Wars of the Roses 2016

Let’s just get this out of the way now and then break this up by day. Roses was Hot. Too hot. Oppressively hot and muggy. Saturday was 95 degrees Fahrenheit with humidity in the mid 80%. Sunday was an almost cool feeling 90 degrees.

Saturday:

I got on site about 10-ish and hung out on the list field with niece until my friend turned up with his adorable not-my-dog that I got to puppysit all day. The rest of the afternoon was spent bouncing between my camp and watching the fighting/fencing until court. Note: due to the heat I was a very scandalous woman and only wore one layer. Also no veil (it’s gone walkabout) and no shoes. Niece of awesome shot a lot of archery in the morning before parking herself in camp under the camp shade with popcicles and water.

Saturday court:

I got to watch three people that have been working to try and teach me to fence get their silver rapier. I choose my teachers well. These were very, very well earned. I also got to watch a local woman, an amazingly talented local woman, get elevated to the order of the Laurel.

The highlight of court for me though?

My husband got his award of arms. Words were done by his teacher (Master Magnus) and are:

At the Flower-Clash, Skarphedinn inn havi was called before Kenric the king and Avelina the queen. A skald was called to speak on the man’s deeds. This is what was said.

Iron-tower
of terrible power
crushes our foes,
his fearsome blows
breaking their ranks,
reddening the banks
of Gjöll – the raven
glutton-haven.

Thunder roars
rankle the boars
to run – a dog
drives through the fog
and the corpse-mud –
cowering from flood,
their hides bear brunt
of Har of the hunt.

Stalwart skilled Skarphedin
stands proud, and skull-laden

This beast of might,
bearing the light
touch of service,
settles the nervous
with gilded voice,
grasping the choice
of peace when force
the plainer recourse.

The wisdom of old –
the ancient gold
breaker’s advice –
to bear as ice
the weight of the world
with words furled –
feeds the rowan
a feast to grow in.

Stalwart skilled Skarphedin
stands humble, grace-laden

These things opposed –
proud-strong battle-oak
by fire disposed
to fulsome smoke –
speak of a man
of spear-knowledge
and knowledge-span
like spear-hall edge.

Praise-fit the ash
of ancient roots
that stands in boots
of Bragi and clash
of wounding-poles,
with winding trunk
that battled and sunk
the bravest of souls.

Stalwart skilled Skarphedin
stands – worthy of honor laden

Then all were called to remember the deeds of Skarphedinn and give him his due honor. It was the Time of Remembrance, fifty-one years after the Settling.

Scroll lovingly made by a very dear friend Katrusha Skomoroh.

Scarps AOA

That is goat hide. She did the calligraphy and illumination herself on goat hide. I love my friends, and our friends love my lord.

Saturday night:

This was the bardic competition. I got to judge. This was my first time judging any sort of competition and I hope that I was fair and in the same ballpark as my other two judges point wise. I got to see some really awesome performances, including several new people. I couldn’t be prouder of everyone who performed.

Sunday:

Spent the day hanging around camp with one notable exception: baronial heavy weapons champion. So the lay out for this was a bar fight. The fighters started out seated on stools around a table, on the tables were “cups” and daggers. When lay on was called the fighter had to grab a weapon (cup, dagger, table or stool legs) and beat everyone else to deal with them in two five minute fights with a mandatory hydration break in the middle. It was a blast to watch.

Beloved husband was fighting. At one point he did a forward roll, grabbed a dagger, and stabbed an opponent in the throat. It was fairly epic.

Beloved husband is now the baronial heavy champion for Concordia. I’m stupidly proud.

Niece shot more  archery and wandered merchants. Niece has found her niche and it is shooting. I’m proud.

Sunday court:

I boasted in the king and queen on about 2 minutes of warning. I’ve never ever heralded before, so that was never wracking. But hopefully I didn’t bobble as badly as I feel like I did and I did a halfway decent job. Note to self: prep an entrance piece and keep in my back pocket just in case I need to do that again.

Remember those three people who got silver rapiers? They were also all honored with the ram’s horn (baronial fencing award). Husband was called up to take his place as heavy weapons champion.

We also got a flash storm and had to suspend court since we were in a giant barn with a tin roof. Guys? I ran around in the rain, because it was a heat break. It was a lovely, wonderful, thing.

Sunday night:

Bossman and I went and performed the piece he wrote for coronation for their majesties since they were a bit busy the day we did it initially. I think they liked it, they paid us in mead and roses. So that was cool.

We wandered back to our camp to an unofficial bardic circle around our tiny fire bowl. It was awesome. There were awesome performers and I was within easy stumbling distance of my bed. I gave out a bunch of my awesome new bard beads.

I also discovered that my request to make accessibility porter a baronial position (and to hold that position) was approved at the last business meeting! It would have been nice to know that *before* told the baron he couldn’t charge me with anything since I’m not his bard, don’t live in his barony, and hold no official baronial position. Which is when they opted to tell me this had happened. I apparently have some face saving to do.

There was this one woman at the circle. She sat there all night, singing along with everything with a very lovely voice. But she never got up herself. I asked her why later, since bardic is something she very clearly enjoys.

The words that came out of her mouth were words I recognized, because they’re things I hear in my head every time I get up to perform.

I’m not good enough.

I can’t follow that.

No one wants to hear me.

I don’t have the right piece for this.

I can’t do this.

I have really bad stage fright.

It scares me.

It was trippy to hear my brain gremlins come out of someone else’s mouth. But? I know how to fight those particular gremlins. I asked her if she honestly didn’t want to perform or if she actually wanted to but talked herself out of it. She wanted to, it was obvious how badly she wanted to. But she had to say it, and admit it to herself that she wanted to, no matter how much the gremlins tried to talk her out of it.

She is my unofficial student now. I’m going to help her get the tools to beat the snot out of those brain gremlins. Because gremlins lie. She’s going to be awesome as soon as she works up the courage to get up and do it. And I’m already super proud of her for admitting she wants to.

Monday:

Monday was tear down. Nothing exciting happened.

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