[Silky Gooseness]

Silendris; Mx Meduseld; A Party-Goer; waiting for Ula outside the tent. They/Them

Silendris is lurking just outside the tents that have been re-decorated for the party. One might even say they’re skulking. Or at least, they’re trying; inconspicuously leaning against a tent pole, one leg drawn up and bent; but tent poles just don’t provide the kind of structural support for slouching ominously like, say, abandoned buildings do. They appear to have a hand in their pocket.

What they’re actually doing is trying to check, by feel, the sequins on their bumflap. Silendris has the nasty feeling that the emblazoned “S” has given up the ghost and fallen off, leaving a sprinkly trail behind Silendris, and also reducing their impassioned slogan of “SMASH THE PATRIARCHY” to the no less fervent, but slightly different in tone, “MASH THE PATRIARCHY”, as though the patriarchy were some sort of full-bodied, buttery potato.

You’d think Silendris has spare sequins and glue and could fix this - or, indeed, that a person so prepared as the crowned winner of Mx Meduseld would have a whole spare outfit. You’d be right. Silendris is all too aware of their distressing tendencies to be befallen by inexplicable mishaps such as waking up in barns possessed of a blinding headache but none of their actual possessions, up to and including clothes; *accidentally* setting things on fire, up to and including clothes, and throwing up violently on everything in the vicinity, up to and including clothes.

So where’s Silendris’ spare outfit? And spare sequins, for that matter?

It’s on Ula.

“Who’s Ula?” I hear you cry (or not, dear reader).

Who’s Ula, indeed? Silendris barely knows. Just that there’s something about her. Something familiar and yet strange. Her situation of having her clothes half-ripped to shreds is certainly familiar to Silendris. Perhaps Silendris was feeling charitable. Perhaps they just like the idea of Ula parading around in their jumpsuit. Perhaps Ula will show up soon and they can wow the crowd within with their matching outfits, thus prompting a high retail demand for them when Silendris signs off on that deal with Tæthowen’s clothing shop.

Silendris adjusts their braided wheat crown and continues to skulk.

[The Good Hunter]

Frost, Human (he, him)

As the crowd grew, Frost's loneliness increased. What in Sauron’s black earth was wrong with him? He was acting like a teenager who had just been refused a dance. He was better than this! The Dearcter Paeper must have had some alcohol in it. He didn't think straight when he was sloshed. That had to be it. Amidst the din of voices, there was one he became increasingly aware of. It was not an unpleasant voice, but it was one that carried a matronly weight to it. In his present state of mind, Frost was not sure he had the stamina to spar with Thali. Remarkably though, she seemed to genuinely be concerned for his well-being. Likely she was the only one here, including himself, at all worried about him. He took another drink and shrugged. “I appreciate your concern Thali, really. But it’s misplaced. It’s just a headache. And there’s nothing to be done but suffer through it.” he paused, had he just meant the headache? “Why must you and your husband both insist on telling me not to try and seduce you? Things have progressed on a different path, I’m no longer interested. You’re a friend, yes, but nothing more. I’m here,” he continued after another drink and slipped unknowingly into his native tongue of Adûnaic, “because there's nowhere else for me to be, other than going back home. I know no one wants me here, but at least give me a single night before you Rohirrim run me out of Edoras again.” That may have been unkind and unnecessary of him to say but the words had already flown from his mouth. He groaned and rubbed his forehead absently.

Just then, he caught sight of Zôr and a smile finally passed over his lips. It was short lived however, because as soon as they locked eyes it seemed like she went out of her way to avoid him, barely brushing past Thali instead. What was going on? Was he about to die or something? Taeth had told him to stay away from her, Thali was actually concerned about him, and Zôr was avoiding him. Maybe he should be concerned about this headache after all. He took another sip and finished the glass. He could have sworn he‘d just Zarâm. He squinted then looked at the glass. Whatever this stuff was, it was strong. Maybe he could steal some and take it back to Mordor, Írimë might like it on the menu, though it would need a much better name.

He bowed mordantly to Thali. “I’ll go sit down. Will that be a good enough compromise for you?” It had better have been. He turned and began looking for a place to sit and shut out the rest of this bloody party. He was at least going to wait for Silendris, he'd like to see them before he vanished back into the night. He began to hum and mumble a short tune under his breath. “I’m alone, and far from home., and nobody knows me. All days are in…” he trailed off as he saw her there. His stomach curled itself into knots. How did Taeth already have such an effect on him? There’d only ever been one person that could do that to him and she had chosen the same thing as Taethowen, duty and responsibility over him. Was he making the same mistake again? She looked beautiful, but it was impossible for him to see her any other way. She looked as unhappy as he did. Was she angry? Should he leave now? Why did she look so sad? He could bring himself to move, either away from her or toward her. He did not like the feeling of utter obfuscation and immobility. Instead He sat down hard on a chair right beside him. He looked up at her and tried to smile, for whatever it was worth.

Walpurga, Human (she/her)

Éomund was such a relief to be around. For the first time since she had arrived in Edoras, she met someone who didn’t automatically know exactly what to do. He was rather handsome too, if maybe a bit young. “It’s wonderful to meet you Éomund. I think we’re both a little lost here. But we can be lost together, if that’s agreeable to you,” she smiled and her cheeks dimpled.

She began taking bites of the food she had selected. In Benton, the tiny village she and her mother lived, a spread like this would have been almost obscene. The food was gorgeous and it tasted even better. She lost herself for awhile, letting the taste of the food and wine (she'd grabbed a glass at the same time Éomund had gotten his alcohol) wash over her as the sights and sounds of the party whirled around her. She had never seen so many people in one place in all her life. And it was more than just her fellow Rohir, there was a dwarf, no, two dwarves. Walpurga had never met a dwarf. She made a mental note to speak to at least one of them before the night was over, she had so many questions to ask. What a fascinating place Edoras was. She beamed with delight. She had an other glass of wine, her mother only ever allowed her one, and felt giddy and excited. This was going to be a night to remember!

OOC: lyrics from “Hours of Wealth" by Opeth

[Mal]

A fresh-faced young Hobbit his light brown hair a tad less curly than his closest kin, Mallory Brandybuck up until now had not been further afield from his home in Whitfurrows than perhaps Haysend in south Buckland.

Further afield he was now though and then some, now he finds himself walking the streets of Edoras. His intent had been to travel to Rohan to enjoy the summer festival festivities though he worried now that he had missed all the events.

His tired feet carried him into the city past wooden buildings that were slightly more above ground than he was used to. he stabled his pony in a stall built for a horse twice its size and proceeded to made his way to the festival tent as the stablehand had directed him.

Arriving at the given location he was confused to see someone (Silendris) milling about in the oddest attire. A loose set of overalls covered their form and they seemed to be extolling the vitues of mashed potato, something Mallory could quite agree with. However they didn't seem to actually be queuing so he walked on into the tent.

Met with quite a bustle of bigger folk he heads in to see the the buffet already laid out deciding first to sample the Sceap Hrycg he availed himself of a helf pint of Heardofur and found hifself somewhere to sit and sample this much needed fair while taking a load off his hairy feet.

[Taethowen]

Taethowen
(human, she/her)

Frost practically fell into the chair next to him when he caught sight of her, but when he tried to smile, all Taeth could see was the pain in his eyes. She bit her lip, blinked back tears again--stupid fredegaring tears that wouldn't stop these days it seemed--and crossed the tent to settle in the seat beside him at an angle where she could see his face.

Taeth watched him for a moment, knowing exactly what she needed to say, but unsure of how to start. He'd been so, so smooth... such a flirt... that she'd been holding herself back in some ways, even as she crumbled under the intensity of his presence, because she simply didn't know him well, but the expression on his face then as he watched her... all of this had to be as frightening and intense for him as it was for her.

She reached out for Frost's hand, and wove her fingers through his, ignoring the busy crowd around them. "I think... we've had a misunderstanding," Taeth spoke. "That something I said earlier made it seem like I didn't want you around at all."

Her throat tightened then as tears pricked behind her eyelids, and she looked away and cleared her throat. She took a deep breath and looked back into his blue eyes. "But I do. And you said you would stay so long as I wanted you to. So don't you dare disappear on me," Taeth choked out. "I already had one man vanish into thin air with no explanation, and I don't think I could bear it again."

[Glitterati_Goblin]

When Ula threw herself into the Campian ring, she’d hoped for a meal to soothe her empty stomach. Her foolish risks to protect the orc and archer - Taethowen, she supposed, as they’d been introduced - instead punished her with an invitation to alien celebrations and her clothes in utter tatters.

True, it wasn’t as if they were well-made, and she’d worn them since the sinking of her caravel, the time at sea, and her entire trek through Mordor, but her pockets were still as empty after her loss as they’d been when she stepped onto the field. Which left her cursing the salt-brittled linen of her pants as she tried to find a way to mend them, but instead furthered their disintegration.

Which led her to now, a poor introduction to a very... memorable figure, Sil, an oddly friendly offer of clothes, and a new... questionable appearance.

If her clothing hadn’t torn to absolute scrap in her disrobing, Ula would’ve preferably suffer the flash of breasts and buttocks out of unsightly rends to this magpie’s hoard. It was a singular piece, both in shape and vision. Oddly reminiscent of babe’s swaddle, it had no layers, merely the entirety - a covering from neck to ankles, with the freedom of breeches, but the attached construction of a dress - in a unified piece. Which, while unique, was not a problem. Appealing, even, in certain ways.

No, the objection came to the tiny, flat, mirrored pieces stitched over every inch. Ula wasn’t entirely sure what they were - pieces of shell, perhaps? Tiny pieces of polished wood? Delicate glass? She certainly hoped it wasn’t the last, for fear of splintered shards gouging her at every movement.

It wasn’t that she dislike the shine and glint of luxury. She was a corsair, after all, and fine fabrics and jewelry were testaments to power and successful raids. Yet, somehow, this garment was less a display a power than a jarring squawk of animal preening. A crab decorating it’s shell, perhaps, or the more ungainly mating dances of the aviaries.

It was, in short, a hideous eye-sore.

And the only thing she had to wear.

Food, she reminded herself, finally entering the raucous tent, stunned to almost a stop at the wall of noise and activity. There’s food.

-
@Sil @Taethowen - I HAVE ARRIVED

[Lail]

Lailyn, human, she/her

Lail snorted in a most unladylike fashion when she imagined Gwai’s picture of bumflaps glittering in the autumn sun. “I think you’re right. After that, we may see some new fall fashions,” she told Gwai, still snickering. “Personally, I would go glitter myself. If you’re going to bumflap, why not go all out?” she joked with a shrug.

“I don’t mind at all all,” she assured Allacan after her inquiry about her dress. “But I am afraid I will disappoint you - I can’t recall who crafted it anymore! I’ve had this dress for years.” She just managed to finish telling Allacan before the host ventured off toward Audley and Rowena, whom Lailyn recognized from M Meduseld. She took note they were in attendance and hoped to introduce herself properly later, having appreciated Audley’s contribution to the competition.

“That sounds like quite an adventure,” she told Gwai. “And quite the achievement if you only went out on the last waterfall. I’m glad you arrived here in one piece at any rate! Now you can relax and enjoy the feasting and drinking and know its well-earned!” Lail raised her glass of mead in a sort of casual toast to Gwai’s efforts in the festival and brought it to her lips to sip its sweetness. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted Thali, but for now, she was relieved she seemed preoccupied speaking to someone Lail did know (Frost). To be honest, she wasn't quite sure what to say to her after the way Lail left the M Meduseld contest.

“Oh, why thank you!” Lail told Amethyst, surprised at the compliment for her dress. It was an old gown and she’d been relieved to find it still fit after all these years. Leaving the Cavalry had changed her physique now that she longer hefted spear or bows, but pots of honey and garden soil. “Speaking of gowns and fall fashion, would you ever consider sharing your designs from round two? I’m happy to pay if you’re open to selling,” she offered, unsure whether the dwarf would be pleased or offended at the prospect of selling her art to others. Lailyn knew artistic types could sometimes weigh the craft and originality above the idea of income and she appreciated the sentiment. “But if you’d prefer not to, I quite understand. Its just that it was very lovely and practical, too.”

More and more folk were arriving at the festival, some familiar faces and some new. Lailyn’s heart swelled when she saw a newly-familiar face enter the tent without a mask. Had her words earlier that day inspired Shadowfox to come tonight? To leave the mask behind, at least for now? She’d encountered them in the streets just when she needed a reminder to be open, strong, true to oneself. Even if it meant getting hurt.

So she waved at Shadowfox with great enthusiasm, hoping they might join her and the others. Part of her wished to rush forward to greet them, but she didn’t want to overwhelm them having just arrived. “There’s Shadowfox!” she told the others with a smile. “Another of our competitors,” she told Nia. “And a very talented storyteller.”

[Elarith]

Amethyst, dwarf fashionista

“Why, thank you,” Amethyst said as Gwai complimented her outfit. “I brought it specially when I heard there was to be an after-party. Nothing says after-party like shimmery gold fabric after all.”

Lailyn asked about her round two entry and its design, and Amethyst waved a hand airily. “Oh my darling, of course! I mean, it looked fabulous on me, but scaled up to your figure and in the correct colour palette - mwah! It will be divine! Write down your address, I will send you the pattern post-haste - on one condition,” she said, suddenly serious and leaning in. “You must - and I cannot stress this enough - tell everyone who asks who designed it for you. And give them my address in the Glittering Caves, should they want a version for themselves.” She slipped Lail a pile of small cards with her name and contact details on that she kept for just such eventualities.

Amethyst studied the menu again, stroking her beard plaits, whilst Gwai recommended the badger burgers. “Ah yes, I have heard they are a local delicacy. However I am not sure if they will suit my delicate constitution...” she tailed off. “Oh, blow it, why not? One has to live a little.” If it was no good she could always slip it to Krystalle, who had no such compunction where food was concerned.

Amethyst slipped down from her chair, corrected her head dress, then strode off to the bar to order some food. As she strode she noticed Shadowfox the storyteller from the Mx Meduseld competition standing in the doorway, and she waved at them. She would have to collar them after she got her food order in so she could better inspect their dress.

Looking back to the bar, she blinked a couple of times - there was another dwarf! What in Mahal's name was he wearing? A tacky t-shirt and a barrel? This was the reason she was trying so hard to raise her race's reputation in terms of clothing style. Still, a dwarf was a dwarf, and she bowed respectfully to Balfur. “Your outfit is very... interesting,” she said, finding the kindest words she could. “Is it part of a bet?”

[Silky Gooseness]

Silendris, Party-goer, They/Them, Entering the Tent

Ula’s here! And who could miss her? Silendris gazes at her, quite bemused. It appears the bottles of horse glue and sequins may have been more loosely capped than Silendris realised, as the jumpsuit Ula is sporting is more sparkly than Silendris even recalls. She’s shimmering. She’s shining. She’s... hungry?

A flash of sparkles and Ula has whisked past Silendris into the tent, apparently ferociously searching for the buffet bar. Silendris can empathise, but they’re slightly injured - not even a hello for Mx Meduseld? Surely this isn’t resentment at the quality of the outerwear Silendris has loaned out? Their charms must be waning. They poke their wheaten crown around to look a little more jaunty and head in.

In usual fashion, Silendris heads directly for the drinks. There’s a hobbit there already, @Mal, sampling a half-pint of something; over his curly head they can see @Frostbite and a few of the other Mordorians. Silendris waves vaguely at them and studies the menu. It’s all in Horse Talk.

“Hey there little buddy,” Silendris says obnoxiously to Mal, actually leaning forward slightly and putting their hands on their knees, unfortunately (or fortunately?) presenting their sequin-buttocked slogan “MASH THE PATRIARCHY” neatly to whoever may be standing behind them. “Anything you’d recommend, drink wise?”

[Arnyn]

Arnyn (human, she/her)

Arnyn had briefly returned to her room after the Tournament of Champions. It had been good to wash up, comb out her long, golden blonde hair and then turn it into a braided updo. It had been a warm day and she still felt the excitement of the Campian in her veins; she just wanted her hip-length hair out of the way entirely.

When she'd been told that the Fair's Afterparty organizers were expecting people to show up in party frocks, the Gondorian hadn't exactly been enthused, but Arnyn wouldn't be Arnyn if she hadn't come prepared. She was sure not all those present would heed the organizers' request, but she for one preferred to meet expectations - and so she was relieved that one of her stallion's saddlebags had been devoted to clothing, including her favored evening attire. While some might call it understated at first glance, at second glance they would see that her dress was in fact rather detailed. Moreover, it fit with who she was: it was black, which had always been her color and which also stood for the country she loved; with a sleek and elegant silhouette rather than a showy fuller skirt; with a high slit and see-through sleeves allowing her the security to move freely (without fear of the dress scooting down or hindering her legs if need be) as well as allowing her skin to breathe in the warmth of summer; and small, subtly shimmering, clear gems sewn into the bodice.

The only jewelry she wore were the small silver rings pierced into her ears (two in each ear) and the silver necklace with a teardrop-shaped, blue gem (which had been gifted to her by a dear friend after his death, and held meaning to her beyond words).

Upon wanting to enter the lovely decorated tent, she was eyed carefully and asked for weapons. Arnyn shrugged. "Haven't brought any," she said to the cavalry members at the entrance. It wasn't like she needed any to defend herself. They gave her another look and waved her through without further questioning or searching.

It didn't seem like anyone she knew well was present; and she wasn't even sure whether Ta'leus, Karis or Pele would make an appearance. There were a few familiar faces from the Campian: Allacan (in trousers, riding boots and a shirt - Arnyn kind of loved that one of the organizers didn't heed their own request), Frost, Taethowen (still in her Campian get-up - it seemed like there were a few stubborn Rohirrim), and Ula (who was... wearing... something altogether... Arnyn wasn't sure how to describe it, but when asked what she thought, she would opt for impressive). Of course, Arnyn hadn't caught any of their names in the Campian. She'd been too preoccupied with the melee itself to pay too much attention to the names being called out; other than that of Elvheimdros.

Either way, judging from their posture and the way they had inclined their heads, Frost and Taethowen seemed to be having a private conversation. Ula's... outfit would be hard to ignore if Arnyn engaged in conversation with the darker-skinned woman. Perhaps it would be wise to wait with any interactions until she'd warmed up a bit socially. Perhaps Ula wouldn't be too interested in speaking to her anyways. After all, Arnyn had struck her in the melee, and she had no idea of Ula's temperament. As for Allacan, it seemed like she was berating one of the bartenders. Probably best not to intervene there, either. Perhaps there would be a better opportunity shortly.

So Arnyn found herself perusing the buffet. And suddenly staring at a rather outrageous... bum-flap? She eyed it only long enough for the shock to wear off and to grin at the slogan on the unusual piece of clothing. Mash the Patriarchy? She overheard the person with the bum-flap asking someone - a hobbit (Mal) - what they might recommend as a drink. Arnyn took a step forward to come up next to Silendris. "Apologies for the intrusion, but I am also interested in your reply." Arnyn wasn't much of an alcohol drinker, but one glass surely wouldn't be too excessive.

[KingODuckingham]

Ducky stood out near the edge of the party, not drinking. He had a huge grin on his face, and was explaining to a couple of eager hangers-on from the badger race (and maybe the tub race) about what had happened to him in Campian.

"Well dudes, it's like this. I saw this lady Arnyn coming. And I took the most excellent hit of my life. And the next thing I knew, I was on the beach, taking in some cosmic rays, getting healed by Mother Nature. And maybe by Thalionwen, hard to say. And I'm fine today! No hospitals, no doctors. I'm a child of Mother Nature, what did you expect? I took a licking and I'm still kicking. Sweet!"

He stopped to demonstrate his spinning high kick, and dropped to the ground once again.

"Oh Varda, my ligaments feel like they are disintegrating!" he cried. "Someone bring a stretcher and cart me out of here, please! Mercy!"

[Mal]

Mallory Brandybuck, Hobbit, He/Him.

Mallory stood by the buffet table thoroughly enjoying the fried lamb and potatoes, washing it down with what proved so be a sweet spiced ale. As he stood taking in his surroundings, the loiterer with the loose sequined bumflap (Silendris) approached and enquired as to his recommendation of what to drink, they'd somewhat patronisingly called him "little buddy", but he wasn't one to take offence so quickly.

Chewing on his most recent mouthful before answering, he pondered how to answer given that so far he'd only sampled the one drink himself. Not wishing to dissuade anyone's opinion that hobbits are lovers of fine food and drink he swallowed his food and took a sip of his ale and opened his mouth to speak.

Before he could get a breath out a woman (Arnyn) came up to join them, apologising for her sudden appearance she affirmed she was also interested on hearing his opinion of the drinks "Thank you both for you interest in my choice of drink, I've only just arrived myself, and," he paused to drain his mug "only just had my first ale; quite tasty, I've not had cinnamon ale before. I am thinking of trying the Hunigmeodu next, would you both join me?"

[The Good Hunter]

Frost, Human (he/him)

Sound dampened around him as she came near. All his senses suddenly attuned to her, muffling anything and everything in that moment. The look on her face threatened to shatter him. Despite the pain he was in, whether real or imagined, knowing (or at least believing) he had caused hers made him angry. She laced her fingers with his, they felt like threads of fire weaving through his being, it was awful and wonderful at the same time. Her words, soft, poignant, and fervent, struck him like a gong. Frost exhaled slowly, pushing out the hundred thoughts clawing at his skull. For a brief, cogent moment, Frost saw her clearly.

“I don’t want to disappear, Taethowen. I want to be here. But you can’t tell me to stay away from parts of you, take me with all my scars or not at all.” The words hurt to have to say out loud, they felt like bones scrapping against the inside of his mouth, but they would not be stopped. His head swam.

I never said to stay away!" Taethowen countered, voice trembling with frustration. "I asked you to be a little more discrete. Please don't ask me to jeopardize everything that I love here. Everything I've just gotten back. I would hardly march into Umbar with an éored and demand you shelter us.”*

Frost bit his lip hard, he felt his breath forced out of him before he could stop it. “I’m not asking you to shelter us, Taeth. Zôr, Zarâm, and I can handle ourselves,” he looked at her hard, staring as intently as he could into her eyes. Without being aware of it, Frost’s language slipped back to that of his mother tongue: Adûniac. “I am not a tamed horse, led by the bit and bridle. I am a wild bear, I go by the grace of nature and my own will.”

He looked down at their hands, still woven together. Her warmth seeped into him. It felt nice, her fingers were soft and supple despite the callouses on her fingers from riding, warring, and tailoring. He longed to kiss those fingers but something within stopped him from doing so.

“I never meant to jeopardize your position here. I came here to enjoy myself, to support Sil and to torment Thali. I… I never guessed I would see you again.”

His eyes scanned the room momentarily, the sound suddenly flooded back in. Somewhere in the brief moment he had just had, the party seemed to have truly kicked off. Sil was here already, talking to a hobbit (Mal) and a tall woman he’d seen in the Campian melee (Arnyn). Was she the victor? He’d have to get her a drink later, likely she beat the two that had rung his bell so fiercely. And was that… what was her name (Ula), the other one from the melee that tried to help Taeth. Why was she wearing Sil’s bumflap jumpsuit? Was the fashion already catching on?

OOC: words written by and used with permission of @Taethowen

[Taethowen]

Taethowen
Human, she/her

Taeth fought back the anguish fluttering through her chest as Frost exhaled, then spoke. He muttered names she didn't recognize, but suspected belonged to the contingent that had gathered around him during the M. Meduseld contest. But then he... switched Bema-damned languages of all things. She forced her mind to keep up, recognized he spoke Adûniac, from her brief time in Umbar. Since she had spoken Westron more than Rohirric in the last decade, she was able to pick out at least some of the words.

Something about a tame horse, wild bears, and... a will? But it was the look in his eyes that gave her the most important clue: he looked like a wounded, cornered wild animal about to make a run for it.

He thinks I mean to tie him down, she realized. To bend who he is into the person I want or wish him to be.

Taeth's hand tightened around his, even as she looked away for a moment. Her eyes fell shut as she fought to control her features, a single tear falling down her cheek. So many feelings were warring inside her. Rage, that apparently someone in the past had tried to change him, fundamentally, against his will. Grief, because she understood that if she couldn't handle this moment properly, then she would lose him. And then, deep underneath those... the warm, burgeoning emotion that made the thought of losing him unbearable. The one she didn't want to contemplate quite yet.

Frost spoke again, and she listened carefully, but it was his final words that made her look back at him. "I... I never guessed I would see you again."

A bittersweet smile crossed her face then, as he pointedly avoided looking at her, eyes scanning the rest of the party instead. She waited to speak until his gaze had returned to her face.

"If we're going to make this work," her voice was gentle, as if speaking to a spooked horse, "we'll both have to compromise at times. But... I don't want to cage you. I don't want you to be anything other than what you are. All I ask is that you allow me to stand at your side as an equal."

[Gwai]

Gwai

Gwai couldn’t help but laugh also as Lailyn discussed the glittery bumflaps that were sure to be all the rage. “All out, indeed,” she agreed, already looking forward to autumn.

Lailyn soon asked Amethyst about selling gowns, and Gwai listened eagerly to the answer, not loathe in the slightest to add to her own meager collection of presentable gowns, as the glamorous dwarf handed Lail a small pile of cards. “Can I have one of those also, Lail?” she asked, excited at the prospect of not only wearing breeches and boots.

Lailyn soon pointed out one of the other competitors Gwai had not noticed enter, Shadowfox. “Oh, I’m glad they made it!” Gwai exclaimed. “Their storytelling was quite impressive,” she commented, taking another sip of wine, trying to pace herself.

The tent was filling up rapidly, and Gwai saw Silendris enter, the Mx Meduseld winner, “Mash the Patriarchy” across the bumflap and all. She made a mental note to congratulate them later, but they were now in conversation with a hobbit Gwai didn’t recognize.

Suddenly Ducky, whom Gwai recognized as one of the other contestants in the tub race, dropped to the ground, crying out. Startled, Gwai glanced quickly at Lail and Amethyst, wondering if they happened to have any background as haelends, before rushing over to Ducky and kneeling next to him, setting her wine glass down with a mental note to try not to knock it over. “Are you all right?” she asked Ducky, concerned. “Can you get up?” she asked, holding out her hand.

[Veowyn]

Caddrick

He had greeted his friend, and mentioned how his family had Pa and Brother were working in their shop in the Riddermarket this time of year, and his Ma had come and participated in one of the festival's contests. "Ma placed fourth or something, in the Mx. Meduseld contest. It was quite the show." He did not expect his parents to join the party, but he was glad his aunt and uncle were indeed here.

Then, while he was filling his own plate, his friend slipped away. He gave a face as he scanned the area for Éomund. He found him and made his way. He still wanted to hear about the first day of Cavalry and anything else that happened since his arrival in Edoras. He sampled a bit of food as he walked over. "These ain't my Ma's meat pockets, but delicious, no?" He asked Éomund as he stepped up next to him.

Then he suddenly realized his friend was conversing with a young lady, Walpurga. "What's this? Only one day in the Cavalry, and you are already picking up girls!" He teasingly nudged his friend, and winked a blue green eye at the girl. "Maybe I should have joined with you after all! Can't let you have the fun!" he let out a light-hearted chuckle.

He set his plate and glass down, and extended hand out to her, prepared to kiss her knuckles. His mother was formerly a Gondorian noble, so he had been trained in all those niceties. "Caddrick Halwende, at your service, Miss.". Although, usually manners dictated that he should leave two to their conversation, but he kinda didn't want to leave. He was never uncomfortable around crowds (he practically grew up in an inn), he was not sure who to bother next.

[Shivased]

Having finished her food and drink while she watched the goings-on around her, Shivased took note that the tent was getting rather crowded and she saw many of the people she knew had taken part in the festivities. That meant it was time to hand out some gifts and awards. Standing up she signaled to the wigend waiting by the table full of gifts and adjusted her skirts, once again thinking she was far too over-dressed for this, then made her way to the middle of the tent where everyone could see her. Or, rather, would be able to hear her. She was probably a little too short to be seen over the crowd, but that was fine. She was used to that. Clearing her throat she called out in her best cavalry command voice, that she knew would carry through the tent:

COULD I HAVE EVERYONE'S ATTENTION PLEASE

It is time to hand out prizes for the winners of festival activities.

Once the room had quieted down she unfolded the piece of paper she had. I want to start with the Badger Chase. The winners were announced, but I have not handed out anything to the winners.
a
The winner of the Badger Chase is Kingoduckingham!

She waited politely for the applause to end and for Ducky to come forward. Congratulations, she told him, presenting him with a gold badger-shaped medal and a basket full of assorted items. Badger jerky, crackers, assorted cheeses, a jar of bbq sauce, and a pair of warm gloves lined with badger fur, all donated by the proprietors of shops in the Riddermarket. The horse you rode is also outside, waiting for you. she told him. You two did such an amazing job together, you should have him.

In second place was Laewyn and third place was Eogyth. Each of them also received a medal, silver for second and bronze for third.

Now, for the remainder of the winners.

The Bathtub Race - Balfur and Nerwen

Campian champion - Arnyn

Scavenger Hunt winner - Ellisiva (Nerwen)

M. Meduseld Winner - Sil

Again she waited for the applause to die down for each winner, then held up her hand again. We aren't done yet. There are a few special awards the festival runners wanted to give out. These are all going to people who have made the festival exciting, funny, cute, or otherwise done an exceptional job participating and making the festival the success it was!

To @KingODuckingham the title of Festival Fool!
For hilarious contributions to the Badger Chase, Bathtub Race, Campian, and generally being hilariously entertaining the whole festival! As she spoke she handed him a jester's hat, brightly coloured and with bells on it.

To @Taethowen and @Frostbite
For the romantic story that unfolded in the Festival Fairgrounds, M. Meduseld, Campian and a number of other kingdom threads. They are given a golden arrow and the magic bow from Campian.
Special mention to Orco and Thali and Rowena and Audley

To Aelorco (@Dwarrow Elf ) the award for Most melodramatic diva!;
For his dramatic hissy fit and rapid 180 change of heart in M Meduseld
(special mention for Zaram in Campian)

To @Eldrith - The official title of “Kill-Stealing Skirt-Wench”
For her massive reveal in the most amazing fashion after 15-years of establishing that moment! She received a pair of leather trousers, complete with bum-flap.

Also a special mention for @Allafyrefleorhtlig for her minion reveal in M. Meduseld! Good job!

The awards handed out, Shivased grinned. Excellent job, everyone! From those who ran the activities to those who participated, this has been an amazing festival! Now, I believe there may be some entertainment and singing planned, so enjoy your evening of celebrations!

Moving away from the center of the tent she headed to the buffet tables again. It was time for more drink.

[Dimcairien Luiniel]

Éomund

When he asked what Caddrick was doing in Edoras he explained that his whole family was here for the festival and summer Riddermarket. "That makes sense," replied Éomund, "and I'm glad your mother won something."

Éomund had just been about to take another bite of food and carry on his conversation with Walpurga about what on earth they were doing at this event when Caddrick reappeared with a plate of good and a dig about his "lady friend." Éomund glanced at Walpura and raised his eyebrows as he felt his face going bright red from embarrassment. How he wished the ground could just open up and swallow him right now.

"She's not a lady friend," he hissed at Caddrick through clenched teeth as his friend proceeded to introduce himself to Walpurga. Sometimes he wished his childhood friend wasn't so outgoing and this was one of those times. Even though he too had spent quite a bit of time in the inn as a child, he never had quite the same amount of confidence Caddrick had, always preferring to be a bit more in the background.

He overheard someone announce the winners of the various competitions and then mention entertainment. He grinned, wondering what sort of things would be occurring in that category.

Unfortunately, before they could get very far into their conversation, Éomond noticed the HCMA beckoning to him and Walpurga. Whatever they had been summoned for was about to go down.

[Silky Gooseness]

Silendris, They/Them, Drinking

“Yes,” Silendris declared gladly to @Mal, “we would definitely like to try the Huniwhatsit.”

Silendris, of course, would have agreed to anything that even smelt faintly alcoholic. They stood up abruptly, almost colliding with @Arnyn. “Oh; we are sorry,” mumbled Silendris vaguely. “That is a nice dress. Subtle.”

They eyed Arnyn slightly jealously. It wasn’t exactly showy. A sleek sort of look. Professional, even. Smart. Certainly not sequinny. They gazed with satisfaction at Ula, still at the food table, who was gleaming so... violently... that some people in her vicinity were beginning to complain that their eyes were watering. At least they hadn’t fallen over, unlike the Wizard they could hear yelling in the background about his ligaments. Wizards these days just didn’t have the stamina. It was sad.

Three pints were poured of the recommended Hunimoddy Whatever-it-was and Silendris handed the other two pints to their companions. The pint glass looked a little large next to a Hobbit, but secretly Silendris wanted to see if he could handle it. If not, he would make an adorable puppet when he was stuffed.

The prize winners were being called out. Whether or not Ducky was in any fit state to accept his prize was another manner. Whilst Silendris preened wildly when their name was called out, they were a little miffed that

1) there was not a surprise extra prize for them, although they supposed a pony that pooped candy was already pretty good. They bet Ducky’s pony didn’t poop candy
2) No mention had been given to Silendris’ true believers and supporters through this, the Figurines: why was nobody thinking of the MOP HEADS
3) Had someone actually gifted a bumflap outfit as a gift without paying royalties to Silendris? It wasn’t as though they’d had time to open a Patent Office in Rohan and then file a patent but Silendris felt injured nonetheless.

They drank their drink. It was sweet, maybe too sweet, but internally warming.

[Allacan ob Burzum]

Shadowfox, human, they/them

Their hesitation at the door led to them having to hastily step aside as multiple latecomers entered behind them. One of them (Sil) was recognisable to Shadowfox as one of the participants of the M. Meduseld competition, but the pink sparkles across her buttflap were new. Shadowfox tilted their head to the side in contemplation at why exact my they would be recommending people ‘Mash the patriarchy’.

Their attention was caught back to the other partygoers as they saw not only Lailyn wave them over to join the gathered group, but Amethyst also waved at them, and Gwai seemed pleased to see them. Their heart soared at such a public display of welcome and inclusion and they reflected that maybe this was going to be an exceedingly fun party after all. They had just crossed the tent to join the group and opened their mouth to say hello when Shivased stood up to make an announcement of the event winners and the special awards and interrupted them.

They clapped enthusiastically with everyone else, then turned to Amethyst and said “I’m so sorry to hear that you were not the M. Meduseld victor; I felt that for sure you would take home the prize, your contributions were so exquisite. And not even a special mention! Well... you win my award for most glamorous contestant, for what little it is worth.” they finished with a blush. Amethyst’s response would have to wait, however, as their attention was once again called to the stage, this time by the familiar figure of Allacan and two other young people...

---

OOC ( The below is posted with permission from @Frostbite and @Dimcairien Luiniel to godmode their characters, and special thanks to @Mal and @Gwai for willingly offering their characters up as sacrifice to the slap-stick comedy.

This post was initially inspired by one of our Tub-Race winners @Balfur, who commented in Hoppit Darts recalling the events of this festival and stated “A silly place, Rohan is. People there wear fake beards!”. Also a tip of the hat to our M. Meduseld winner @Sil, love to you both )

---

Allacan, human, she/her

Allacan’s attention was drawn away from her friend Rowena and her husband when Shivased called for the attention of the crowd. That was her cue! Allacan politely excused herself from the couple and headed for the rear tent-flap door, waving enthusiastically to Walpurga and Eomund as she went, relieved to see that both her fellow cavalry recruits had answered her summons. They responded swiftly and the three of them quickly exited out the back of tent and after some eager explanations, all three readied themselves for their grand re-entrance, making good use of people being distracted by the official announcement.

When they all re-appeared after Shivased’s declarations that the floor was open to entertainment, both Walpurga and Eomund had pink sequin beards glued onto their faces and were grinning enthusiastically. The three of them together climbed onto the nearest table.

Allacan announced loudly “In keeping with the Rohir tradition to mark special events with entertainment and song, we three have prepared something special to welcome you all to our After-Party. We hope you enjoy it.”

The three then launched into an enthusiastic performance.

“Riddermark!” declares Walpurga happily.
“Riddermark!” repeats Eomund with equal enthusiasm.
“Riddermark!” echoes Allacan, almost a cheer.

(“It’s only a kingdom!” the disgruntled (NPC) bar-tender muttered before being hastily hushed by Allacan, who then continued the announcement uninterrupted.)

“Guests, I bid you welcome to the After-Party, let us drink to the Riddermark!”

Suddenly music strikes up from somewhere, although it is not exactly clear from where. The three cavalry soldiers (and indeed any other rider who chooses to claim knowledge of this song and routine and join in elsewhere in the tent) sing out loudly.

♫“We're Riders, strong and stable
We dance whene’er we're able
We do routines and chorus scenes
With footwork impeccable
We dine well here in Riddermark
We chew badger steaks and willow bark”♫

Allacan and her two cavalry compatriots high-kick for a bit, vaguely in time with the music (where *was* that coming from?). Eomund unfortunately suffers a relapse in co-ordination and accidentally kicks Gwai in the head as she passes by, knocking her over but thankfully not causing serious injury. The performance drives on before Gwai or anyone else can react more than checking the Rohir woman was ok, the performers momentarily unaware of the accident.

♫“We're horse-lords, like in fable
Our shows...” (kick) “are for...” (kick) “...midable
But many times we're given rhymes
That are quite unsingable
We're opera mad in Riddermark
We sing use words like ‘well met’, 'hail' and 'haaaaaaaaark!’”♫

The trio kick a little more, the table threatening to give way underneath them, as the rest of the NPC cavalry guard- and wait-staff (and even, unwittingly, Zarâm in her secret hiding spot) clap along to the infectious tune.

After their high-kicks, the trio break into a random assortment of jumps, claps and stomps that *could* be *generously* interpreted as tap-dancing, sending goblets and their contents whirring across the room to soak the audience, whose amusement was questionable at this point. Somewhere behind the buffet, the server is banging at the punch-bowls with a pair of serving spoons and finishes with a flourished finale that mistakenly thonks Mal the hobbit patron on the head, confusing his light brown hair for an extension of the wooden buffet table.

♫“War we're tough and able”
(The squark of a random cat being trodden upon somewhere)
“Quite indefatigable”
(The wait staff flourish their aprons)
“In our off weeks we sequin cheeks
And elect a team that’s stable
It's a busy life in Riddermark”♫

...Allacan steps forward and sings alone as the grand finale approaches...

♫“I have a horse-shaped biiiirth-maaaark!”

The trio then break into an increasingly manic ‘performance’ of high-kicks, claps, jumps and stomps that crescendos into Allacan turning in place as her compatriots hold their hands to either side of her in the manner of a dramatic reveal and presentation. Allacan ends the song bent over with her arse towards the audience. Just as the music ends, the hastily installed butt flap on her trousers drops open to reveal the recently-announced horse-shaped birthmark across one buttock, framed with glued-on pink sequins in the shape of a heart.

As they hold their final dramatic pause in the stunned silence at the display of Allacan’s naked butt-cheeks, one of the sequins slowly peels away and drops to the table with a tiny ‘clink’. This tiny sparkly mote, however, proves to be the last straw the table can withstand. It collapses in a heap of sequins, cloth and limbs, finally succumbing under the strain, and all three performers go down with a resounding crash, bang, whallop.

THE STAGE IS OPEN TO ANYONE WHO WISHES TO SHARE A PERFORMANCE, BE IT SONG, DANCE, POEM, RAP OR OTHERWISE.

OPEN MIC NIGHT EVERYONE!

[The Good Hunter]

Frost, Human (he/him)

Her words were gentle, her tone reassuring. Frost felt himself relaxing. The knot in his stomach unwound and dissolved, the lightness in his head seemed to clear for a moment, the haze of the Dearcter Paeper’s alcohol fizzled away too. All he saw was her smile, and that smile, there in that tent that was already starting to feel claustrophobic with people, was all he needed.

“You are my equal Taethowen Anhyrne. And my opposite.”

Without waiting for her to respond, Frost drew her in. Hooking his free arm around her waist he pulled her in as close as he could, still holding her hand. He needed to feel the heat of her body there with him in that moment. She was honeyed fire. He closed his eyes and pressed his lips to hers and kissed them. Frost’s mind went blank save for a single, solitary need: Taethowen. He kissed her hard, fervently, passionately. The troubles they had just been discussing seemed a thousand leagues away now. Distantly, he remembered they were in a room full of people but for now, that didn’t matter, all that mattered was Taeth. She felt better the northern summer rains, she was brighter than the midsommar skies.

Finally, with inexorable slowness, he broke the kiss. The world slowly shifted back into focus and the sound he’d so effortlessly blocked out roared back into his ears. He broke the kiss just as it was announced he and Taeth had won some sort of award. He didn’t hear what the award was but to be honest he didn’t care. He raised his hand, fingers interlocked with Taeth’s in an acknowledgement of the award and smiled as best he could. Between the kiss and the alcohol, he was having trouble focusing. “So we’re famous now are we?” He chuckled to Taeth, kissing her fingers.

Before either of them could move to a more private location to continue their night, a great hubbub began near the stage. Three Rohirrim (at least he assumed they were, it was difficult to say with all the pink sequins and fake beards) began to sing and dance. Frost rubbed his eyes and squinted. Was… he seeing things? He looked to Taeth, but she seemed as intent upon the scene as well. He watched the performance with rapt curiosity. What was this delightful nonsense? Everyone else was enthralled by the display of music and… dancing. Frost actively laughed when one of the performers (was that the lad he’d brushed out of the way earlier?) kicked Gwai in the head! That was not going to be look good on the lad come the morning, or Gwai come to think of it, a nasty black eyes was waiting for her around the corner. Before anyone could properly react though, even Frost, the dance number turned into some sort of tap dancing. Well, not really. Frost has seen a performance that was tapdancing and this was not quite it. Drinks were split, alcohol was lost, and that Hobbit Frost had noticed earlier was apparently mistaken for a drum. Was all of this real? He looked back at Taeth but she seemed as bemused as he did. Finally when the performance was over and peace (whatever that might be called in a party with minions and drunk Rohir about) settled back over the party, Frost stood up, pulling Taeth up with him.

“What say we mingle a bit? I don’t think I’ve seen Zarâm yet, and I need to congratulate Sil,” he said as he took another drink. “Surely there are some Cavalry matters for you to attend to as well?” he added with a half mocking, half genuine smile. “You want to check on your friend over there.”

[Taethowen]

Taethowen
human, she/her

"You are my equal, Taethowen Anhyrne. And my opposite," Frost said, and his arm snaked around her waist, pulling her against him. Relief washed through her, breath escaping in a gasping sob, but the sound of it was covered by his mouth on hers. He consumed her, every brush of his lips a whisper into her soul, and when he coaxed her mouth open under his, fire burned through her, turning every thought to ash.

Her thoughts slowly returned when he broke the kiss, and as she heard their names called out by Shivased, the Festival organizer, Taeth blushed and turned her head, tucking her face against Frost's shoulder in embarrassment as he raised their joined hands to acknowledge the recognition. She would grab the magic bow--magic?! she wondered. What in Arda...--and golden arrow in a bit.

"So we're famous now are we?" he chuckled, and as his lips brushed against her fingers as he lowered their hands. With a sigh, she stopped hiding her face.

"I guess we weren't very discreet about us," Taeth laughed softly. She felt she'd been professional during the M. Meduseld competition... but after that first night with Frost, she'd definitely thrown caution to the wind. Between their very public lunch together at the Riddermarket, and then her display at the Campian... it was no wonder they were the romantic gossip of Edoras all of a sudden.

Her gaze latched onto his again for a moment, and the look of want and possession in his eyes made something twist and curl in her stomach, make her heart pound and heat flickering along every nerve. She almost stood and pulled him away, out of the tent, back to her house. Bema's horn, even a dark alley would do at that moment.

But then Shivased finished making her announcements, and three... sequin-bearded Rohir stepped out from somewhere and climbed onto a table and... started to sing. Taeth's eyebrows fairly leapt off her face at the musical number that ensued, and though Frost laughs when Gwai is kicked in the face, Taeth cringes. Gwai seems to find her senses, though, if her co-judge had not been knocked unconcious, the blow could not have been too frightfully bad.

But really, the whole show was like a wagon wreck that you knew was going to happen but still couldn't pull your gaze away from.

Taeth didn't realize how much she'd needed the respite until Frost stood and pulled her to her feet, asking about mingling and smirking as he mentioned Cavalry business and checking on her friend. With the most patient of smiles, Taeth pulled her hand from his, reached up to cup his face, tugging him down to press a quick kiss to his lips.

"Just... please be careful," she whispered as she pulled away. "Whatever mischief you get up to tonight, you've already been wounded today. You should really stop drinking, and don't deny you've been doing it. I can taste it on your kisses."

With a sigh, she released him and stepped back. There were still things she wanted to discuss, but this was a party, and they could wait, now that they were at least on the same page again. "Go do your thing for a while," Taeth said. "I'll go check on Gwai."

Taeth turned away then--knowing that if she didn't, she wouldn't--and crossed over to where Gwai was, examining her friend's face. "Oh, that's going to bruise," Taeth grimaced. "Do you need something cool to put on it?"

[Gwai]

Gwai was distracted from Ducky's predicament when Shivased took the stage and announced the winners. She clapped enthusiastically, especially as the Mx Meduseld winner and the special prizes were announced.

Immediately following the prizes, the entertainment began. Three riders soon took the stage, beginning a choreographed routine, pink sequined beards glued to their faces. Gwai's eyes widened as she recognized Allacan as one of them. She thought she recognized the other two (Walpurga and Éomund) as new cavalry recruits, although it was difficult to be certain under the beards.

She hadn't realized she was so close to the stage (really, the act should have come with a warning beforehand!), but at a high point in the music, the performers began to high-kick, with (Éomund's) kick immediately accidentally striking Gwai on the left side of her face. "Ooomph!" she exclaimed articulately, as she got knocked backward, landing square on her non-sequined bum.

The performance continued, and Gwai sat where she was on the floor for a moment, a bit dazed. Was that Allacan's buttcheek, or did she actually have a head injury? No, it must be real, as the table took that moment to collapse, and she didn't think she would be hallucinating that. She could feel her left eye immediately beginning to swell, and a few drops of blood trickled out of her left nostril, landing on her blue party dress. Holding her hand to her nose, Gwai looked up as Taeth approached, who one could tell was a true friend as she did not mince words or try to gloss over Gwai's face, instead immediately bringing up that her eye was going to be bruised. "I had a feeling," Gwai sighed, offering a bit of a smile, glad she hadn't struck her head on the floor when she fell. "Something cool would be perfect. And do you have a handkerchief by any chance?" she asked, having left her bag elsewhere that night.

[Amadhrill]

Amadhrill, human, she/her

«Just the sword» She promised in a soft and friendly voice as she was stopped by the entrance by one of the new wigends of the Mark and asked to hand over her weapon. Even Edoras had been unsafe of late, and she did not want to return home unarmed during the night or early morning, whenever she left the party. She handed over the short sword and got a token in return, so that she could get it back later. Her best clothes did not make much of an impression here, she could easily see that. For a moment she stood in the entrance and admired the look and the riches around her, all around her the people seemed to glitter, sparkle, and shine in their very best clothes. There were fine dresses of Gondorian styles, at least she recognized them as not typical Rohirim in their style. And then it was a barrel-wearing dwarf, maybe her eyes decieved her, in that.

For a moment she felt utterly lost in her simple green dress in wool, the same she had married in more then ten years ago, and she was happy that the singing and dancing of Allacan, Walpurga, and Éomund took all the attention of the room. The elbows on her dress were decorated with flowers (left-over yarn in various plant colors that she had used to mend the holes from years of wear), the neckline had cleverly been altered many times (though only a trained eye would be able to see that), the cuffs and neckline were also decorated with embroidered flowers. Here and there a flower native of the Mark had been embroidered onto the full skirt, hiding stains or holes. It was a tradition that she had been thought by her mother, and it was a tradition many of the Rohirrims who could not afford a new dress just because the old was out of style or showed the signs of wear and tear. She recognized a few of those dressed in Gondorian fashion to be Rohirrims, and felt her heart sink a little, the sight of Rowena gave her the reminder she needed. She squared her shoulders, lifted her head and smiled, reminding herself to 'fake it 'till you made it'. Her dress might not hold up to the Gondorians, but she still loved the dress she wore for all the merriment it had been through.

She walked with resolute steps towards the bar, her green eyes searching for the Gondorians she wanted to speak to. After looking a little she found the campian victor, Arnyn together with a hobbit Mal and the partygoer Silendris, by the buffet. Approaching the campian winner, Ama took a deep breath, making up her mind to brave her questions quite sure that Eldrith would not be around to answer them herself. «I appologize for interupting, ma'am, lady Arnyn. Congratulations on your victory in the campian, it was well deserved.» She smiled sincerly.

Then her face turned more serious, a wrinkle between the eyes betraying that she had something else to say, to ask. «I... I am sorry to ask, on your night of celebration, but I have a question, one I hope you and your Gondorian friends might be able to answer for me. May I have a word in private with you?» Then she smiled to those that Arnyn stood by. «Just for a moment, I will be quick and not be in your way for long.»

She drew her breath, and spoke more silently towards Arnyn. «It is regarding one of your opponents during the campian, the woman in the skirts, she is a friend of mine.»

[KingODuckingham]

Ducky jumped up very suddenly from his moaning, called by the sweet song of the prize.

"I thank you for your attention, but I must receive my great honor!" he shouted at Gwai and dashed off, limping, to the stage. It turned out he had been awarded a fantastic hat! It jingled and jangled! Ducky immediately whipped off his wizard hat and placed the new one proudly upon his head.

"Any hat a wizard wears is a wizard hat!" he proclaimed to nobody in particular. Then his pain receptors got the message back through to the brain in that same head, and he fell off the stage.

"It appears I could afford to take a trip to the infirmary. There is an infirmary here in Rohan, right?" he asked querulously. He began dragging himself slowly away from the stage, not wanting the attention now that he was humiliatingly incapacitated. In between pulls he clapped for the other winners and honored folk. It was slow going.

[Lail]

Lailyn, human, she/her

“Oh thank you!” Lail exclaimed, overjoyed her request was well-received by Amethyst. “I will absolutely tell everyone all about you!” She took the pile of cards, then requested a few extra, hoping to get them distributed to all her friends and acquaintances.

Before pocketing them (yes, if you ask Lail, any dress worth wearing has pockets), she passed one to Gwai. “There you are, Gwai. You and I are sure to be kept in fashionable attire with these!” With her old dress on tonight, Lail rather felt she was due some new clothing soon.

Seeing Ducky fall over, Lailyn went to lend a hand only to find that he’d recovered marvelously fast and was soon bounding up to the stage to receive a host of badger-themed goodies. “Hm, must be some kind of wizard trick,” she mumbled to herself, surprised at the fast turnaround in his health.

Before she had a chance to greet Shadowfox, her attention was claimed when Shivased’s voice rang out to announce the festival’s champions. She cheered heartily for each one, clapping her hands as well as she could with drink in hand until she at last resorted to slapping her thigh instead. With each one, she took another sip of mead in their honor. By the time the final winner was announced, Lailyn’s glass was empty.

A number of somewhat surprising awards were given out (Taethowen and Frost? She seemed to have missed something and she rather wanted to hear more about that…Eldrith’s being named Skirt Wench. She clearly missed an interesting Campian...). When Aelorco was named a recipient, Lail even managed a generous chuckle. “Most melodramatic indeed.”

Then the real celebration started and Lail clapped along with the singing and dancing and laughed out loud when a flash of buttcheeks greeted the crowd. It seemed more fitting for later in the night, but only in Rohan would such antics be acceptable so early in the evening.

As she danced along in the crowd, she was drawn away from the others and found herself at the food table. Perhaps food was a good idea to eat before she drank more. She chose a Brocburger, which was really just fancy talk for badger burger and dug in. Oh it had been too long since she tasted the delectable meat of a badger!

Nymlac, human, he/him

After passing out at home after the Campian, Nymlac awoke and wiped the drool off his face in time to remember he had somewhere very important to be. Dressed in a flattering green and grey outfit with his finest walking stick in hand and his golden locks neatly combed back from his face, he looked rather more respectable than he had earlier in the day. After all, he was a rather fine-looking fellow (not a day over twenty-nine!) if he did say so himself.

But when he arrived at the tent, he felt a flame of irritation when the Sperewigend requested his weapon. Entirely misunderstanding and still sensitive about his leg (not that he would admit it), Nymlac snarled “a walking stick is not a weapon, you fool! What are they teaching in the Cavalry these days?"

As he entered the tent, he smoothed the front of his crisp green shirt and found himself looking at a row of butt-cheeks. He blinked. Was he running that late?

Shaking his head, but admiring the brave show of skin all the same, he made his way to the bar in haste to fetch himself a much-needed drink. Judging by the crowd, he had some catching up to do, having unfortunately sobered up during his nap. As he waited to be tended at the bar, he scanned the crowd for one person in particular. Was the renowned Skirt Wench here? He wondered feeling a brief flutter of anticipation in his stomach.

[Zôrzimril]

Zôrzimril

Just outside the ring of torchlight around the large party tent, Zôr stood in the shadows. She stuck a hand into the depths of her bag and ran a thumb over the intricate pattern of a braided gold buckle, enjoying the brush of the cool metal on her fingertip. She smiled and plucked a bit of hay from her dark hair.

She had spied the young man as she hurried away from Frost and his friend, the woman's bracelet snugly in her bag. The Rohir wore his best clothing for the party and was hovering awkwardly on the edge of the crowd with an empty glass in hand. But it was the gold glinting at his waist that caught her eye. Zôr cocked an eyebrow and fetched two more drinks before sauntering over to him and resting a hand familiarly on his shoulder. "Need another?" she asked sweetly as he gazed at her, startled. She held out one glass of whiskey and took a sip from the other, surveying him from over the rim of her cup.

He had accepted gratefully, looking relieved to have some company. They had spoken of the contests and applauded as the winners of various contests accepted their awards. Then Zôr turned it on. She touched his arm as they talked and gradually leaned closer, letting her hair fall in her face as she laughed at something humorless he'd said in a clumsy effort to charm her.

She was momentarily thrown off her game when shouts of "Riddermark!" rose from a few rowdy individuals. People began dancing violently, and voices lifted in raucous song. Her companion began to clap along but stopped when Zôr shot him a look - this was the kind of joyous behavior for which she had little tolerance. It had seemed like the right moment to leave the tent.

Zôr led him, a fresh round of drinks in hand, out in the sticky night. Summer insects hummed noisily, and the pair disappeared into a nearby field. The belt buckle was the prize, and the game was familiar. And she always won.

She'd let him draw her close amid rustling tall grass, then knelt to remove the belt. After, as he rambled about horse care while staring up at the stars, she'd considered reaching into her bag for the tin that contained several steel needles: the drug coating them would ensure he didn't trouble her for the rest of her stay in Rohan. But she had ultimately stayed her hand, deciding against leaving a trail of both bodies and burned things in her wake. (Not to mention that the trail of sequins from Silendris' outfit would probably be easy enough for any suspicious horse lords to follow.)

Zôr stood up abruptly. "We should get back before you're missed." She slung her bag over her shoulder, grabbing his discarded belt and stowing it away as she did so. He had not missed the belt; she had smiled and touched his face to keep him focused on her instead of taking inventory of his accoutrements.

Near the tent, Zôr had paused outside of the guards' hearing. "You go in first," she whispered, giving him another sweet smile. "You don't want any gossip spreading about this." She was assuming, of course. She did not know his name or who he was in the scheme of Rohirric society, but the finery of his clothes suggested someone whose family wouldn't approve of trysts in fields. He had nodded naïvely and returned to the party on his own, pants sagging a bit in the absence of his belt.

And now Zôr was standing here alone, head light with drink and (more importantly) more gold in her possession.

Music was still floating out of the tent. She rolled her eyes. Zôr did not have any interest in attending this impromptu concert, so she snuck through the shadows back to the tent flap where she'd hidden earlier. She entered her hiding place and sat down to remove the worthless leather belt from the buckle and await the signal for fire.

[Elarith]

Amethyst, dwarven runner-up

A sudden cry made Amethyst look around. A wizard, by the looks of things, on the floor and making a racket like he'd broken a leg or something. And she thought she could be dramatic. Gwai had already rushed over to him, followed by Lail, and flicked a look in her direction. Amethyst shrugged and spread her hands helplessly - first aid was not her forte. Unless he wanted something stitching, in which case she was game to try, even if the wizard might not be.

In any case, Ducky was swiftly on his feet and away to collect a fantastic hat prize, so no lasting damage seemed to have been done, until he fell off the stage anyway. More awards and prizes were announced, and with her practiced Serene and Beatific Not-A-Winner-But-I'm-Still-Happy-Because-It's-The-Taking-Part-That-Counts face stuck on, the dwarf applauded appropriately. She sighed softly when the awards were over. "Beaten by a bum flap," she murmured. She was not sure she would ever get over it.

A voice next to Amethyst startled her from her mini-reverie involving trampling on every bum flap ever created, and she turned toward it. It was young Shadowfox from M. Meduseld. The dwarf visibly swelled as they told her they thought her the most glamorous contestant of all, but she had to wait to reply as three Rohirrim with sequinned beards took to the tables and did an energetic and somewhat violent song and dance number.

"Edoras. 'Tis a silly place," she muttered, shaking her head slightly. She turned back to Shadowfox, and reached up to place a be-ringed hand on their arm. "Oh, darling, that is so kind of you to say. I enjoyed your performances very much too - so very different. And I mean different in a good way. There is too much same-sameness these days and that is exceedingly dull. It is good to liven things up," she said, then stepped back slightly to take in Shadowfox's outfit with a critical eye. "Your dress is very lovely, good quality work there, and the pop of colour on the mask fits. That necklace is excellent craftsmanship too, take it from a dwarf."

[Dimcairien Luiniel]

Éomund

No sooner was the performance over, then Éomund found himself trying to get free of the mess of table, dishes, clothes, and bodies to try and escape from the tent. The only reason he had agreed to this debacle in the first place was because the HCMA had requested it. And now he had no idea what to think of the person. Surely someone with that rank was supposed to be dignified. And to top if off, he had managed to kick someone (Gwai) in the face. In ordinary circumstances, Éomund would have apologised profusely, but the embarrassment, coupled with the oncoming hangover and bruises meant he simply wanted to get away from it all. With whatever shreds of dignity that he had left, Éomund snuck out of the tent and headed for the trainee lodgings. As he left, he noticed a strange looking someone (Zarâm) sitting just behind a tent flap, but considering everything that had already happened that night, he chalked it up to either too much to drink or just the normal oddness of summertime in Edoras. Hopefully training would begin soon and give him something else than his embarrassment to think about.