The Merry Llewd

The old deer's statement was so firm, it was clear that there was little choice, and there was little time for preparation. Saturday would be the first full moon of the new year, evidently the optimal time for the event. The route was set, the families along it were notified. Those who would opt out were given the opportunity. In some cases friends or relatives could step in.

The event would start and end at the castle, looping down High Street, and up Market. The final destination, the courtyard, was a beehive of activity. Carpenters, weavers, thatchers and even the royal blacksmith were recruited. The costume was prepared, as was the platform. Clady turned out to be a tough task master. Some of the braver workmen had developed the habit of replying “Yes deer!” to her commands, something she tolerated as long as they were keeping up with their jobs.

Fern, with her gentler touch moved from house to house on the route explaining to blushing wives and husbands just what would be required from them. She was met with some resistance, but also a stern determination to do what was right for the community. Chatter Lee, with her no-nonsense approach, proved to be a strong asset here. After all, this was as much a celebration as a rite. If the townsfolk derived some enjoyment from the festivities, well, that was all the better.

The Abbess would be put in charge of the children.

“What? Me? Chatter Lee is the nanny. I’m not good with foals!”

“You’ll be fine,” Cinny said, trying not to laugh at the obvious dismay children caused the mare. “You’ll have some of the maids and other volunteers to help out. You just need to keep things organized.”

“And keep them out of the way.”

“Yes,” Cinny nodded. “And out of the way. This is hardly kid friendly event.”

“I suppose I can handle it. Though I’d rather be in on the event.” She smirked and her ears splayed slightly in embarrassment.

Cinny winked and reached across to pat the unicorn’s light blue arm. “You work on pulling this off, and I think the Count and I can figure out a special event to reward you.” The Count was across the desk, focused on his planning papers, but the blush on his nose betrayed what he’d heard.

“Once we’ve recovered,” he muttered from his position behind the desk.

True to form, the Abbess turned the kids event into something as complicated as the adult one. A massive sleepover in the Ponyvanian Museum would be planned.

The bakeries were working overtime to meet the demand for the children’s event, which produced even more work for the Abbess. Daven, the resident dragon, had been called upon to light and maintain the baking, brewing and distilling fires to such a degree that he’d developed throat issues. She found herself with a rather unusual research project in searching for dragon remedies. It turned out that dragons were not big on medicine, and what little information she could find called for inaccessible ingredients. She had to improvise. The final concoction included honey, minerals, and spectral peppers. A recent import from the southern griffon lands, the last ingredient was best handled with tongs. The thick fluid required transportation in a glass-lined, iron cask.