The day of the Cotton Drifting Festival has arrived. Early in the morning house elves were outside helping Rika set up. Around noon the construction comes to an end and the house elves left so that the festival may start. When participants to the festival arrive they will see a boundary line of flags posted around within sight of each other, this
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In the tale that is told of Beowulf, it is not said what his battle cry might have been, only that he had one, and that he issued that cry before the lair of the dragon. Knowing what we know of Beowulf, we may fairly conjecture that it was this:
"BEOWULF!!!"
Which he bellowed, and charged about looking for someone who was not a little girl, at whom he might throw his watery missiles.
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Like Beowulf, she was not willing to throw water baloons at children. Grown adult men dressed as ridiculously as the geat was and crying out battle cries were another thing entirely.
She sprinted after the geat, water baloons in hand, and, with a battle cry of her own, rushed forward and threw, with considerable strength, one of her baloons at his head. This was... surprisingly fun, she decided.
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Her water balloon hit Beowulf squarely in the forehead, soaking the Gryffindor tie he habitually cinched about his brow. "AAAAGH! THAT BLOW SHALL BE REQUITED!" Tarvu did command that everyone should be nice to one another, but he never ruled out aquatic warfare, be it in water or using water.
The makeshift sling full of water balloons did hamper his movement, so no crazy backflips were possible. He was, however, capable of running with surprising swiftness for one so muscle-bound, and he made a long loop around to avoid more of Brienne's missiles, then lobbed two balloons in succession at the wench's heart.
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Since she couldn't improvise a sling at the moment, she settled for the next best idea, and levitated several of the baloons from the nearest bucket, then resumed her chase.
When she saw him, she sprinted past him, turned and began running backwards, calling, "Look out behind you!"
She didn't know if he would fall for such an obvious ploy, but if he did, she was going to lob two of her own baloons at him.
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Ouch. Two balloons hit him.
He roared. "AN UNWARLIKE SUBTERFUGE! BE WARNED, FOR I WILL HOLD NOTHING BACK NOW!"
Toward the warrior-maid he charged, grabbing balloons from his sling and throwing them straight at her as he ran.
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And barrelled into Brienne, smashing water balloons between them, and trying his level best to headbutt her.
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If it was a victory, it was a Pyrrhic one, not that Beowulf would have the first clue what that meant. "NO MORE," he shouted. "I SHALL NOT GRAPPLE IN UNSEEMLY FASHION WITH A WARRIOR. IF YOU WISH TO BATTLE ME, ARISE!" He was following his own advice, struggling to his hands and knees.
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"Would you consider delaying a second round for the moment?" she asked, struggling to sit up. "Running around in this heat has made me parched. I would see if there are drinks to be had that do not come in a baloon."
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The creature, noting her companion was Beowulf, opted to give them the whole pitcher and the plate of cookies, bowing obsequiously and scampering off.
Brienne took the tray, finally managing to gain her feet. "I hope this will do," she said. "This is certainly not mead, but it looks refreshing."
Setting everything on a nearby table, she poured drinks for both of them, offering one to her companion. "To battles fairly won!" she said, raising her own glass in a toast.
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Double-Stuf Oreos he viewed with curiosity. "EXPLAIN THESE," he demanded, either of Brienne or any house elves who happened to be in the vicinity. It seemed that Twitter was wrong, and cookies did indeed require justification.
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She broke the cookie apart then and proceeded to slowly run her tongue over the frosted part, licking the frosting before eating the actual cookie. Because apparently cookies could be justified by the mun being forced to write extremely not hot food porn.
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Immediately he flung both halves away.
"IT IS LIKE BEAR GREASE, LACED WITH THE YIELD OF A THOUSAND BEES!"
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