I am happy to see a fellow Irish make his way to my tent, and he doesn't even need a bit of healing. Here comes MacMorna the Bard! Even after his adventurous journey as a Viking, he is still in his usual hale and hearty self. And he has picked up a little companion along the way, a sweet gray fur-ball of a kitten, which he leaves in my care while he fetches something to eat from the Big Beer Tent. While he is gone, I wrap some catnip in a bundle and tie it to a long string for the kitty's amusement. By the time he returns with a heaping platter and brimming mug of brew, she is happily romping among my wares, a tiny panther on the prowl.

"Ah! Mac, this is enough for five people!" I exclaim, eyeing the delectable trencher of steaming meat. "I will definitely need some help with this..."

The bard doesn't need to be begged. He must be starving after the Viking Race - and I happen to have a skin of mead that I received in trade for a love charm or two. Mac's face lights up when I bring out the mead.

"Slainte!" We drink a health to each other and proceed to dine in simple splendor, feeding morsels to the kitten as we work our way through our feast.