~*~
She brought him to a musical performance first. A low stage sat in the middle of a clear, grassy area, and a small crowd gathered around. A man dressed in a black and white checkered tunic stood in the half circle formed by people seated on the ground waiting for the show. The costumed narrator announced the musicians just as Donald and Millie found a place to stand. Kwestor hovered silently behind them. Millie’s father excused himself to go see the waterwheel exhibit, and the rest of her family left for a puppet show. Muce wandered off by himself. Donald assumed he went to sample the available cuisine.
A quartet consisting of three string players with instruments of different types and a percussionist took their places on stage amidst polite applause. The string players were all tallfolk but a stoutfolk man played the drums.
They began their set with some popular folk songs and then segued into a rousing jig. People in the audience began clapping in time and dancing with enthusiasm if not a lot of skill. Millie encouraged Donald to join in, pulling on his arms and teasing him, but he feared he would embarrass himself in front of her and declined. She called him a poop, kissed him on the cheek, and then stood next to him with her arm around his waist, tapping her foot to the music.
Donald watched the dancers, trying not to show any sign of being aware of the arm around him, which he could not stop thinking about. Should he put his arm around her? Should he try to hold her hand or kiss her on the cheek? What would the gentlemanly thing be? What would the regal thing be? What would the sexy thing be? Standing a bit too stiffly and sweating in the crisp pre-autumn morning breeze seemed about all he could manage.
His course of action decided, he relaxed a little and began enjoying the festival atmosphere. He even started tapping his own foot more or less in time with the music.
He never saw so many stoutfolk in one place before, which, he concluded, made sense since they were on the border of the stoutfolk kingdom.
“Let’s go see some other stuff,” Millie said suddenly.
Her statement drew Donald’s attention to the fact the band no longer played and that the musicians were packing away their instruments. She took his hand, and he let her drag him away without resistance. Kwestor followed at a discreet distance.
They made their way toward the river together, meandering through crowds of people of mixed heights, past exhibits, a dunk tank, and booths selling various types of food, often fried and impaled on sticks. Donald could not help imaging what a war between Westgrove and Gotrox would mean to a border community like this, and despite Millie’s obvious charms, he decided they must leave in the morning. He had a duty.
Chapter Eleven