She had known she'd found a prince, but when the guy behind the table recited an entire name, she realized her prince was not only a prince, but named after one, carrying crest and all. That explained the symbol, the colors, all of it. Sir Gawain was named after a Sir Gawain. Hm, She considered, standing a short ways back from him as he finished signing himself up. Must be something famous. Who knows. Probably a knight of the round. King Arthur's knights were definitely the most famous knight of all. That bit of amateur sleuthing concluded, she turned her attention back to the prince.

She was just in time for him to take her hand. Amelia smirked, following his lead. "Knight of the Round Table?" She guessed. "They really knew that name."

She wondered what he had in mind to kill the time before her show.

>>"Knight of the Round Table? They really knew that name."

Gawain smirked.

"They knew the sigil" he tapped the star on his chest "They always have someone who knows heraldry."

With that said, he walked down the hill with the lady.

"I was named after Sir Gawain. He is one of the most famous of the Round Table. He also happens to be Arthur's nephew." he told her as they walked past tents and people "I just kind of picked up the story as I grew up. There are quite a few tales about him."

And quite a few damsels. She did not need to know that.

"Quite a few damsels too, I'll bet." Amelia chimed in with a smile, practically reading his mind. "Cool name. Me." She pressed a finger to her chest. "I'm named after the pilot, Amelia Earhart. Fun story about that," she mused. "Always thought it was spelled 'Airheart'. You know. Phonetically. Because fate cannot make enough puns."

Up ahead, a smattering of people were gathered in broken groups. The archers were separate from the groups. They were given plenty of room. Dressed in fine gear, like archers of olde (or Robin Hood), they struck a charming example for the squires and stableboys.

Amelia pointed. "Up ahead."

>>"Quite a few damsels too, I'll bet."

Damn, she reads minds. Gawain arched an eyebrow. She had a mutant father. Did she have some skills she forgot to mention?...

>> "Cool name. Me. I'm named after the pilot, Amelia Earhart. Fun story about that. Always thought it was spelled 'Airheart'. You know. Phonetically. Because fate cannot make enough puns."

"Actually, I thought that too" the young knight chuckled "A notable lady indeed. Suits you."

It really did. If anyone could be imagined flying the X-jet, it was Ami.

>>"Up ahead."

Gawain nodded. People were already gathering for the competition. There were quite a few Robin Hoods present, as usual, with the occasional Wilhelm Tell, and a few elves. The targets were being set up by squires, and there was even a barrel of apples waiting nearby. Gawain smirked and shook his head.

"I'm going to need to borrow a bow and arrows" he nodded towards the judges' table where such things could be acquired if someone arrived without their own "My gear is all modern, had to leave it at home. I'll be right back."

A short trip to the desk later, Sir Gawain returned with a longbow and a quiver full of grey-feathered arrows. Pulling the gloves free from his belt, he put them on; they turned out to be archery gloves made of soft leather. He looked up at Amelia.

"So, my lady. What am I competing for?"

>>"Actually, I thought that too" the young knight chuckled "A notable lady indeed. Suits you."

Amelia smiled.

~*~

The girl waited as the good knight went to borrow his gear. He came back with some real nice traditional-looking stuff. She approved.

>>"So, my lady. What am I competing for?" Gawain asked.

This was the part in most movies where the girl dropped something corny, like 'My heart' or 'a kiss'. Both would be cool and all, but kissing a guy on the second date? That was a little fast, unless it was a peck on the cheek. Which he'd already received on date one. Maybe he'd get a real one, come date three.

Amelia shook her head with a chuckle and gave him his answer. "For to impress me." She said. "And pretend that was proper English, too."

>>"For to impress me. And pretend that was proper English, too."

Gawain almost pouted. But real knights don't pout. So he just clicked his tongue, and kept the answer to himself. Impress her, huh. He had to give it to Ami, she did not swoon easily. That made it kind of a challenge. Knights liked challenge.
Besides, he had the whole day ahead. And the evening. With a dance.

"Prepare to be impressed" he smirked, thus accepting the quest.

Most of the archers did not look like much of a competition. Neither did the elves. Elves looked very graceful with a bow, and were supposed to have great sight, but fake elves just looked silly. And then there was that one guy that looked like he knew how to use a bow. Wearing Viking clothing, he even looked the part, with long blonde hair and ice blue eyes. A smile played on Gawain's lips as he looked around. This was going to be fun.

"Preparing," Amelia said. "With that, I shall take my leave of you momentarily."

Taking a step back, she retreated to the watching area to blend in with the crowd. She didn't wish him luck or any of that, for that would have been oddly self-serving.

Time passed. The competition began.

Gawain winked as she retreated behind the line of safety; archers had already started lining up in front of the targets. There were a series of marks on the ground in the form of sticks with ribbons of different colors on them. The judges walked up and down along the line, making sure everyone stood in the right place, while others made sure no one stood anywhere but behind the competitors.

The rules were very simple; the competition was going to be three rounds, distance, speed, and aim. This first one was distance; after every shot, the archers moved back ten feet to the next mark, and anyone who failed to hit the red circle inside the target was out. The farther away they went, the more people fell out of the competition, until only one was left.

Gawain greatly enjoyed the whole thing. He was used to a much stronger and lighter bow; but these targets were not moving, like the ones in the Danger Room. He pulled on the string to adjust his arms to the strength of the bow. And then the competition began.

Everyone made the first shot; they were very close, you had to be practically blind to miss. One guy missed the next one; Gawain's arrow hit right next to the first. Another ten feet later another guy fell out; apart from Gawain, quite a few people kept hitting the bullseye.
Farther and farther away they went; more and more people has to step out of the line. By the time they got to tow hundred feet, and the last mark, only two of them remained: Gawain, and the man in the Viking costume. The first part of the competition ended in a draw.

From her vantage point on a borrowed folding chair, Amelia watched, snack-in-hand, as Gawain thoroughly trounced the majority of his competition. The kid had chops. He hadn't just been bragging. It was always nice when people actually had skills to back up those words they were throwing around.

Amelia took a dainty bite of her roasted turkey leg. Her gigantic, slightly greasy, delicious roasted turkey leg. It hadn't come with any flavorings except itself. The renaissance fair certainly had interesting cuisine. It wasn't half bad, either. She tore another hunk off, to display this thought.

C'mon Gawain, win. She mentally cheered him on. And imagined herself swatting away the competition's arrows with a flathanded palm strike!

She had no bias, really! It was just that she wanted Gawain to win...

The first round was over. He had nailed it. It would have been more impressive if Erik the Viking had not been so damn good, but at least he did not lose. And he had two more rounds to defeat the Northman.

Second round: speed. People once again lined up in front of the targets; arrows were collected, quivers were filled. The next task was quick and simple: one minute, fifty arrows. The more you could plant in the target the more points you got. The closer to the bullseye the better.

Gawain stuck the arrows into the ground in front if him in a neat row; they he took another bunch of them and held them to the bow with his left. Speed competitions were won or lost by the technique of reloading the bow...

While waiting for the signal, he took some time to steal a glance towards the people gathering behind the lines. He spotted Lady Amelia; she seemed content, sitting in a chair munching on what looked like half an ox. So, she'd managed to locate food. Smart girl. Gawain grinned.

One and a half minute later, after planting twenty arrows into the target in a neat tight bundle of feathers and splinters, the young knight walked over to the fence, leaving the cleaning up and counting to the squires.

"Haveing fun so far, my lady? Save some of that for me, will ya?"

And with that, he was off to the last round of the competition. Aim.

They did not have that barrel of apples for nothing. Of course nobody was going to stand at the target with an apple on their head, that would have been ridiculous, not to mention suicidal, with so many amateurs behind the bows.

Someone standing to the side and tossing apples into the air, however, was completely safe.
And harder than it looked. Not tossing them; shooting them.

Out of a barreful of apples, only a precious few got hit. The Viking got the one; Gawain got one; they hit one together, and splinters of arrows flew everywhere. After that, it was one here and there, until they ran out of apples, and Gawain had hit a total of seven.

Now, it was only a matter of adding up the numbers.

With an apple stuck on an arrow, Gawain walked back to his lady to wait.

"That's about it." he smirked, taking a bite out of the apple "Have I succeeeded in impressing you, m'lady?"

>>"Haveing fun so far, my lady? Save some of that for me, will ya?"

Urp. She froze in her eating. The thing was already over half-gone. Couldn't he have told her sooner? Oh well. She hoped he wouldn't mind scraps!

"Yeah, sure. No prob," she laughed weakly.

She was such a pig.

Amelia set the remnants of the meal aside for Gawain on a tiny plate and watched the final competition. Aim.

Out of all the people, only two seemed capable of owning their apples. They even seemed capable of owning each others apple. Sharing? No. She imagined a death glare and crackling lightning between the two as arrows shattered in a spray of splinters.

This competition was intense.

Apple, apple, apple, apple... a few more apples flew and were skewered. As Amelia watched, she clenched a fist and held in a cheer.

Gawain returned, shooting job done.

>>"That's about it." he smirked, taking a bite out of his apple "Have I succeeeded in impressing you, m'lady?"

Amelia chuckled with a small shake of her head. "Have the competition winnings been announced?" She asked. She waited a second, then added. "Kidding. You are most impressive, my Knight." She laid the olde world charm on thick. Then she arched an eyebrow. "Though I am interested in seeing those scores..."

>>"Have the competition winnings been announced? Kidding. You are most impressive, my Knight. Though I am interested in seeing those scores..."

"It's all about the winning, not the participation, right?" Gawain smirked shaking his head. She really was a minx. At least she could have appreciated the apples. That was kinda cool. She had to admit that.

But nope. They had to wait for the scores.

If Erik comes in first, I'm gonna shoot him too.

"Scores should not take too long" he said, finishing the apple in a few bites "I think it was pretty obvious."

And it really was. It only took fifteen minutes before one of the judges stood up, and people gathered to hear the results of the competition.

Robin Hood number 4 was third. He could be told apart from the rest of the green crowd by being a woman. Good for her.

By the time they announced Erik as second (his real name was James, but who cares), Gawain was shamelessly grinning.

"Sir Gawain of Orkney."

Cheers, shouts, whistles. A scroll and a medallion made of gold. Or at least some gold-colored material. Also, an arrow painted gold. A cold, short nod from the Viking. Victory.

>>"It's all about the winning, not the participation, right?"

Amelia chuckled and nodded.

"Roasted leg?" She offered the remnants of her meal as he wrapped up that apple of his.

Fifteen minutes later...

Gawain went up on stage and received his prizes. A nifty medal, a cool arrow, approval from generally all, and... was that it? Nope.

Amelia whistled and cheered. "You go, Gawain" She said, through cupped hands. She waited for him to come back down, then bounced up and stole his arm.

"So," She said thoughtfully. "Where to, next?" It still wasn't dance time, was it? Nope.

>>"You go, Gawain!"

The young knight grinned. Oh, she was impressed. Even if she would only half admit it, he was sure she had not seen many real life archers this good, winning a contest. He laughed when he heard her voice, and once he walked off the stage, he offered his arm to her.

>>"So,Where to, next?"

"Wherever you'd like" he smiled "But I am warning you, I am not going to sign up for jousting..."

As they started to walk away, Gawain stopped and shook his head.

"Geez. I gotta return the gear. I'll be right back."

Amelia relinquished her grip on his arm reluctantly. "Okay," she said. With a sigh, she watched him go, and begun the painful process of waiting for him to get back.

It was a very painful process, waiting. And to make it even more painful, some decided on his own that she would need company. The viking, Erik, with the long hair and blue eyes approached.

"Hey," he said. His voice was like silk. Tacky in great quantities, but alright sometimes. Good for bed sheets, some might say. Amelia didn't. "I heard you cheering. Pity." He crossed his arms with a smug smile.

"Pity?" Amelia repeated, querulously. She got the feeling he was saying something here.

"Pity," he concluded. "You were cheering for the wrong guy."

As usual, her suspicions proved to be right. Amelia arched an eyebrow. "Nope. Think I got the right one."

"I'm much more of a man than Orkney," Erik chuckled.

"How old are you again?" Amelia asked. "Because you look a bit old..." She made a disgusted face. Man or nothing, he actually seemed old. Age usually wasn't a big deal, but this guy... with this guy, the age card made this whole thing creepy. And his hair? Long hair on a guy was not attractive to her. Maybe it would have been to someone who was into classic rock, who loved the tight-pants-wearing rockers, but... eh. "Gawain is way better than you. So just leave me alone. Seriously. Before I call the cops."

"You hag!" Erik sneered.

Amelia scoffed. "Pedophile."