[Loch-Ruadh] Gulf War Missive - Day Four

[Pádraig Ruad Ó Maolagáin]

Pray forgive my delay in writing this missive; Tuesday turned out to be
very busy, and I did not sit down again at my desk to continue my writings
until this morning.

On Monday evening, our dear friend and Titled Bard Grimulf came into camp
with a group of wanderers that also included Wiley.  Grimulf stayed for
some time, sharing a drink and singing some songs.  Some time later, a
lady came into camp looking for bards to perform for HRM Romanius and also
HRM Trimaris just down the road at the Rosenfeld encampment.  My good
friends gathered up my chair, guitar, mug and some beer, and we walked
(well, I hobbled) down the road to Rosenfeld.  The beer was my homebrew
that I made specifically for War; I opened a bottle for Alric, then one
for Rolf, then one for myself.  The first two opened with no trouble – the
last popped like a bottle of champagne and became a beer volcano.  Note to
self – chill the homebred better before opening.

As I stated in my earlier brief missive, I struck the first blow for
Ansteorra against the Trimarians by hitting Duke Bitor with both my
crutches.  That he brought it on himself by knocking them away from the
pavilion pole I had them leaning against matters not – he called the blows
“good”.  There were many excellent performances, including TRMs Ansteorra
and Trimaris, and Duke Bitor and Duke Patrick Michael (I’ll tell an
expanded tale about both these fine Dukes when we return from War) as
well.  I had the opportunity to perform a duet with an excellent Trimarian
bard named Corwin, who is blind – we made quite the joke about the blind
bard and the gimp bard performing together.

Tuesday dawned fair and bright, and we gathered for coffee and
conversation under the common area pavilions.  Polydore and I made our way
slowly up to my vehicle, as we had to travel to Hattiesburg for supplies
for that evening’s supper.  On the way, we encountered Daniel O’Ceilechair
in the Axemoor encampment, where he tried to force alcohol upon us. 
(Well, okay, he succeeded.)  We finally got to the parking lot and headed
toward Hattiesburg, only to be pelted by a driving rainstorm.  Thankfully
this was brief, and was over by the time we arrived in town.  We gathered
our supplies and returned to prepare supper, a fine meal of Udgar’s Viking
Fried Chicken, Scolai’s Irish Fried Praties, and Cole’s Slaw.

As we were cleaning up after supper, a wagon arrived from the Chirurgeon’s
Revel, where I had been asked to come and perform the sonnet I wrote in
honor of chirurgeons after Caerell’s heart attack two years ago.  I
quickly dressed and was taken to Five Points Corner, where I recited my
sonnet, which seemed to be well received.  I stayed for a while as they
plied me with good mulled wine and watched a wonderful troupe of fire
dancers perform, and then returned to camp, where I found our good friend
Uriah performing by the fire.  He shared several songs and tales with us
before moving on.  A visitor from Gulf Wars past, a bard named Dolen from
Calontir (some of you may remember him as the bard who claimed that all
Calontiri songs are about doom, death and destruction) arrived and stayed
with us for several hours.  Grimulf also returned and we had a fine time
sharing songs, stories and good companionship until the wee hours of the
morning.

Today dawned somewhat cloudy and even as I write these words, the rain has
begun to fall.  But we all expect rain at some point during War, and are
not dismayed (though I did want to hobble up to Merchant’s Row today – we
shall see what the weather does).

Dana will be glad to know that as yet, there have been no pop tart
sightings in camp, though Vigolf did actually have a little head in bed
last night – unfortunately for him, there was no body attached to it.

I sing at the Green Dragon tonight at 8:00pm, and wish that all of you
could be there to sing along with us.  I will write more later in the
week, as time and communications lines permit.

Padraig
-- 
Nunc est bibendum.
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Politicians prefer unarmed peasants.