Once Upon a Faire {Excerpt}

Chapter 1

There isn't much worse than sweating next to a rack of rotisserie turkey legs at seven in the morning, but that's life working at a Renaissance Faire. I push my hair from my forehead to keep it from sticking and lean out over the counter to see if I can spot Cat Page milling about on the street — or rather Joan Strangeways. Until the last guest heads out the gates of The Shire, Cat will be in character trying to earn tips.

Just a few feet away from the roasters, I catch a caress of the coolness of the May morning on my face. Across the path, a woman in a very tight corset at the door to the Blackfryr's Pub slips a cell phone down the front of her dress inconspicuously as one of the Great Midwestern Renaissance Faire organizers rounds the corner.

A walkie chirps from the back of the stall where guests won't see and it won't break the illusion that this really is a 16th century English hamlet. "Gates open in ten."

I slip my own phone into the leather pouch that hangs from my belt next to my sewing kit. A low whine carries through the woods as a bagpiper starts up their tune. My pulse races as I remember the feeling of seeing the first patrons skip down the streets of the shire. Kid's faces will light up at the sight of jugglers and princesses and real, live pirates. That is why I love this place. It's home — even the turkey smell.

The walkie beeps again, but this time it's for me.

"Morwen!" The voice is laced with panic. "Morwen, come in! Over."

I duck out the back of the stall and grab the handset out of view. "It's Morwen. What's going on? Over."

"It's mom. Costume emergency in the Queen's Garden. Some idiot thought fabric glue would hold trim onto a bodice. Over."

My pulse races all over again. Trim isn't easy to fix, but with cars lining up for miles to get in, it can't wait — not for a member of the Queen's Court either. They're the opening act.

"I'm coming. Send a floater to watch the Fiesty Friar until I get back."

The paths of the shire wind in and out of the woods to divide the faire into sections for patrons to explore, but I know the way to the Queen's Garden — I've run these little streets since I could walk. In fact, I've never not known a summer at this place. It's my parent's and they're the ones who built it from the ground up when my mom decided she didn't want to be a corporate accountant and my dad was tired of being an acquisition and mergers lawyer.

The Queen's Garden is my favorite place in all the Shire. It's a maze of rosebushes with a beautiful white gazebo in the center and you have to cross a little footbridge over a babbling brook to get to it. Lots of Rennies get married there and it's pretty easy to see why.

A crowd of ladies in their finest renaissance attire gather together in the gazebo, and when I arrive, they part to make room. Like me, my mom is dressed in a homespun gown. We're not part of the King's Players so we try to blend in with the illusion of the village. We don't stand out as the main performers. Mom still looks remarkable pretty with her wild, brown curls braided and pinned to the nape of her neck. With her hair away from her pale face, it allows her blue eyes to shine all the brighter. She never wears much makeup on faire days though she doesn't need it anyways.

"Morwen." Gwenevere Hall peels off from the group and rushes to grab me by the arm. "Oh please, you must assist me for I am in dire need of your skill." She gestures to the loose trim on her bodice.

I tamp down an eye-roll at the obscenely overdramatic character she has decided to play. The faire doesn't have the budget to supply costumes to every single player and employee who works the stalls. Most people who work the faire are in charge of their own costumes from start to finish. It works to varying degrees of success. That's why faire organizers like my mom walk the streets of the shire and make sure everyone is properly dressed without too many anachronisms. Gwenevere's trim is entirely wrong for the 16th century, but only the pickiest of patrons would notice and, though I wouldn't tell her as much, Gwenevere's Basic Faire Accent needs work before she's given a bigger role in the court.