I went to Your Grace’s Yule party, and I had strong drink, what these Westerners call whiskey, for the first time in my life. It was very good to drink, and so I had a lot, perhaps too much if I am being honest.
Actually, I am quite sure that I had too much.
The gift-giving went well enough of course, as I got two boxes. One of them was a waterskin that I still have, and I was very grateful for it; the other was a saddle and reigns, and they were very lovely. I know that they gave them to me because I’m a Plainsman, but I am alright with that. It is not the worst thing that I have been put in the corner with…no that’s not right…stereotype? I suppose that is the word that these people would use, though it is nothing nice in the Charalin tongue, and it’s maybe a bit too strong.
I danced something fierce, and then the man I found out later is the Poet Knight challenged me in a dance. We went back and forth, trading jabs, and it was a good deal of fun, the first such fun I have had in many years. I don’t know how the man knows a Charalin dance so well, but he seemed to know it very well indeed. We danced back and forth, with Your Grace playing the instrument fast enough to help us with the tempo of the dancing.
And just as I was about done with the dancing and Your Grace was slowing down his music, it happened.
I was sick right in the face of the Poet Knight of Lithmore.
Your Grace came over quick and told me that it was alright and to get home. I ran out of there as quickly as I could, and I went home in shame. I mailed the man my apology and the saddle later on in the week.
If he knows half as much about our ways as he does our dances, then he’ll know that a saddle given to him from a Plainsman is a serious apology indeed.