In the summer, I remember

[rowancrowned]

WHO: Thranduil, Legolas, anyone good with a bow or who enjoys the wine on offer.
WHAT: ROOTY TOOTY POINT N SHOOTY ARCHERY CONTEST
WHEN: 8th of Bloomingtide, midmorning until sunset.
WHERE: Valley
NOTES: log for a friendly wager! 

The eighth of Bloomingtide began as a chilly morning; not quite cold enough to leave frost on the budding flowers and fresh-sprouted plants in the heights of Skyhold, but nearly, nearly.

By the time the sun was been in the sky for a few hours, most of the early-morning chill had burned off, leaving a day that promised to be nearly too-hot for those who would be stuck in full-plate and in direct sunlight. Thranduil wasn’t expecting any to come clanking down to his little fete, but had none the less secured a spot in the shade. Varric had apparently found him while he was still working on organizing—the target launchers are set neatly in line with everything else. Along the clay pigeon launchers were the standard, stock targets, blindfolds—and on a table off to the side was a few bottles of sweet wine beside loaves of brown bread and hard cheeses.

The contest did not pretend to be anything other than what it was; a chance to meet, and mingle, and possibly show off archery skills. The purses wrested next to the wine and cheese and Thranduil himself. He had found a chair to rest in while waiting for the contestants to arrive, dressed plainer than he had so far allowed himself to be seen. On his fingers, four rings glittered—but his confidence in Legolas was so absolute, he doubted he would lose even one before the days was out.

Comments

[sunshinethroughgrey]

Bethany looks over at him for that, and for all her teasing ... she certainly didn't want Obi Wan to believe she did not to force him into anything. Her expression shifts, from mildly amused to something more serious.

"Of course I want us to be friends, and if it bothers you that much, we'll never mention it again." She sighed herself, "I apologize if my questions have made you uncomfortable, or put upon. I suppose I just wanted to make sure that it wasn't ... me."

She dipped her head in apology, "Please forgive me for my need for small vanities."

[obi_wanmanshow]

Obi-Wan is quiet for a moment, and then another. The silence stretches in slow breaths, punctuated by the cheering of the crowd and the sound of arrows meeting targets. The contest has gone on around them, unperturbed. And why not? From the outside, they might have been talking about anything at all.

He sighed.

"I apologize, I shouldn't have said that," He said, quietly, and meant it with all his heart, "It really isn't you, you know. You're challenging, and charming, and if I'm honest, quite beautiful. You can certainly do better than one ridiculous old Jedi Master who can't even get through a conversation without losing his composure."

[sunshinethroughgrey]

She looked down at her hands then, before looking up at his apology. Her brown eyes were troubled, but she managed a smile for him and a quiet nod of the head. Then she scoffed gently.

"You're not ridiculous or old, so just stop that nonsense right now." She stated firmly, before she put her gaze back out to the archery contest, "My taste in girlish infatuations -- and more importantly friends - are people of worth in all aspects. So I won't hear you putting yourself down."

She took up her cup again, "So ... we are square, Obi Wan. Drink your wine."

[obi_wanmanshow]

"Yes, ma'am."

He drinks his wine. He wouldn't dare contradict her, now; besides, it's actually decent wine, as these things go. Certainly, he's had worse.

"Girlish infatuations?" What a phrase, Bethany. Obi-Wan's going to offer you a raised brow for that, "Honestly."

[sunshinethroughgrey]

She arched an eyebrow at him, and sipped deeply, before she put the cup down and gave him a wry little smile.

"Would you prefer womanly lusts instead?" She tipped a grin at him. "Honestly, yourself."

[obi_wanmanshow]

"No comment," he said, though his tone was a wry, sarcastic comment all on it's own, "But, yes."

It's the small things that let you get through the day. Get through it without feeling like a dirty old man, anyways. Perhaps a topic change was in order.

"I feel I've spoken a great deal lately, about the Jedi Order. And I know so little about your world, your homeland. Where are you from, Bethany?"

[sunshinethroughgrey]

At that, she laughs, then covers her mouth as she does so to choke down her giggles so she does not disturb the archers. She glances over at him, before she speaks with a little more ...decorum.

"I am from all over, really. We moved a great deal when I was a child. I was born in Fereldan, and raised for some years in a small town called Lothering."

[obi_wanmanshow]

"Ah, I know this one. Ferelden, that's the place everyone insists is mainly mud and dogs, but really it's no worse than anywhere else, and nicer than many," Obi-Wan likes humble things, at least in concept. He appreciates their existence, "Although, of course, there's nothing wrong with dogs."

He might be halfway to joking, but he knows enough about Ferelden to append that afterthought to the end. The temple didn't raise him to be a fool.

[sunshinethroughgrey]

"That's the one precisely." Bethany's lips twitched up, "And to give you a little more background - we do not have mud - we have the most fertile land in all of Thedas, with an annual rainfall that farmers swoon for. And our dogs, as they call them, are mabari. The most intelligent of all breeds - they are our wardogs and are feared widely."

Bit of pride entering her tone. "We actually own a mabari. I believe our puppy is with Carver right now... that or Marian."

[obi_wanmanshow]

"Fertile farmland is a resource to be respected. Humility will serve a people far better than noblesse, in a crisis."

A drought, for example, or apparantly, a Blight. Armies marched on their bellies, after all.

"Ah, yes. This will be the sister everyone seems to assume I know so much about?" He hasn't encountered Varric's book yet, but Obi-Wan will find it in his hands eventually. Until then, the Champion Hawke of Kirkwall is mere rumor and heresay, to his mind, "And Carver?"

[sunshinethroughgrey]

"Probably why everyone keeps trying to invade us. In the end they know food is more important than how muddy our dogs are." She dimpled once more, before she took another sip of wine.

Amusement flashed across her face, "Yes, that sister. Trust me, you'll hear all the tales, if you go to the tavern." A pause, and her face softened with fondness and beloved aggravation. "My twin brother. He's ... well. He's outspoken and stubborn. In all the heroic ways."