FESTIVAL

"Oh! Good! You're back!" Mookie's wife Clarisse exclaimed when they returned to the tower. "I'm not sure about the seasoning."

She and Mookie were stirring the contents of the oddest cooking pot Quill-Weave had ever seen, though the aroma was heavenly.

"Is that..." she began, but Mookie answered before she'd finished.

"Pig trough," he laughed.

"Don't worry, we scoured it clean before we started. It was Rosie's idea though."

"A pig trough?" Quill turned to her maid.

"It was the only thing big enough! Now come on. Both of us need to get this grease off!"

"Wait one second. Isn't anybody going to ask why I'm naked? Or covered in grease?!"

Mookie turned to his wife, who shrugged.

"Sorry Quill. We just figured... well... let's face it. In those circumstances, if you didn't come back naked - that would be the bigger surprise, no?"

Quill sighed and nodded. He had a point.

An hour, and a few gallons of hot water later via a makeshift outside shower, both Quill-Weave and Rosie were soaked but clean of the grease at last. Quill-Weave was quickly dried with a towel, but Rosie required a much more vigorous towelling - which was soon moved indoors at Clarisse's urging for them to 'get a room'.



"We'd better get back," Rosie said later. "It's getting late and they're probably beginning to wonder if we really have any food for them. But what will we wear?"

"Let's wear the hayseed outfits we wore to the farm. But yeah. We can't spend all afternoon in bed I suppose. Besides, you're dry enough by now," Quill said to the ceiling.

"Mostly," Rosie giggled, but Quill-Weave nudged the khajiit's head off her stomach and got up to get dressed.

Soon all four were headed back to the festival with buckets of yellow rice and seafood. In fact, it would take three more trips to transport all of the paella back to the festival, but at their arrival they were greeted as long-lost heroes. Or at least the food was.

Long rows of crude tables had been set up quickly and the four from the tower ended up delivering their food to the crowd with large spoons. By the time everyone had gotten their share, Quill had begun to despair if she'd actually get any herself.

But finally they were seated as well and Quill, though not surprised, was nonetheless delighted by Rosie's cooking again.

"Rosie, you really should think about opening a restaurant or something! Your talents are wasted as a maid."

For her part, Rosie just smiled. "I don't know. Most people don't like the idea of a khajiit cook, Quill. They think we'd leave fur in the food or something."

"You could wear a cap, like the human chefs do."

"Quill..." Rosie frowned. "All over?"

"Well, besides that - you don't leave fur anywhere back home."

"I wouldn't make a very good maid if I did!"

"How do you do it anyway?"

"Morning brushing. Lots of morning brushing."

"I could do that for you," Quill said, looking intently into the pink eyes of her maid.

"Aw, look at those two," Clarisse said to Mookie. "Isn't young love wonderful?"

Mookie looked up from his spoon at the two.

"Mmmhmm," he mumbled around his mouthful. "Mderfl."

Clarisse hit his arm playfully. "Like you would know. When's the last time you gave me a bath?"

At that Mookie's eyes went wide and he swallowed hard.

"Oh, nevermind. Alas, this is what love turns into. Enjoy it while you can you two."

Quill pulled Rosie to herself. "We will, won't we?"

Rosie fairly beamed at that. "I hope so!"

Later, Mrs. April came by and gave Rosie heartfelt thanks for saving the festival with her cooking.

"Hey! I paid for it, you know!" Quill-Weave pointed out with mock indignity.

"And thanks to you too, Quill, of course! And... just between us two... I think you look better in denim than black leather."

"You might be right about that," Quill nodded. "I'm thinking about hanging up the old girl, Mrs. April. Permanently. I think I've found other, more productive things to do anyway."

"Oh? Well now, don't be too hasty - or put too much weight in this old dowager's words, Quill-Weave. This town would be a much poorer place without the Mistress of Evil back in the old tower. And don't forget who rebuilt it!"

Quill looked seriously at the old lady. She was the matriarch of the village, most would agree.

"But... I'm so bad at it. You must admit I come off as a clown most of the time."

"Perhaps. But is that such a bad role to play? You're loved here, Quill. Surely you know that. And I'm sure we would come to love Rosie too. Especially after today's feast."

"I'll think about it, Mrs. April."

The grey head turned towards her, and though the old biddy infuriated her from time to time, Quill-Weave also realized that she had a good heart, even if it was surrounded by an inflated and perhaps a bit self-centered ego.

"Please do," said the matron of the village in a low but sincere voice. "But now, it's time for the last event. The piglet races and the running of the greased pig! And you're dressed appropriately for it too. Come along with me, I think you'll enjoy this."

With that, Quill-Weave and Rosie stepped back from the table and followed Mrs. April to the grandstand.

In their absence, a hastily-constructed low fence had been placed around the outer track where footraces had been run earlier. Now most of the crowd had returned to the stands, while a group of farmers and swineherds were gathering at the far end of the track with their noisy entrants in their arms. Quill-Weave was not surprised to see their friend Mr. Feldman in the group with his prize-winning piglet in his arms as well.

"...pretty simple," Mrs. April was explaining to Rosie. "They just let them go over there. The pigs will then run around this track, passing us here first and go all the way around again. When they finally get all the way back around to us, the piglet in first place wins. That's about it."
Soon the race was on. Of course Rosie was cheering on Mr. Feldman's Princess as the piglet race began. A group of yelling children provided the impetus behind the pigs' mad dash, but though Princess was running well, a large, mottled pig was clearly the front runner. As they rounded the grandstand Princess saw Princess stumble and fall behind, at which Rosie stood up and began yelling encouragement to the pig.

She was not alone, as Quill noticed more and more people getting into the excitement and cheering their favorites on. She turned to Mrs. April with a quizzical look.

The old lady smiled at her. "Oh, there is quite a bit of wagering on this race, Quill. In fact, I have a tidy sum myself on Mr. Tennyson's piglet. Who, by the way, is in dead-last place I am disappointed to admit."

Whether it was due to Rosie's relentless cheering after that, or the screams of the children chasing the piglets, somehow by the time they began closing in on the grandstand again Princess had nearly recovered her position at the front of the racing piglets. However, it was clear that the big mottled pig was going to win. It was just too far in front by then.

The groans from the crowd as they crossed the finish line outweighed a few cheers, as these things usually did when wagering is involved.

"Well, she came in second," Rosie said, sitting down with Quill-Weave again. "That's not bad."

Mrs. April rose and turned to Rosie. "No, that's not bad at all. Next up the winner will be greased up and let loose in the middle of the field. The first to catch the piglet gets to keep it. You might be interested in signing up for that, Miss Rosie. However... Something is bothering me about Mr. Olfine's mottled grey. Please excuse me, I need to speak with someone before that happens."

"What do you think, Rosie? Want to try and catch a greased pig?" Quill-Weave laughed.

Rosie hugged her in mock horror. "MORE grease?"

"Oh, go on. It's the last event of the festival anyway. Go down and sign up."

"You don't want to join in?" Rosie asked, but she was making her way past Quill-Weave in her eagerness.

"Not this time, Rosie. Besides, I'd just end up naked again somehow."

"That," Rosie laughed back as she went down the stairs at the side of the grandstand, "Is probably true!"

Quill-Weave smiled back, then turned her attention to Mrs. April who had become engaged in what apparently was a heated discussion between her, the mottled pig's owner, and the festival's officials.

Finally, an official emerged from the discussion, brandishing a megaphone.

"Attention! There has been a disqualification. The winning pig - Finesse by Mr. Olfine - has been disqualified as being older than the one-year maximum for this contest. Therefore, the winning piglet is Mr. Feldman's Princess. I repeat, the winning piglet is Princess by Mr. Feldman!"

A small cry went up as those few who had bet on Princess rapidly pressed their claims, but Quill-Weave noticed that Rosie didn't seem to hear the news since she was waiting in line for the greased pig catch.

Suddenly Quill-Weave realized what was going to happen. Somehow, someway, Rosie was going to catch Princess. The realization was as tangible as the hat on her head. It didn't matter how, it didn't matter why. As an author, she saw the invisible threads of fate coming together. Rosie was going to win the pig, and she was going to want to keep it.

There was simply no way this fate wasn't going to happen. And it drove Quill-Weave into an immediate and deep depression.

To say Quill-Weave was not good with pets was a gross understatement. She had resigned herself to not keeping animals of any kind. To do so was a death-sentence to the animal. She'd heard of people who could grow any plant as having a 'green thumb'. She had a black thumb, not only with plants but with animals as well.

As this was sinking in, she had a moment's bright thought. But the pig wouldn't be her pet, it would be Rosies. Maybe it would be alright?

However, that thought brought another, more terrible thought to her. What if her 'black thumb' didn't just extend to plants and pets? What if Rosie herself would be subject to it? Granted, in most cases in the past it had been her own negligence that had led to the inevitable outcome. And to be fair, she'd never really bonded with a pet or a plant in any meaningful way. That was probably part of the cause. Her relationship with Casta didn't really count since it had been a long-distance romance at best.

But, though she'd not really put such thoughts into words before, she wanted Rosie to stay with her. After her and Casta's breakup, she feared she might be latching onto Rosie emotionally as a kind of rebound to Casta's rebuff of her affections. It had been a pretty rapidly-escalating relationship after the breakup.

She waved back to Rosie as she saw her pin a contestant number to her shirt and join the others in the center of the field while the pig Princess was slathered with grease on the far side.
She hoped her inner conflict wasn't noticeable to the khajiit. It was Rosie's moment, and her own doubts and worries shouldn't interfere with her friend's happiness. She smiled crookedly back at Rosie, hopefully indistinguishable from the genuine thing from this distance.

The piglet was released, and the twenty-ish group of hopefuls began the mad dash to try and snag the pig. It's squeaking displayed it's fear as hands grabbed at it while it zigged and zagged across the field. One young man fairly tackled it as it tried to speed past, wrapping it in his arms tightly, and it looked like the game was over.

But somehow it popped out between his arms like a bar of soap and jetted into an open area, leaving the yelling crowd behind.

Meanwhile, after the mad start of the game, Rosie had stopped chasing the piglet. In fact, it was clear she was actively trying to stop the proceedings - though her pleas were in vain. Quill could read her friend's reaction easily. Rosie could see the fear in the poor thing's eyes and in her empathetic way, she was trying to stop it from being frightened to death.

The pig swung around to one side, following the fence line back away from the grandstand, and her pursuers now chased behind. Quill-Weave let go a chuckle, realizing how similar the scene looked to the pig races just so recently - but now the people were the pigs.

One contestant, however, was not chasing Princess. Rosie had seen the progress from the other side of the field and had sat down. Instead of chasing Princess, Rosie had her arms out, encouraging the frightened animal into her lap.

And it worked. Princess bounded into her lap and Rosie began to stroke it, trying to calm it, while the other contestants came upon her. Quill lost sight of her friend then, but knew the outcome had been decided - if not preordained. Rosie now had a pet, and there was trouble brewing.



Where would she keep such a thing? In the back of her mind, Quill had known she would ask Rosie to move in with her at some point. But now... a pig? She had heard of people who kept pigs as pets of course, but they didn't have Quill's 'black thumb' issue either. And frankly, she had to admit, Quill-Weave simply didn't want a pet.

But she wanted Rosie.