Saturday, September 24, 2005

This was a short day trip to Harveysburg, Ohio, there to visit the Renaissance Faire along with some friends. I composed the story afterward in a faux-archaic style. Although those who were there can make sense of the awkward style, I'm putting pseudo-translations into [ ]'s. Go forward and fare thee well!

It was a foggy morn' that greeted us with her smoky embrace, and as we left the warmth of our loft, my wife and I were greeted in turn by our brace of companions. One, the halfling, was long removed in space and time from us and she overcame hardships, both close to her heart and beneath her feet, to join us for the day's festivities [thanks for traveling so far to visit us, Mary!] The others were closer to our fiefdom and from them, we drew the staunch support of their carriage, which was to carry us on the dangerous road that yet spread enticingly before us [hey, Dan!]

Our friend, Dan, looking very Renaissance Faire in this Halloween 2006 image.

Little Tiny Cakes

Before we endured such hardship, however, it behooved us as courteous hosts, to fortify our companions with suitable fare. Petite cakes and goblets o' bean nectar [soy milk] were rendered to them, and there was much rejoicing in the renewing of our mutual ties of long-established affection.

The Zen Way to Travel; So I Broke It

Much bolstered by our bloated bellies, we hastened to the carriage. It was generously contributed and suitable to our needs, though no entertaining minstrel traveled in song with us. We were forced (or perhaps blessed) to plumb the depths of each other's company for the long hours of constraint that any worthy journey properly requires. It was with regret that mine own bludgeoning ham-handedness caused damage to the aforementioned carriage [I broke the car], though this was forgiven by its driver, the Purveyor of Infinite Serenity [hey, Dan!]

The Fumbled Phone Call

We all, to some greater or lesser extent, carried magick with us, and it was by such magick that my own lady-wife did sense that our yet distant companions sought our favor. Unfortunately, her mystical talents were confounded by misdirection. Magick is a fickle thing and it had entangled itself with that of her erstwhile stubby compatriot, the halfling [hey, Mary!] Unable to focus, she could not address the distant thoughts of our kindred spirits, afar. This would make our rendezvous with them far more troublesome than normally encountered by those so talented as ourselves [Jennifer couldn't find the damn phone in her bag].

Arrival at RenFair 2005

Hazzah! We had arrived!

Ah, 'twas a great sight to behold, the village of Harveysburg. It had been overly long since we'd traveled to see her flying buttresses and endless markets. We paid toll to the gatekeepers and entered the square proper.

The external facade of the Harveysburg Renaissance Faire

Close-Knit Knockers and Other Body Critiquing

This worldly locale harbored citizens far more bold than those of our familiar homeland, and one could easily behold quite daring ladies who found it daunting not in the least to spill the smooth, soft endowments that nature gave them upon the cobbled roads before them [self-explanatory]. They often wore the laced strings to contain themselves, but as often as not, these resembled gut twine squeezing an inflated wine bladder to the point of bursting [laced bodices].

One unfortunate gentleman (if "man" was not an overestimation of him, as he seemed more beast if body hair told his story!), saw fit to clothe himself in the attire of something recently slain and little cured. With a body of a shape like a bowl of gelatinous month-old oatmeal, he ladled himself into unsightly piles from one location to the next, somehow seeming, against all that is natural, to maintain our pace. We struggled to no avail in our attempts to avoid him.

Yuk! This picture, borrowed from Wikipedia, captures the attractiveness of the character referenced above.

Many others wore runes and sigla tattooed to their skins, and one could not help but be impressed by how they kept such power close to them.

My lady and I have become much more attuned to such energies, since I claimed my Third Eye of Wisdom and she gained her fortified grounding to Earth through her Root Chakra [we got tattoos in June 2003].

Everything Old is New Again

This was not our first visit to Harveysburg, so much was already familiar to us. Given the privations of our journey, we sought repast at a spot previously known to us. We found satisfaction in a leg of fine bird and a proper tankard of good beer.

Star Crossed Pod Reunion

Throughout our dining, we scouted devoutly, seeking the two companions whom we'd agreed to join upon our arrival [hey, Robert, hey, Leda!]. Alas, as with our magick before, our fleshly eyes likewise made no discovery of their approach. The streets were quite crowded with everyone but them. In fact, we were to continue our star-crossed efforts throughout our time in the village.

The B-Cup Leather Treasure Chest

There was much to draw the eye and the coinpurse in the busy streets. Perhaps most noteworthy was a woman's leather garment, randy in style, with elegant stitching that was quite suggestive of carnal knowledge. Words appeared in various parts of the outfit's geography, with the most bold ones being "Treasure Chest" over the body part of like name. Other areas included "Continental Shelf" (underneath the treasure), "Virgin Seas" (obvious) and "Unexplored Territory" (also obvious).

The leather bustier illustrated here resembles the one we saw at the RenFaire, but without the quaint labels for the various parts of the anatomy.

Other entertainment included a dog-drawn cart and a gaggle of parrots licking the ice that great magick had rendered against the heat of the day.

Clear the Board!!

As with all villages, this one harbored enough people of different minds that disagreement was bound to ensue. One such group took themselves to an open field, there to settle their differences through feat of strategy combined with feat of hand and arm [they had a human chessboard]. While most of our group stood as agape spectators, one of our number was able to unearth our erstwhile companions from afar. It was a glorious reunion against the backdrop of violence, one which, I daresay, quite touched us all by its brutality. Fortunately, it was short-lived, as all prideful events are, especially when their resolution is held to the standard of the hot summer sun. The sun usually wins.

Hands, Humps, Horns, Hooves, Hilts

Together, we accumulated quite a hoard of treasures from the various merchants hawking their wares.

My Lady and I had agreed beforehand to procure sweetmeats and almonds, and these we found with little distress. Among our other goods were works of art from a storytelling elf, a fantastical portrait of a beautiful succubus with succulent thighs and bosom, a like painting of a centaur with mighty thews and withers, and we found horn-carved dishes for those engaging in the city-bred (if awkward) habit of using utensils. My good wife wanted and found a utensil of her own...a great blade, large enough to skewer the heart of an ox and still have length left for its liver. She's a headstrong one, my woman, and one does not stand in the path of her blade.

Dan's woman spent time with a soothsayer, whose occult magick transmuted her into a mischievous bogglin, complete with horns! Fortunately, she was quite taken with her new horns and they did truly suit her. It was a rare time to see the attributes without mirror the soul within. The ritual of transformation was quite worth her tendered coin. Her man showed his virtuous serenity of character and disciplined self-restraint, for he resisted the temptations of the village and left with the contents of his coinpurse entirely intact [Dan was too cheap to buy anything].

The Fairy Queen's Blessing

The Lady of the Lake welcomed us for a time at the shores of her watery domain and there, we took preparation to depart the village. Good fortune smiled upon us, for we were visited by a fairy, whose delightful wings and silent smile proved enriching to the spirit. She spoke not a word, knowing our ears were not attuned to fairyspeak, but hovering in a ring with us, she did bless us with song and a touch of her sylvan magick [an actor on the grounds pantomimed around us]. The good fairy also buoyed mine own exhausted spirits, and with her fluttering wings, she shielded my good wife and me as we shared a kiss that held a different kind of magick altogether.

Wa-a-a-ay Down on the Damn Farm

We left Harveysburg for the third summer running. Unwilling to spoil such a young reunion, our party decided to travel to a tavern for food, drink and merriment. We found such a place, though it was so deep into the countryside that one would not have been surprised to encounter subterranean dwarves, eagerly mining their precious stones. But the fare was quite satisfying to bellies long-emptied of their bird from midday and we sat like sponges and soaked up spirits and other liquid. The sun had been quite unforgiving and we had sweated out enough of our own water to marinate a small dog.

Our group was older and hopefully wiser than when we first crossed paths more than ten winters ago. Still, we spoke of simpler times and contrasted them with the complexities that our lives have now become. We compared our bands of promise to our life partners and laughed at how we've all had children who are four of foot and fur of back. Finally, our horned bogglin used her magick to freeze a moment of our day in place, there to share with us at a later time.



The two of our companions from afar at last took their leave, promising to stay in touch by letter and in our dreams.

Dan Not-So-Sharp

Our original group, with the blond halfling, the red-headed bogglin, the sedate listener, my armed and armored wife and myself, the word wizard, all began our journey home. I sympathized with our Serene Man, who had to drive the carriage all himself. While I had no problem with providing him whatever assistance he needed, his carriage was a complicated beast, all levers, pulleys and cogs; far beyond my ability to weave words into realities [it was a standard shift, and I couldn't volunteer to take a turn at driving]. By the journey’s end, I’ve little doubt that he was quite worn down from his usual sharp edged awareness.

Dan looks a bit "dead" after the long drive home.

The End of a Wonderful Knight

The night came to an end when we saw the lights of home. We bid our friends and their carriage good night and wished them well. Our greatest hope is to travel with them again when we revisit Harveysburg village next year!

Fare thee well and many ye thanks!