Katrin was honestly not sure whether she should laugh, cry, or slap herself silly at the irony of it all. Unlike many of her fellow Faire performers, specifically the musicians, she harboured no great animosity toward the song. As she did with just about every song she played, she would play with twisting the melody and improving around it now and again. Even so, this was one she took pleasure in playing straight, one of a few quaint little Tudor numbers she had up her sleeves that most patrons could easily recognize as 'period'. In fact, though she was loath to admit it publicly in Faire company, she actually liked the song. She found it sweet and tender yet morbidly depressing all at the same time. Be that as it may, there were countless others she would rather play. Thus she never did play it except upon request, something done only a handful of times since she began playing the circuit.

At least, until today.

Everywhere she turned, during her scheduled gig times or not, someone would request to hear the song. She could not go two minutes into her half hour sets before someone would ask for it, and not ten minutes more before someone else would duplicate the request. Every time she turned a corner when wandering around, some patron or other would recognize her as a minstrel, likely due to the guitar slung across her back, and would plead for an impromptu performance right there. She was fairly certain the tavern wenches and half the merchants were starting to twitch whenever they saw her. By the end of the day, some of them had taken to enlisting the aid of her 'sworn protectors' to keep anyone from speaking to her at all. Then, after hours, when everything should have gone back to normal, it was the children and newbies wandering around who wanted to hear it.

The irony, of course, lay in the fact that this song was the very one Christoph caught her playing endlessly only a few nights before. It was also, admittedly, the same one she played for days on end all those years ago when she fell victim to what she termed as 'first crush syndrome'. No one knew what special significance this particular song held for Katrin and, since they never bothered to ask, she never bothered to tell them that it had none. It was simply one of the only songs she was able to play at the time. As the years went by, she would play it whenever she had a serious issue to consider. However, astute even in her younger days, she avoided playing it around her family knowing they would automatically associate it with the first time they heard it. Why she ended up playing it at home earlier that week she was not entirely sure. But after today's events, Katrin began to feel as though someone or something somewhere was playing a practical joke on her.

"And I am most certainly not amused," she grumbled.

"Amused at what?"

The unexpected voice came from behind a tree and Katrin barely restrained herself from jumping out of her garb in fright. Willing her breathing back to normal she peeked around the tree in question. Ector, for all that he appeared to have his hands full with a young peasant lass, peered back at her expectantly. Recovering, she responded, "Actually, it is not what I am amused at, but what I am not amused at."

"Oh," he paused. "Well, then not amused at what?"

Katrin suppressed a grin at the glint of impatience in the eyes of the wench. Ector, Ector, Ector. You need to work on your sense of timing. Aloud, she merely said, "At the number of times I have had to play that song today."

Ector looked confused. "That song?"

"Yes."

"Oh," he paused again. "What song?"

What song? You're kidding... "'Greensleeves', of course."

"That was you?" The wench looked at her with pity. "I heard about that, but I didn't think it was true. My sympathies."

This time, Katrin did not bother hiding her grin. "Gramercy."

"What's wrong with 'Greensleeves'?" The impatience returned to the wench's eyes as she sighed and looked at Ector, seeming ready to launch into a detailed explanation of the various evils of that particular composition.

Katrin decided this would be an opportune moment to retreat and continued on her way, waving over her shoulder at Ector's farewell.

In order to avoid running into any more people, Katrin took the back way to her tent. In doing so, it ended up taking fifteen more minutes than it should have. Finally, she was able to dump her instruments on her mat and zip the opening shut behind her. Reaching up, she turned on the small, battery operated, Coleman lantern hanging from the apex of the tent poles. It filled the tent with light and she began organizing everything in preparation for bed. Though she was not nearly ready to go to bed, she knew that when one returns from the after hours parties the last thing one wants to worry about is stepping on a bodice, bodkin, or bodhran. In fact, the only thought process one wants to have is something along the lines of: 'Unzip tent opening. Fall in tent. Zip tent opening from landing spot. Vaguely wonder if alarm is set for the morning. Sleep.' At least, so the theory went, though the reasons for it varied depending on the person. A great many would enjoy the fruit of the vine, juice of the barley, and wee pint upon pint just a bit too much. Others never really stopped working until long past everyone else finally went to bed. Then there were the people like Katrin who would end up playing, talking, telling stories, and laughing hysterically at various encampments until the fires died and even the noisy people would tell them to be quiet.

As she moved her bag, however, Katrin's gaze lit upon the large tome from the Goblins. What possessed her to bring it on site she could not even begin to guess. All she knew was that as she packed her bags she got a strong and insistent feeling that it should not be left behind at her apartment. She had long since learned from experience that such feelings should not be ignored as a general rule of precaution. I'm surprised it didn't want to be carted around all day, she thought sardonically as she stared at the tome where it lay nestled among her pillows.

All day, apart from the 'Greensleeves' dilemma, Katrin had been able to push into the back of her mind all her worries and concerns about the events that transpired over the past week. Yet, the longer she stared at the book, the more those thoughts came rushing back to the forefront. Suddenly she was no longer all that enthusiastic to join the rest of the revellers.

Instead, she reached out and traced the edge of the leather-bound volume. Kneeling before it, she looked down, eyes half-lidded. "Riddles and mysteries. Why don't you make this easy on all of us and just tell me your secrets, eh?" With a sigh, she flipped open the cover and turned to a random page near the center of the book. She looked closely at the markings and sketches. Nothing looked familiar. Nothing looked remotely informative. "Heh. Nothing. Now there's a shocker." With another sigh, she closed the tome and, snatching it up in her arms, she flung herself back on her pillows clasping the cumbersome thing to her chest.

Closing her eyes, she let her mind wander over everything that had happened, everything she had discovered... and everything she still had not even begun to understand.

She was not sure how long she lay there, attempting to make some sense of it all. But it was some time later when she was brought back to reality by the sound of people talking outside the tent, loud enough so that anyone a short distance away could hear. From the sound of it, they were trying to whisper but were just drunk enough to not realise they were failing at it. Miserably. "Do you think she's in there?"

"Well, sure. Where else would she be?"

"True, we looked everywhere else."

"So call her out, already."

"Right -- oh... what if she isn't in there by herself?"

"What do you mean?"

"You know, not alone."

"Yeah, so?"

"But, I mean, well, romantic like..."

There was a pause. And then an uncomfortable cough. She could have sworn she heard feet scuffing the earth. Then, "Yeah, like that would ever happen," and a few chuckles.

Hey now, Katrin thought indignantly. What, exactly, is that supposed to mean?

"Good point," the voices continued in their debate. "I'll just see if she's in there."

"Wait!"

"Now what?

"Well, maybe you should knock first. You know, just in case."

"Knock?"

"Yeah."

"On a tent?"

"Um... yeah?"

Another pause. "Oh. Well, I guess that makes sense."

One of the people outside her tent hit the wall a few times, shaking the whole thing violently. She looked up and watched her lantern sway. "You do realize that if my tent collapses in the slightest, I will come after you with a vengeance."

"I told you she was in there."

"Shut up. Hey, Kati, are you awake?"

She grinned. "If I say no, will you go away?"

There was a pause for the third time. "Um... no?"

"Well then, yes, I am awake."

"Excellent!"

Someone began opening her tent flap. She raised an eyebrow and was about to make a comment about the fact that she might not be decent when she heard some muttering something about double checking to make sure.

"Ok, fine. Are you alone, Kati?"

Her grin widened. "If I say no, will you go away?"

"Uh... s-sure..."

"Then no."

After a bit of sputtering and the sound of a great deal of scrambling, her tent was yanked wide open to reveal a Scot, a privateer, and a peasant, each with bare steel in hand, a Puritan brandishing a tankard, and a second peasant simply gazing to the sky with a pained expression on his face.

"Fiend!" exclaimed the privateer. "Take thy mangy hands off her, thou cur!

"Thou rogue!" added the Puritan.

"Thou rrrandy excuse fer a rrreal man!" put in the Scot.

The first peasant waved his dagger and, not to be outdone, began emphatically, "Thou... thou... uh..."

"Thou fine crew of blinking idiots?" suggested the unarmed peasant. At the incredulous looks his companions gave him, he shook his head. "As I suggested earlier, no one is in there except Katrin," he dryly informed them.

They looked at him. Then looked in the tent. Then looked more closely in the tent. Then looked at Katrin, who sat there fairly bursting from the strain of keeping her laughter in. She could see the mild embarrassment overcome the confusion as realization and understanding slowly hit home. "Lose something?" she asked, innocently, as each one of them averted his gaze.

The only one who met her eyes was the peasant who demonstrated capability of thought. "Aye," he responded. "Apparently you, actually. Everyone was wondering if you were planning on coming to the party and they were sent to fetch you."

"They? And you accompanied them as what, the designated walker?"

"I believe the idea was that I would be able to prevent irrational behaviour. Though I seem to have underestimated my capabilities against such staunch devotion."

She giggled. "Indeed."

"In any case, would the good lady care to be escorted to the party?"

Katrin rose. "After such an involved, eloquent, and drawn out invitation, how could I refuse?" I may as well. I still have yet to find anything resembling an answer to anything. Nothing beats a night leading to befuddlement to clear the head...

With her positive response, the other four men seemed to perk up. "Don't forget your instruments, Kati," said the Puritan.

"Yes!" agreed the privateer. "And when we get there, do you think you could play 'Greensleeves'?"

The second peasant emitted a groan that exuded incredulity while the others nodded eagerly. Katrin could do naught but laugh as she grabbed her fiddle, sealed her tent once more, and headed away from the camping area toward a night of music, dancing, and merry-making.