faderift | In the summer, I remember

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.

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The bird cackles, and Kain rolls his eyes, taking out a small handful of nuts that seem to be among his favorite food. It’s the best kind of distraction he knows to give, but it does work to shut him up for a time. He looks back to Mal.

“Bastard came to me with an… array of phrases already learned. He doesn’t mean them personally as far as I can tell. He’s just, well, a bastard. Apparently he was owned by a dwarf before he came to me, or so some of the phrases strongly indicate.”

"Wait- so his name is literally bastard? I can call him that and not get hit?" Or bit. Biting is his real concern here.

"...How did a foutu dwarf end up with a tropical bird? He do'n business up north or somth'n?" Because that didn't make a lick of sense.

"Literally Bastard. I tried asking him and that's the only answer he'll ever give. It's terribly fitting, though. Isn't that right, Bastard?" The bird squawks happily, stretching his wings and going on and on about Andraste's left tit.

Kain rolls his eyes at his feathered companion, "I never met the dwarf personally, so I cannot say, but I've heard Seheron mentioned as a probable starting location, perhaps he was a merchant of some sort who met a bad end. Bastard is all bark and no bite, at least." He's never had a problem, aside from the random shouting.

"Feathery li'l bastard." That...should not be so satisfying. On a whim he pulls a bit of dried fruit from his pocket and offers it up to make him quit going on about divine breasts. He's sure they're mighty fine but hear'n about 'em like this over and over seems a little sinful.

Not that he's got all that much room to talk 'bout sin.

"Birds like him tend to get mean and bite if they get annoyed. Good to hear this one's plenty friendly."

"Bastard, Bastard!" The bird is ecstatic as he repeats his name.

Kain watches, adding, "He's all too fond of attention too. Attention and food, the two things he craves most. Give him those and he tends to behave."

Sure enough, Bastard snaps the fruit up piece by piece, gobbling it down fast.

"I have to admit, it was almost amusing after the fact when he disrupted a chantry service. A nuisance at the time, though. But I've learned how to handle him well. He used to try to eat my hair for a time there."

"Cheerful little fella, ain't he?" Kinda charming when he's not swearing up a storm. Mal's seen birds like this before, enough to know that if it's not biting, he can probably risk scratching the feathers on the top of it's head.

Monty's parrot liked that.

"Oh yeah, they tend to do that. S'pecially if they got braids or beads in it. Got a friend with one like this, not half so vulgar, little bigger, little meaner. Keeps try'n to eat his beard."

"Too cheerful. Sometimes I just know he's enjoying himself far too much when he gets a reaction out of people." Kain watches carefully, but Bastard is in good spirits, so the scratching is well-received. The parrot even makes some delighted squawking sounds. He thinks that they tend to mean 'happy' anyway.

"He still does it when he's in a grumpy mood, or when he wants something... Did your friend's talk at all? I'm wondering if he can be trained in time..." Though Kain has this feeling that his favorite phrasing is pretty much there to stay, for now.

"Oh, yeah. Mimicry's what they do, can't rightly talk. Some of 'em are smart enough to put words and things t'gether but these guys are pretty, loud, and not all that smart." A beat. "When it comes to talkn human words, that is. He can be trained t'mimic new stuff if you want. Just gotta have treats on hand and reward the behaviour you like. Ain't all that different from train'n a dog, a horse, or a kid."

“I figured as much. Not intelligent in the way we’re used to, perhaps, but he does seem clever enough to understand the reactions he gets from those around him… and clever enough to get what he wants.” After all, the bird has managed to get a pretty great life going, with Kain. Somehow or other he’d tricked him into taking him in and caring for him as he has. “I’ll have to keep at it, then… I know he responds well to treats.” It’s the best way to get him silent for a time, to stop unwanted pestering.

"You know what that one liked most? Candied orange soaked in a little brandy. Made it speak Antivan." Not sure if that was at all connected or if it was just drunk but hey. Every little bit helps.

“Now you’ll give him ideas,” Kain remarks as he looks at his bird. But he says that fondly enough, figuring that if Bastard is happy, then it’s for the better. “I may have to try that out though. He’s been fond of drink, ales mostly, but I could see him going for that as a treat…”

In the summer, I remember

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