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Since I last posted I have attended a more interesting event.
Days later, in fact, I packed up my gear and piled into the "family" (went with my house) van for the trek to Aten for its Highland War.
The first bit of the War was fairly uneventful. None of my house were fighing, the stew wasn't to my liking (although making it was fun--our knives couldn't handle the half-frozen veggies so we chopped them with axeheads), and it was cold, overcast, and rainy.
In other words, welcome to Atenvelt.
The first night, I couldn't sleep (it turned out the second night I couldn't sleep, but for an entirely different reason). Late into the night I wandered the war in search of something interesting. Now, some say a young lady shouldn't walk a war alone at night, but I had a rather large sword with me, and that's a much greater comfort than an escort, especially as I'm the best fighter in my household. Anyway, I wandered about, getting lost and finding home again, getting lost and finding home again, getting lost and being annoyed that I'd found home again, and eventually I caught the sound of distant drumming. Following the sound I arrived at the only camp that still had stuff going on. There was a bright fire, at least ten (SKILLED!!) drummers, a flutist, and many revelers.
All men.
I was timid to approach them, being as there were no dancers and, so far as I saw, no women at all, but rather passed slowly by, in the shaddows but near enough to watch their revelry.
When I got back home again next I'd found that one of my brothers' tent had collapsed upon him and was trying very hard to kill him. I helped him disentangle himself and escape, but at this point he was very much awake and came wandering with me.
As luck would have it, we ended up at the same camp again, and this time went in. Now there were indeed lady revelers (although still no dancers) and the drummers were taking a short break. Emboldened by friendly company, I approached the musicians and complemented them on their skills. One of them, the flutist, stood out (for whatever reason) and as the others wandered off, he and I talked and flirted for a bit. (He remembers it differently, having been quite drunk at the time) My brother wasn't doing so well adjusting to a new situation, and we both headed home.
Watching the battles the next day, another brother was taking pictures. He'd just about run out of film when the marshalls called a hats-off. Wanting to use his last picture, he found an interesting fighter. With a cry of "this one's bleeding" he attracted the young lord's attention. He turned around, bleeding from the head, and, looking past my brother, fixed his attention on me. He was, in fact, the flutist from the revel.
"It's the raven-haired beauty"
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