Meadows of Competition, Dwarven Kingdom.

34th of Samue, the month of Planting;

2126 years since the new gods came.

The second day of competition has ended, and Bjorn...got drunk. Again. I am home now. Looks like I didn't miss much while I was away, just another handful of calling cards. Turns out the competition is held for two weeks, three times a year. I want to go back.

*-*-*

34th of Samue, morning.

“How you holding up, Bjorn?” Max said loudly to his companion.

“Grumble, grumble, loud, grumble.” Was Bjorn's reply, as he shook his head slowly.

“If you don't hurry up, you are going to miss the competition!” Max said, lowering his voice, as he opened the tent flap in the post dawn light. Light that just accidentally pierced Bjorn's eyes.

“I hate you, Heretic. You know that, right?”

Max laughed, “Just some payback for the last time.”

Bjorn grumbled to himself as he crawled off his cot, and fell to the ground. “Who's daft idea was it to give these 'mortal' bodies the ability to get hangovers?*”

“No clue. But it does add to the 'mortal' experience.” Max laughed.

A half hour later found them eating a filling porridge with dried fruit and honey. “So, when does the match resume today?” Max asked as he scraped out the last of the porridge.

“Just after noon is the traditional time. I don't think it has moved this year.” Bjorn replied, just as the head gnome walked over.

“Time change for the Axe Throwing Championship! It stares in an hour!” Said Adan, Gnome lord of Rockton and head of the judges of the Meadows of Competition. “Bjorn! Nice to see you are alive this fine morning! I hope you didn't drink too much?”

“Stupid short stack. You know I drank to much last night. You almost poisoned me again!” Bjorn replied, looking sick.

“I did nothing of the sort! You said you could match me shot for shot!” Adan shot back. “Not my fault you're a light weight.”

“Piss off. I'm going to the privy to puke.” Bjorn wandered off towards the latrines.

“Such a sore loser.” Adan shook his head, “So, Max, can I call you Max? How have you been enjoying the Meadow?”

“I suppose you can call me Max, as any tormentor of Bjorn is a friend of mine.” Max replied with a grin, “As for the Meadows, I've been enjoying them immensely. I especially enjoyed the pre tournament jousting last evening.”

The pleasant small talk of the two lasted for several more minutes before Adan had to depart.

*-*-*

Bjorn threw his last axe at the target, hitting it squarely in the center. The crowd gave a halfhearted cheer, and he stumbled towards the end of the course, panting. He knew his performance was bad, but not how bad until he saw the clock: 5 minutes, 37 seconds. Well shit. At least I finished better than last year. I really need to stop drinking so much. He fell over, and went back to sleep, mere feet past the finish line.

Maxwell turned away from his friends very poor performance and smiled, he had won back his bet plus interest, having bet that Bjorn would complete the competition, but take more than 5 minutes, and fail to even place.

He let his feet take him around the meadow, and watched several fencing matches, saw a mage in horrible makeup juggle balls of fire, and generally enjoyed himself. Until Bjorn finally caught up to him.

“I can't believe you left me like that! They were using me as the finish line! 'Kick the Dwarf' to finish your time!” Bjorn complained, rubbing his side. “I'm going to have bruises for weeks!”

Max looked at him, eyebrow cocked. “Really?”

“Well, okay, a few minutes...seconds.” Bjorn corrected himself. “But still, the, the indignity of the thing!”

Bjorn continued to grumble as they walked the Meadow.

*-*-*

35th of Samue,

This week is going to be a bit tough. We need to turn in our first real project by the end of the week, a bowl.

38th of Samue,

Turned in my bowl today. 8” at the mouth, 4” deep, nice rim and balanced bottom. I'm glad it didn't crack like the last one during the cooling process. Next week is a Vase. I will spend the rest of this week practicing.

* It was actually Bjorn's idea.