Bor\'s Folly: Jousting Practice

Dusk is swiftly approaching Edoras, and the sun sets behind torn gray clouds to the west -- its dying light painting the winter sky brilliant shades of orange, red, and yellow. Light snow falls from overhead, adding to the layer of snow that has already fallen. In the training fields outside of Edoras a spear is thrust into the ground, and from it the blue standard of Imrahil is hung -- fluttering and flapping slowly in a cool breeze. Next to it is Sir Celondir Telamarth, clad in silvery mail and a bright shining helm, and sat upon the back of a massive bay gelding. From his saddle hangs his shield, in his right hand is gripped a lance.

The Knight himself has asked for the men of Dol Amroth to present themselves on the training fields of Edoras at dusk, fully equipped for war, so that they might train.

Nearby to Celondir is Menelglir, his brown mare cropping peacefully at the grass as he sits relaxed in the saddle, looking toward the entrance of the training fields, waiting in expectation. Now and then he says something low to Celondir.

Lominzil comes onto the field, leading his grey charger in her harness. He is dressed as required, rings faintly gleaming beneath the blue squire\'s tabard -- facial expression lost beneath his helm.

Coming to the standard, he salutes the Knight seated there.

The invitation extended to the men of Gondor did not technically bar the women of the company, and so upon word of mouth, Calenloth has slipped among the shadows of the falling dusk to watch. Jousting? She has only but heard stories. And so here she is, sneaking through the entrance to the fields, her hood drawn over her head. And perhaps if the men are lucky... she may choose to cheer them on.

As Lominzil approaches, Celondir hoists his lance up on high, returning the Blue Squire\'s salute. \"Good evening, Squire Lominzil.\" The Swan-Knight says in a deep and strong voice, each word coming out in a puff of frosty breath. \"We have a fine soft evening for training this day,\" he says with a laugh, as light snow continues to drift down, \"don\'t you think, Sir Menelglir?\" For a moment Celondir\'s gray eyes flick to the knight at his side. \"Squire, why don\'t you arm yourself with a lance, if you please?\" He motions then to the edge of the field, where a rack of freshly turned lances have been set up.

\"A fine evening, yes,\" Menelglir says with a laugh, returning the salute with one hand to his chest. \"And...Some observers as well?\" This is said as he peers toward the figure of someone sneaking into the field. \"Perhaps the Rohirrim come to learn how to joust?\" he grins.

\"Thank you, sir,\" comes Lominzil\'s cool voice from the metal pieces of his helm. He nudges his horse thither, selecting a wooden lance for himself.

Conalmir, circling on his horse, and looking particularly stiff and expressionless, waits.

The Squire Calarion has also responded to the call. He is in his finest, his blue tunic standing out over fine silver mail. His hands are covered with fine black gloves, his right hand is laid upon the pommel of his longsword and his left grasps a small silver shield, decorated in a startlingly new design.

A blue chevron is placed at its center, above it there are three stars, also blue. Yet, below is the central charge of the arms, a black raven stands, its right talon raised, holding the twisted flame of Bragollach, a tribute to his House.

His face, marked with a wide grin, can be seen as the visor of his silver helm has also risen. As he approaches the Knights he speaks, \"Greetings, Sirs.\" He pauses and then presents his shield, \"I thought now would be a good time to present the fruits of a side labor I have been working on over the time of this trip, my armorial bearings. I know that as a Squire, I cannot of yet carry them... at least not until I become a Knight. However, I thought since we are in Rohan, it would be permissible for this occasion.\"

The hooded figure draws closer to the men, two slender hands reaching up to draw back the cloak from her face. \"Good evening, Sirs,\" Calenloth greets the Knights, \"And Squires.\" She smiles, looking at their finery, man by man, as they sit upon their horses. \"Now what is a joust without a Lady to cheer you on?\" she asks, a smirk upon her face.

\"I shall watch,\" she declares. \"But Sir Celondir,\" she begins. \"How does this... happen? Are there rules? An order?\"

\"You are quite correct, Calarion.\" Celondir says with a nod of his head. \"Still, even far away from home... The joust is a time for you to look your finest, and show us your skills.\" A smile flashes across Celondir\'s lips, easily seen in his open faced helm. At Calenloth\'s approach, the Swan-Knight lowers the tip of his lance to the ground, and bows his head to the Lady Bard. \"Lady Calenloth, you honor us with your presence, and even in all our finery and glittering mail... You still outshine us.\" Celondir says sincerely, a hint of a smile still playing on his lips.

\"The rules are simply, my good Lady. We shall tilt three times... Meaning we will ride against each other three times, and each time we will try to strike our worthy foe\'s shield or body. At the end of three rides, the man with the most broken lances wins. Also, should a man unseat his opponent... He wins outright. Do you understand the rules my lady?\" He pauses for a moment to see if she does. \"As Captain of the List Field tonight I will choose the order, and as such... I challenge Sir Menelglir, and we shall ride first... To demonstrate for our young squires.\"

A slight blush across her face, Calenloth nods. \"I do understand, Sir.\" She smiles, her eyes widening at the sounds of the first challenge. Stepping back several paces to clear the paths for the horses, she again glances at Celondir, but turns to smile widely at Menelglir.

\"Quite the shield--and quite the project,\" Menelglir says, nodding with some approval as he eyes Calarion\'s shield. \"I have no objection to your carrying it here for this joust if Sir Celondir does not object.\" He glances toward the other knight and, seeing his reaction, nods again to the Squire. \"Carry on then-and good luck.\"

Calenloth\'s arrival draws a surprised smile from the Telpekhor--an expression he continues to hold as Celondir speaks, though his eyes twinkle briefly with amusement. He scratches at his neck, neath his armor, then but nods his head to Calenloth as he is challenged and she draws off.

\"As you say, Sir Celondir. I am honored.\" WIth that, he brings the visor of his helmet down and turns to ride off to begin.

\"I am sorry,\" murmurs Lominzil to Conalmir, dismounting and leading his horse to the side. \"You have regained your lunch, yes?\"

A glance the side displays Calarion\'s shield and Bragollach charge, and a grim smile twists his lips.

Conal follows Lominzil, sliding off his horse as well. \'Yes,\' he replies quietly, but looks over at the field where the two knights are preparing to joust. After a moment, still more quietly, \"... ... ... ... ... ... before - one ..., against a ... .... ... ... ... ... ... ... more ... just my lunch...\"

Still grinning, Calarion responds, \"My thanks, heraldry has always been a passion of mine. It was one of the reasons I was first attracted to the Order... I remember tourney time back in Dol Amroth...\" The Squire drifts off into pleasant memory for a moment before jerking back into the present. \"I would be honored to be allowed to wear it. I am very proud of my progress on it.\" He then turns to Calenloth, and bowing, greets her, \"Hello, my Lady, how do I find you this fine day?\"

As Menelglir rides off, Celondir touches his spurs to the side of his horse, and with light spray of mud and snow canters away from the gathering of Gondorians. Once the two are separated by nearly fifty yards, the Swan-Knight wheels his horse about, and reins the horse to a halt. \"Sir Menelglir, do honor to the one who inspires you this day!\" Celondir calls out loudly, and then hoists his lance up to salute Imrahil\'s standard. \"...And let us do honor to our good and worthy opponent!\" With that said, the Swan-Knight raises his lance up once more to salute Menelglir. \"On your guard... Lay on!\" He cries after giving Menelglir a moment to prepare.

In an instant, Celondir spurs his bay gelding into action, and the horse quickly gets up to speed. The Knight and horse move as one, as the pair hurtle towards Menelglir with must look like reckless speed. As Celondir closes on Menelglir, he lowers his lance, and then at the last moment thrusts for the other Knight\'s shield!

Although the fading light conceals the flush across her face from the unexpected compliment, Calenloth giggles softly to herself. A quick wave to Menelglir, her eyes twinkle as he scratches his neck and takes his lance.

She turns however at the sound of the voice, \'Calarion!\' She steps forward to greet the Squire, her voice low. \"I told her to watch. I think you should ask her for a favor.\" She smiles, conspiratorially.

A spear raised in salute to the Imrahil\'s standard, a spear saluted then to Sir Celondir--and then Menelglir is off, his brown mare thundering down toward his opponent, black and silver cloak flying behind him, clods of dirt kicked up by his horse\'s hooves.

Speared lowered with precise timing, Menelglir thrusts his lance toward Celondir in return.

Celondir and Menelglir charge each other down the fence...

...and both jousters strike home -- their lances cracking loudly, but remaining whole!

And both rides are struck from their horses, falling in separate heaps in the dust!

Right now, Cwen is standing off to the side. Her blue eyes..simply watching. Yet she smirks slightly as to two Knights fall. But that is all.

\"... ...,\" Lominzil says confidently, looking out across the wintry field. \"... wonder who ... ... challenge...\"

And, at the point of impact, he blinks.

Celondir\'s lance strikes Menelglir, but at that same instant the Telpekhor\'s own lance strikes Celondir with a world shifting force. In an instant, the Swan-Knight is driven from his horse, and hurled backwards onto the ground. The Telamarth lands ungracefully on his back in the snow, bounces once, and then rolls to a stop. For a moment he lies still on the ground, gathering his wits, before slowly drawing himself up to his feet. \"Sir Menelglir...\" He grunts, looking towards the other Swan-Knight. \"A tie I believe... If you wish to break it, we can, or you can choose to let it stand...\"

Calenloth turns again to the Squire, a look of worry replacing her smile, asking \"What... is customary? Am I go see if -he- is hurt? Or would one wait?\"

There is silence for a moment in reply from Menelglir, the explosion of lance against his shield having vaulted him backwards into the sand and snow while his horse continued racing ahead. The world swims dizzily for a moment before Menelglir manages to brace himself up a little on one elbow. \"If you please, Sir Celondir--let it stand?\"

\"Mmm,\" Conal grunts as both knights land heavily in the snow. \"I don\'t know. Calarion, I suppose? Each other?\" A corner of his mouth twitches. \"These bruises also will cause no suspicion...\"

Coming up beside Cwen is Leofric, her brother. The two speak quietly in Rohirric as if trying to make a decision. Leofric looks to the field a moment, pondering. Then returns to talk to his sister once more.

Celondir bows his head at Menelglir\'s request. \"As you wish it, Sir!\" The Swan-Knight calls out loudly, and raises his fist to his chest to salute Menelglir. With that said, he purses his lips, and lets out a shrill whistle -- the sound of which calls his horse back to him. The bay slowly, almost sheepishly, makes its way back over to its master, where Celondir takes ahold of the reins, and starts to walk towards the pair of Squires. \"Squire Calarion,\" the Swan-Knight calls out. \"You are up. Challenge one of your brothers!\"

\"You think?\" Calarion whispers to Calenloth, raising his eyebrows, \"Maybe... When is it customary to do so, and what should I say to her?\" A look of panic crosses Calarion\'s face momentarily. A glance up to see the result of the joust only increases the panic, he has forgotten to assist his Knight... Yet, as the situation resolves itself, his facial expression becomes calmer and he fulfills the challenge. \'Squire Conalmir, I do challenge you to a joust!\'

Menelglir is a bit slower in getting to his feet, doing so with a heavy sigh. He stands a moment to make sure he is steady, then salutes Celondir and makes his way off the field, retrieving his horse, which has stopped to graze. \"Well done, sir,\" he says as he nears Celondir.

\"You walk up to her -now- and ask her, before you joust!\" Calenloth urges Calarion. \"Tis the custom, is it not? Hurry!\" she insists.

But her attention is quickly drawn to the Knights exiting the field and she dashes towards one in particular.

Lominzil tilts his head, giving Conalmir a friendly shove. \"From what I heard, you remained seated against a Rider of Rohan. Surely you can face a brother Squire!\"

\"Otherwise, soup for dinner. It helps with bruises,\" Lomin adds, as a rueful afterthought.

Leofric and Cwen talk quietly between each other. Their attention given to the field every so often, to the Knights who depart it and to the squires who are about to go joust for themselves. Leofric turns away from his sister a moment going to talk to another bystander.

Conalmir\'s head jerks up at the sound of his name. \"Calarion,\" he says, dryly. He mounts up, gathering his reins, and heading towards the attendants, where he collects a lance. Settling it in his arm as Immin had told him the day before, he turns to see where his opponent is.

\"Well done too, sir...\" Celondir says with a nod of his head to Menelglir, as he turns about to watch the pair of Squires joust now. \"Fortunately, there was a nice layer of snow here to \'soften\' our fall.\" He notes with a quiet laugh, but his gray gaze looks intently towards the pair.

\"Thank you!\" Calarion mentions to Calenloth hurriedly before he rushes up to where Cwen stands with Leofric. Taking advantage of Leofric\'s distraction, Calarion approaches Cwen.

\"My lady,\" he says with a deep bow, \"I am about to joust. Tis customary that I obtain a favor from a lady... would you be so kind as to fulfill that wish.\" He blushes as he says this, but only slightly.

Still leading his horse by the reins, Menelglir intercepts Calenloth\'s path, pushing his visor up as he does so. \"Aye, yes, soft,\" he grins--answering Celondir but grinning to Calenloth. \"Now let us see how these two do. And..a favor?\" A glance to Calenloth--Menelglir wags a gloved finger at her. \"This must be your doing.\"

And then to Celondir again: \"Lominzil against the winner of this pair?\"

Conal - dressed in much the same thing as always (his uniform of a white squire) looks tidy (save for his unruly hair) and clean - nice, but not as splendid as the others. His leather armor has been buffed and oiled until it shines softly, and his shield likewise but he carries no favor, nor asks for one has no heraldry. He spies Calarion - chatting with the ladies - and moves into a slow trot towards the far end of the field. The other squire can take the near end.

Cwen seems..distant. Her thoughts elsewhere. Leofric remains busy but as Calarion approaches his sister, from afar he watches.

Tilting her head she considers this a moment in silence. Eyes drift over to the field and then back to the Squire.

\"I..\" she tries to think and frowns, \"Do not know if I have anything on me to be honest to give as a favor for this.\" hands move to search the pockets in her winter cloak and she pulls out a piece of leather that she had used to tie her hair. \"I have.. this, it is nothing fancy. I hope it will work for this.\" she goes to hand it over, with a slight smile.

\"My doing?\" Calenloth repeats, innocently. \"-I- have done nothing.\" She grins to Menelglir briefly, but cannot hide her distress, exclaiming, \"Are you hurt? That fall... please, tell me you are not hurt!\" She looks to his face earnestly, the rest of the joust currently forgotten.

\"Yes, I believe Lominzil against the winner would be splendid,\" the older Knight says with a nod of his head. He glances away from the squires to Menelglir and Calenloth -- watching in silence for a moment their interactions. In the end he says nothing, simply smiles broadly, and looks back to the squires -- waiting for them to joust.

Lominzil sits down again, watching, an arm wrapped absently about the lance leant against his shoulder.

\"My greatest thanks,\" Calarion says taking the leather tie, \"It will do perfectly!\" he smiles as he fastens it to his belt. \"Now, to the joust!\" He bows again and turns off towards his opponent.

He mounts his horse and takes up his shield, its newly polished surface shining brightly. After a moment of heavy silence, he jabs the sides of his steed with his spurs. His lance leveled and his visor lowered he charges on towards the elder Squire.

Menelglir turns distinctly red at that scrutiny from Celondir--then coughs and hastily says something low to Calenloth in reply. \"Bruised and for a moment stunned, but I give you my word that I am not hurt beyond that--or if I believe I am, I will go to the healers.\"

He looks back to the field--to Conalmir waiting and Calarion waiting for Cwen\'s favor. \'Having women on this journey has been...different. But...we have managed,\' he says to Celondir.

Conal has turned and is waiting. When he sees Calarion begin to ride towards him, he leans forward, bracing the lance as he was taught... yesterday... and urging his mount first into a slow canter, then faster.

Another slight smile to Calarion as he takes the favor and a bow of her head follows. She watches him dash off and it is then that her brother approaches her, whispering something. Cwen turns her head quick to Leofric - a threatening look on her face but he smirks as if he had purposely did it and steps back as if expecting to be hurt.

Calarion and Conalmir charge each other down the fence...

...and both jousters strike home -- their lances cracking loudly, but remaining whole!

Conalmir reels back in his saddle, but remains horsed!

\"Well done, well done!!\" Menelglir cries, suddenly energized again, banging his fist against his shield in approval at the first outcome.

\"Huzzah!\" Celondir cries out loudly here, thumping his hand against his shield as well. \"Again you two! I want to see broken lances, or riders on the ground!\" The Swan-Knight says in a deep and good natured voice -- obviously enjoying himself this evening. \"You two are training to be knights! So, I want to see knightly blows! Given and received!\"

Lominzil simply watches, expression of grim concentration undiluted by words.

Not disturbed in the slightest by contact with Conalmir\'s lance, Calarion pulls his reigns and raises his lance. The horse makes U-turn and slows, trotting back into position. Having again reached the starting point, Calarion again braces himself and lowers the lance. He pushes his spurs into the horse\'s side and once again begins the charge.

Conalmir is jolted backwards in his saddle, but he remains in a horse, and after a few moments, regains his balance. It takes him a moment more to resettle the lance, and readjust himself in the saddle. He glances over at the distant shouts before turning to meet Calarion\'s charge once more.

Calarion and Conalmir charge each other down the fence...

...and both jousters strike home -- their lances cracking loudly, but remaining whole!

Conalmir reels back in his saddle, but remains horsed!

Along with the other cheers Cwen and Leofric cheer as well. But they turn then to go and make their way to Cally and Menelglir. Leofric offering the pair a smile, Cwen, only offering a half smile. She still seems off.

This time Menelglir shouts approval, then speaks to Celondir, though he turns to greet Cwen and Leofric and also include them and Calenloth in the discussion. \"Not bad, given Conalmir has had no practice at all, save the other day. He wishes his career to be at sea, however.\"

\"Though, Sir Celondir, I am not certain this pair will break a lance...\"

Calenloth watches the flying splinters and winces at the cracks of impact. Wood against mail, cloths flapping and tearing. \"Tis a wonder you are not seriously hurt,\" she comments to Menelglir. \"Will you return to the field?\" Her voice hushed, she asks him, \"Why does Celondir smile at you so?\"

\"Cwen, Leofric,\" she greets the Rohirrim twins. \"I am glad you were able to join us tonight!\"

It takes Conalmir a little longer to regain his balance and breath this time but he does - and turns about, waiting at the end of the field a moment before grimly settling his lance once more and moving into a charge towards the other squire.

Calarion is not disturbed this time either, though he observes the decreasing balance of his opponent. Lowering his lance again and returning to the start position, he once again readies himself. He charges off towards Conalmir.

Calarion and Conalmir charge each other down the fence...

...and Conalmir\'s lance strikes Calarion -- but his lance remains unbroken!

Calarion is smote from his horse, falling hard to the dust!

\"Sir Celondir,\" Menelglir says quietly to Calenloth. \"I do not believe I will return to the field, for this is training, not a full tournament. And truly, there is a deep layer of sand, which cushions the blow ..though...ouch..\" he winces as Calarion falls. \"That will hurt.\" He pauses a moment to watch if the Squire gets up or not.

\"I think, Sir Celondir, that Conalmir has won this match? Pity he wishes to be at sea--that showed great promise.\"

Calarion\'s luck does not hold, however, this time, he is thrown from his horse. He hits the ground. Hard. After a long moment, he sits up slowly. He removes snow from his shield. He looks rather defeated.

He silently lifts his hand and lifts his visor to reveal his face. The Squire displays a wide grin. \"Good work, Conalmir!\" He says with glee, \"Ah, that wakes you up, doesn\'t it.\" He rises and brushes some snow from his tunic.

The last run is a blur - the lances crashing into shields, the horses thundering past each other. It isn\'t until Conalmir has passed the point of contact and regained his now-precarious balance and turned, that he realizes Calarion is not on his horse. He stares blankly at the other squire for a long, astonished moment, then rides towards him slowly. \"Good match,\" he says as the other stands up. \"You are unhurt?\"

Lominzil cants his head at the outcome of the tilt, puzzlement hid beneath the half-mask of his helmet. Removing said helmet, he walks slowly over to the Knight Celondir.

\"Sir,\" he begins carefully, \"I cannot be sure of the honor of challenging my brother Squire to another bout. We wrestled only today and I caused him a noticeable injury, and fear that in this bout I will threaten him more. Do you counsel me to continue, sir?\"

\"As much as I can reckon, I am fine.\" Calarion says, \"Though you, you look a little... unsettled. Is anything the matter?\" He frowns slightly and glances to Cwen. He says nothing, but looks down, a look of embarrassment on his face, \"That was in front of her wasn\'t it...\" he mutters to himself.

A cringe as she watches, a brow risen. \"How are you both?\" asks Cwen though she eyes Cally a moment. Leofric cringes, and hearing the slam Cwen turns her head to see Calarion falling to the ground with a thud. She too cringes at the fall, there is a look of concern on her face however and she watches the Squire get up, and upon doing so she cheers.

And, taking the moment as Lominzil speaks to Celondir, Menelglir leans over to Calenloth. \"I think that the good knight smiles at me so because he saw your concern for me,\" he smiles.

Celondir winces as well when Calarion falls -- taking his new shield and favor down with him. \"Great promise, and great courage... He was obviously outmatched by Calarion, but he continued to ride.\" The Swan-Knight says, nodding his head respectfully towards the pair of Squires. \"Calarion\'s form could still use a little work, but otherwise he did quite well.\"

As Lominzil approaches him, Celondir looks over to the squire, and nods his head. \"Conalmir is fit to ride, and as unhorsed his foe. Please, ride against him. We do not fight battles just when we are well, or unhurt. It will be good training for him, and for you...\" He says deeply.

Conal shakes his head. \"I am fine,\" he says. \"Surprised.\" He smiles a little. \"I expected it to be myself there on the ground.\" He nods to Calarion and turns to ride towards the onlookers, pushing his hair from his face. Closer, he glances at Celondir questioningly.

\"Me, ride again?\" Asks Calarion, turning his head slightly. He rises and takes back up his lance and glances around for his horse, which has not gone far. He retrieves his steed and then mounts it.

\"But this is a joust, sir, and not a battle,\" Lominzil replies, gesturing to the hoof-torn field. \"I fear ... if I cannot gauge my own strength, I may injure him in time of peace, when he may be needed for time of war.\"

\"Well what would he expect me to do?\" Calenloth asks Menelglir. \"Stand and cheer as you fall to the ground?\" She smirks, blinking to the Knight for a moment, but her lips quirk to a smile. \"I would not do so!\" she admits, laughing. \"Will Sir Celondir challenge the winner then?\"

\"He walks,\" she cries, relieved, as Calarion rises.

\"If you are fit, Calarion!\" Calls out Celondir to the White-Squire. \"I would see you tilt against, Squire Lominzil. Just remember to squeeze your knees tight to the horse, and try to use them to steer. Keep your lance vertical until the last few moments, it\'ll save the strength in your arm.\"

Cwen and Leofric have returned to whispering to each other in Rohirric - though they still keep an eye on the field.

Celondir turns back to look at Lominzil here, and the Swan-Knight\'s face grows more serious. \"Lominzil. You will learn to judge your strength in time. You may injure Conalmir, or he may injure you. It was a risk that you both took when you swore the oath to become Squires. Before I was Knighted I was wounded many times in battle, and in practice. It is how we learn.\" Celondir steps forward, and lays his hand on Lominzil\'s shoulder. \"I have faith in you, and know that you will learn how to use your strength. You can do this, and when you are done... We will talk more.\" The Knight says sincerely.

\"Yes, sir.\" Conalmir answers. \"I am fit.\" He listens to the knight\'s instructions with a wrinkle of concentration, then nods, though he says apologetically, \"I do not know if I can bring it down and brace it properly and aim if I leave it vertical so long, but I will try, sir.\" He is quiet, listening as Celondir speaks to Lominzil. Then he reins his mount around, giving his friend a grin. \"Just - not in the stomach again, please!\"

Lominzil looks toward the field. \"As you wish, sir,\" he replies, and grave and heavy-hearted, mounts his horse and trots to the field.

\"Sorry to keep you waiting,\" he calls.

In answer, Conalmir lifts his lance a little. Then he settles it carefully - vertically - but still does not begin his run. He is frowning a little, his face abstracted. But at last, he refocuses and kicks his horse into the charge.

Taking his horse off to the side-lines, Calarion dismounts and comes alongside Cwen. \"I am sorry, my lady, that you favored received sc dishonor.\" He says, blushing, \"Perhaps, next time I shall do better... lest you wish it returned to you.\" His face increases in its color, but he recovers and looks up, sending a despairing look to Calenloth and then looking to the joust.

Lominzil, as well, nudges the flanks of his mare, settling into a smooth canter with the lance held close to his side.

\"I should hope not,\" Menelglir grins at Calenloth. But in the next moment, he has fallen serious again as he notes Calarion\'s recovery and the conversation between Lominzil and Celondir.

Waiting until Lominzil has left to take the field, Menelglir steps forward and speaks to Celondir in a low tone. \"He said nearly the same to me as well, after a sparring match he had against Conalmir. He was ashamed he had hurt Squire Conalmir with a blow to the stomach. I wonder if this is what lies behind the black eyes?\"

Lominzil and Conalmir charge each other down the fence...

...and both jousters strike home -- their lances cracking loudly, but remaining whole!

Conalmir reels back in his saddle, but remains horsed!

No exploding lances, and no riders in the snow. Lominzil guides his horse to face the White Squire again.

Conalmir is visibly tiring, though he has managed to get his lance down and in position in time to aim it at Lominzil\'s shield - and actually hit - AND stay mounted. He turns once more, settling himself, before starting to ride forwards.

Lominzil and Conalmir charge each other down the fence...

...and Lominzil\'s lance strikes Conalmir -- but his lance remains unbroken!

Conalmir reels back in his saddle, but remains horsed!

Concern writ beneath the hard line of his mouth, Lominzil wheels about, unstuck this time, and charges again, a certain recklessness in the carriage of his reins and lance, and the canter of his horse.

This time, he is not so lucky. Conal takes a little too long to get his lance into position, and instead of hitting Lominzil\'s shield it wavers through the air past him - hitting nothing at all. And the terrific blow against his own shield rocks him back in his saddle again - so that he is slower still in returning to the charge. Nor does he ride with the abandon of the other man.

Celondir watches grimly from the side as the pair tilts against each other, and his fist clenches hard around the reins of his horse. The Swan-Knight is obviously concerned for the pair, and his gray eyes are filled with worry. \"You two are doing great! One more time, good squires!\" He cries out encouragingly.

Lominzil and Conalmir charge each other down the fence...

...and both jousters strike home -- Lominzil\'s lance exploding in a flurry of splinters!

Conalmir reels back in his saddle, but remains horsed!

An explosion of splinters sprays about Conal as he grimly rides this last run. Surprisingly, he also has managed to hit Lominzil\'s shield - though an off-center and sliding blow - and more surprisingly, he hasn\'t fallen off. Slowing, he turns to look for the other squire.

Lominzil circles warily back, looking for the other rider as well. In his hand is a short length of splintered wood. \"Well,\" he begins, uncertainly.

As the last tilt ends, Celondir thumps his fist against his chest. \"The victor is Lominzil, but Conalmir... You rode hard, and you rode well... Even when you were tired. Great job, the both of you!\" The Swan-Knight says leading his horse out towards the pair.

A grin, sweaty and weary, but true. \"Well.\" Conalmir rides up, reaching out to punch Lominzil lightly on the shoulder, before straightening at Celondir\'s approach. \"Thank you, sir,\" he says.

\"My thanks,\" answers Lominzil, more relieved than exhilarated. \"Conalmir, you were stuck to your seat! A skill you must have learned from balancing on ships?\"

Celondir chuckles now, all of the tension having gone out of his body, as he walks over to Lominzil here. He reaches his gloved hand out to pat the squire\'s leg, and then says simply, \"That is how you judge your strength.\" With that said, he takes a step back, and salutes the pair. \"Gentlemen, feel free to take your leave of the field, and enjoy the rest of the evening. It is yours to do with as you please.\"

\"It is my great skill in horsemanship...\" Conal\'s voice is heavy with humorous irony, before more seriously, he replies, \"I don\'t know. I never thought - I have never done this before yesterday. In truth, I expected to be on the ground e\'re a second run!\"

\"Thank you, sir,\" he says to the knight, a smile more open than his mostly are crossing his face. The unexpected luck of staying mounted, no doubt.

Lominzil nods to the Knight, returning his salute. \"There is still much I do not understand about this,\" he says quietly to Celondir, \"but perhaps another time. I bid you good evening, sir.\"

A bit belatedly, Conalmir also returns the Knight\'s salute.