Who: Monte and Hamish What: Paying off a bet. When: 4 April 2000, Late afternoon (after work/practice, respectively) Where: An undisclosed temporary site in Snowdonia National Park, Wales Warnings: Terrible ideas. Reckless fun. No one gets injured. I'm still impressed.
The lead up to this great adventure had started with a horseback riding trip that went so poorly at first that it nearly ended in tears, but then something seemed to click and he wound up with a rather decent showing for Monte's first time riding. Now the experience continued, as Hamish apparated the both of them into the woods, where cheering and shouting could be heard in the distance.
"Right," he said, turning to look at Monte. "I don't think there's a law that makes this explicitly illegal but then again, I never bothered to find that out. Either way, this is nothing you've ever done before and that's what matters, right?"
He gave the other man a succinct nod and then led the way down the path, before pausing once more. "The location of this thing changes every time. So it's warded and charmed for secrecy and also uh… incident prevention. But I wouldn't rely on that too much with how they set up and tear down with a focus on efficiency rather than thoroughness…"
Then he added cheerfully, "Right then. Let's go!"
They left the woods and came into a clearing where stretched out before them was quite clearly a makeshift tiltyard. Except the current joust was taking place up in the air, and that's where Hamish turned to Monte and asked, "So, you can see those, yeah?"
There hadn't really been a less awkward way to do so prior to arriving at the thestral joust.
“Since second year,” Monte said, distracted by the sight of the winged skeletal creatures high above them. He was caught somewhere between disbelief and giddy expectation, and the resulting middle ground was tying his stomach in knots. “Saw a bloke get run over by a bus when I was seven. Never saw the point of saying anything about it to anyone at the time, even though it sticks with you. And no one at school ever said anything about the thestrals, so I figured it was just one of those things that Isla failed to mention.
“Hamish-" he finally turned to his mate, wearing his confusion like a shield- “what the bloody hell is this?”
"This, my friend," Hamish said, positively beaming, "is a makeshift tiltyard. We're going to joust on thestrals which fortunately you can see cause otherwise it's a huge disadvantage. Like my first time, all I saw was the rider not the steed. Or my steed. Totally bizarre, let me tell you."
He grinned at the other man standing next to him. "Don't worry, we'll use wooden lances."
As if that was the main concern.
Finally, his head settled on something, and Monte found himself laughing as he gazed up at the current combatants. “I can't even work out how this is your life, mate.”
He studied the grounds and the makeshift stands, including the tents at either end of the list. He couldn't keep the grin off his face. “Best tell me the rules, then, if we're going to make a proper show of this.”
Hamish nodded. Right. The rules.
"Rule number one. Don't fall off. We're doing the beginners run because you're in season and I don't wanna lose my job so all you're looking to do is disarm. The lance, not my arm. Rule number two. Don't fall off. Rule number three, don't fall off and did I mention don't fall off? These saddles are kinda charmed to make it extremely difficult so don't be that bloke."
Again, there were all sorts of charms and spells on the area but that set up, tear down rush didn't make him feel too confident about it.
He looked briefly up at the air, then pointed at the tent where only a small line had formed. After dark was when most people chose to joust but Hamish wasn't pushing even his own limits presently.
Turning to Monte, he added, "It's a good life, mate. I like it."
A smile of anticipation grew on Monte's face as Hamish went over the rules, replacing what was obviously a look of deep doubt. “Well, much like you, I make a career out of flying about on an extremely narrow piece of wood, and the horses weren't so bad.” He was just on the tip of saying something inane like what's the worst that could happen or I've got this, but that was just begging for trouble. Instead, he settled on: “I'll be careful. And I won't ‘be that bloke’.”
He looked up at the thestrals again, and some of the concern stole back across his face. Slowly, he looked back at Hamish. “How did you even find out about this?” And then he dropped his voice. “Is it safe for them? For the thestrals? They're not… They're not mistreated or anything, right?”
Hamish had said that it wasn't strictly illegal, but now Monte was wondering about the ethics of it all.
"Zeb loves his thestrals," Hamish assured Monte. "But if you want, we can go talk to him first. He's… peculiar. Otherwise, we get in line, give this a go a couple times, and I consider my bet paid off. As to how I found out about this? On a dare. How else?"
He gave the other man a sly grin and then nodded toward the line. "I've only done it a couple times myself. Once before I could see them, once after."
There was open, naked awe on Monte's face at Hamish's last little aside as he joined the queue. If Hamish trusted the bloke running this, he would trust Hamish. “You went riding on a thestral when you couldn't see it? Can't work out if you're the bravest soul I've ever met, or the most mental.”
Something occurred to him, and he chewed his lower lip thoughtfully. “It's not like Quid, is it? We can use our wands if necessary, right?”
"Reckless," Hamish replied. "I prefer reckless. Gryffindor trait, really. And yeah, you can use your wand if you need it."
The previous jousters were dismounting, and a new pair were already on a different set of thestrals, ready to go. "You know the basics, right? We ride each other, lances out, trying to knock them out of each other's hands and it's basically best of three."
The line queued up just far enough away that they could watch the jousts. It was quickly apparent that the beasts were far more accustomed to the sport than most of the riders, and they were doing the grunt of the work. No one was using real lances.
As the current pair met in the sky, they barely managed to connect and no one was disarmed. "Actually pretty boring, really," Hamish mused. "But it's fun when you're up there."
At some point, Monte’s mouth had become the perfect ‘o’ of astonishment as he continued to gaze skyward. “Aye, but wasn’t it even more terrifying when you couldn’t see them?” He tore his eyes away to look back at the tent. “D’you have to sign a waiver or something? What happens if you get hurt? Do they just drop you off at Mungo’s without saying how you got...whatever way?”
"Rule number… four was it?" Hamish replied. "Don't get hurt. There is a waiver, aye and I've not gotten hurt even when I couldn't see the thestrals so it's not that difficult. But if you wanna back out, now's the time," Hamish replied. "I wouldn't think less of you for it."
“No!” Monte said a little too quickly. “No, just trying to wrap my head around the logistics. Not getting hurt. Right up there.” He laughed, but it was a touch forced. He kept his voice low as he continued. “No sense in getting fired now that I’ve found a new home, yeah? Can you picture the paper? Uplift Upstanding Citizen Injured in Dubious Thestral Jousting Tournament, subtitled, Not So Uplifting Now, Is He? Maybe There’s Something to Flint’s ‘Unhinged’ Remarks’.”
Hamish just laughed at Monte, shaking his head. "Mate, you're gonna be fine."
***
While the first two runs weren't unmitigated disasters, they also weren't the most thrilling or coordinated feats of jousting prowess ever beheld. At least Monte hadn't dropped his lance. Or the shield. Or fallen.
Don't get hurt.
He patted down the cool, sleek side of his thestral’s neck. “C’mon, Thanatos. Last time, let's show him what we can do, yeah?”
Wheeling the beast around, Monte readied his lance, dug his thighs in tight, and brought his shield in tight. He waited for the signal- a small shower of bright sparks in the middle of the field- and then they surged toward Hamish on his steed, a cry of challenge and joy leaving Monte’s throat without much conscious thought.
The first two runs had ended in draws, as neither he nor Monte had managed to disarm each other. Really, Hamish thought, this had been more exciting last time he had gone. He wasn't complaining about there not being injuries, however.
Readying his steed, Wick, (not short for Wicked, Hamish had asked and this beast was anything but at any rate,) he waited for the signal and then began his run. "Steady now," he said, as they approached, his grip tightening on the lance. They had this.
In the handful of seconds it took for them to meet in the middle of the sky-bound list, Monte had to make about a dozen corrections to his stance in the saddle and his grip on the lance. Aim for the centre. Aim for the centre. Aim for the centre. He became singularly focused on that spot on Hamish’s shield as it rushed closer. The end started to dip low, would have caught Hamish solidly in the side (or worse), but Monte managed to bring it back up at the last possible instant.
It hit hard enough that the vibration traveled up his arm and rattled his teeth. Hamish’s lance hit his shield head on, but he managed to turn it so that the tip slid off. His lance, however, decided that it would be much happier living its life as a pile of kindling, and seemed to explode so as to reach the nirvana of its existence. The thestral’s momentum carried him through the sudden cloud of splinters and wood debris; only the shield thrown up to cover his face and a quick thinking Protego charm kept him (and his steed) from the worst of it.
He managed to get the thestral to a somewhat vexed stop at the end of the list, but rather than be upset by the turn of events, he was laughing hard. “Did you see that?” He turned in his saddle to find Hamish. “That was fucking brilliant!”
Hamish was already passing Monte when the other man's lance all but blew up, and he had no idea what actually happened. One minute they were jousting, the next minute the lance was no more. He and Wick landed then immediately started back the other direction, where he found Monte laughing.
"Sorta, what the hell happened there?" Hamish asked. "And does that mean I won?"
But his attention quickly turned to the lanky, older wizard shuffling toward them and he cautioned, "Oh, that's Zeb… He doesn't like it when things go awry."
The laughter died in his throat, especially with the dark look the other man was shooting the pair of them. “I have no idea what happened up there,” Monte said quickly, trying to head off whatever this was about to be. “Guess I managed to hit the shield just right, or it was compound stress, maybe?”
"Bizarre, is what it was," Hamish replied, then greeted the older man cheerfully.
The conversation didn't last long, as both the thestrals were fine which was Zeb's main concern, but Hamish and Monte were definitely done for the day. Hamish couldn't help looking at his mate and laughing. "I take you thestral jousting one time and you almost get banned for life," he said, slightly in awe. "Impressive, mate."
Monte was torn between mortification and the hyper buzz of adrenaline, but he did manage to restrain his grin until the proprietor had walked away and was out of earshot. “Pints!” he cried out, then, grabbing Hamish’s arm. “I need pints! On me! Did you see that? I just did that!” He laughed, bright and free. “I think Justin might hex me when he finds out about this. Worth it.”