Welcome back, ye lords and ladies! Marry, 'tis a fine day for a faire! Huzzah! Thank ye for coming out and supporting live folk art! Especially thanks to ye who donated during the intermission. Now gather ye round, good lords and ladies, and listen well to this, the second chapter of our story!

Once upon a time, a starship captain was lurching around like a fool. He annoyed all passersby, both casual renfair visitors and dedicated own-their-own-bodices rennies. He forced his way into group photos, he danced through crowds calling for Spock, he asked glassblowers and hobbyist weavers inane questions about their replicators. Through it all, his friends the two princes gritted their teeth and endured, politely asking the starship captain to tone it down and, on occasion, apologizing for him to the their fellow renfair-attendees.

Eventually the starship captain began to speculate, loudly and apropos of nothing, that he was probably on the holodeck. It was not until he began to bellow, loudly and repeatedly, for the computer to end the program, that the two princes finally snapped.


"Dammit Pierce! That doesn't even make sense!" cried Troy.

Abed wailed for a moment, which attracted at least as much attention as Pierce's carryings-on. Then he went slack and sat down cross-legged in the dirt. "You're dressed as a TOS-era Starfleet captain. The holodeck wasn't popularized until the TNG-era, decades later. Decades!" Abed practically spat the last word.

"Fellas, fellas, what's the big deal?" Pierce asked, still grinning.

"You're ruining costume time!" shouted Troy. "You come in, with your stupid Star Trek clothes and your stupid fake communicator and your stupid fake phaser…" He threw his plastic sword onto the grass petulantly. "That's not what we're doing, man!"

Pierce swallowed. "Well," he began, "I don't have to have the phaser…"

"Get out of here! We don't want to play with you! You're ruining it!"

"I… fine." Pierce raised his hands in surrender. "Sorry."

As he slowly walked away, Troy turned to Abed, still sitting on the ground. Abed was rocking back and forth, his eyes screwed shut.

"It's okay, buddy," Troy told him. "He's gone."

Abed stopped rocking. "Good." He sprang to his feet. "Do we still have time to do the Sherwood Forest duel, or do you need to go have sex with your girlfriend?"

Troy blinked in confusion as Abed checked the time on his phone. "I'm not going anywhere, buddy, what are you…"

"The last four times we've done bits that lasted more than ninety minutes, you ended them prematurely citing a preexisting commitment with Britta. On two of the four occasions, Britta expressed surprise when you contacted her, indicating that no preexisting plans had in fact been made," Abed declared. "You just wanted to fool around with her. Pierce was keeping us from actually doing anything for over an hour, so, how much longer until you ditch me?"

"Buddy, I'm not going to ditch you!"

Abed nodded solemnly. "I know you think that, Troy, but you are, and it's okay. This is how it is. The hero," Abed pointed at Troy, "and his wacky friend," Abed pointed at himself, "are initially inseparable, but over time they grow apart as the boy meets girl, loses girl, gets girl. Eventually you're going to turn to me, and I'm going to look at you and put my hand on your shoulder and say 'go get her,' and you'll nod, and then you'll leave and I'll never see you again."

"I came back from AC Repair school for you!"

"For me and for Britta," corrected Abed. "If Britta had a wacky best friend of her own that I could hook up with that'd be one thing, but the only option there is Annie and frankly there's nothing there when I'm not pretending to be Jeff, plus he would run me over in his car."

"He wouldn't…"

"I've run the scenarios. But that's fine. I've accepted this."

Troy shook his head. "Just because it happens like that on television doesn't mean…"

"Not just television," Abed said. "Film, literature, opera. The only alternative to the two of us drifting apart is if we become lovers ourselves. I can't deny I've considered that, but I don't think it would work out in the long run as we both like women too much."

"Abed," Troy said desperately, "just because I'm seeing Britta doesn't mean anything has to change!"

"It does, though." Abed's tone was flat. "Everything changes. People graduate. People move. People die. People remarry and stop celebrating Christmas with you on December 7th, people stop loving people, people change. That's the way the world is. Thinking otherwise is childish. So we change with the world and we try to find places we can be comfortable. Right now, that's you and Britta."

"Right now?"

Abed shook his head. "It's a ticking bomb, but the sooner you try to make it work and then fail, the sooner you can work through it. You'll be happier in the long run. After you and Britta break up, you'll probably rededicate yourself to plumbing or air conditioning repair, and we'll spend more time together initially. Then you'll meet another girl, and we'll drift apart. I'll give a speech at your wedding. I've already written it." He shrugged. "People change, and that's really not my thing."

"Abed," Troy said carefully, "it kind of hurts me that you consider our friendship to be such a transient thing."

"I'm just being realistic. We already pushed Pierce away. Soon we'll turn on each other."

"Well, yeah," Troy admitted, "but only because that's what happened in history when King Arthur betrayed Robin Hood to the Nazgul."


At the fencing arena in the center of the Faire, Jeff, Annie, and Chuck had reached the knot of SCA fencers who were setting up for an afternoon of informal competition. Somehow along the way Jeff had slipped in between the other two. He smiled and laughed and agreed with all of Chuck's assertions about how epee fencing was the only real fencing but rapiers were fun on special occasions. The younger man seemed oblivious to what Jeff hoped wasn't an obvious attempt to keep Chuck away from Annie. Annie herself had probably cottoned to it, Jeff knew, but one problem at a time. Step one, ingratiate himself with Chuck the idiot and his idiot friends. Step two, demonstrate his superiority over all of them. Step three, no longer feel threatened by a guy being friendly to Annie. Not that Jeff felt threatened, of course. Jeff was not a guy who felt things, much less threatened…

By the time they reached the other fencers, Chuck was eager to introduce Jeff to the group, along with Annie. Under other circumstances, she'd have just exchanged a few pleasantries, then moved on to explore the rest of the Faire, but Jeff's odd behavior filled her with a sort of morbid curiosity.

"What has gotten into you, Jeff?" Annie asked him, during a brief lull when she was able to pull him aside. "I didn't think you were the kind of guy who cared what a bunch of… sword-jocks thought of you."

"Annie, you forget, I can make friends anywhere." He grinned at her, a little too broadly.

Her eyes narrowed. "This is some kind of jealousy thing, isn't it?" she asked. "I was talking about how I had a crush on the knights when I was in the eighth grade.. The eighth grade, Jeff… and Chuck was being all friendly to me, so you, what, you have to be friendlier to him?"

"Please. Why would I mind if my new buddy Chuck is 'being all friendly' at you? He's adorable. He's like a puppy." Seeing she wasn't mollified, Jeff pressed further. "A great guy, obviously. You should date him."

Annie reared back. "Whoa! You're just getting weird now."

"You should date him," Jeff repeated, more slowly. Because if I say that you should date him, then I'm obviously fine with you dating him, he thought to himself. He wasn't fine with Annie dating Chuck, of course. In fact the idea filled him with a sort of queasy rage he couldn't name. However Annie didn't need to know that. It was just that Jeff thought Chuck was a monkey and she deserved better. "Right after I demonstrate that he's basically a monkey I can get to do whatever I want."

She looked at him like he was crazy. "You just met him, you can't seriously think you can get him to do whatever you want."

Jeff licked his lips nervously. He reminded himself his ultimate goal here was to demean Chuck in Annie's eyes, because… well, he wasn't sure why, but it definitely wasn't because he didn't like that Chuck had been friendly with her. "I can and I will. You want me to demonstrate? I'm going to fence him."

"Jeff, you aren't in the SCA, you aren't dressed for it, you can't…"

"No, I can do that. I can." Jeff swallowed. He wanted, no, he needed Annie's buy-in on this, he realized on some instinctual level where he couldn't lie to himself. "In fact, I bet you I can."

She raised an eyebrow. "You bet me?"

"I bet you. I bet you, uh… lunch. Eh?" He tried to smile disarmingly at her.

Annie didn't smile back. "I already had lunch."

"Lunch another day, then," Jeff said. "They're going to call me Wingman, and I'm going to get a sword, and I'm going to fence with your friend. It isn't that hard. People did it in the Middle Ages, and they were all idiots back then, which is why they didn't have text messaging or plastic."


Meanwhile on the far side of the Faire, within the mazy confines of the crafts area, Shirley and Britta were examining handmade jewelry. More accurately, Shirley was staring at handmade jewelry while Britta stared at everything except handmade jewelry. "Chainmail bikini and shirtless barbarian at three o'clock," Britta murmured to Shirley.

Shirley glanced up at the pair. "Oh, that is not a good look for him." She picked up a string of wooden beads marked with random Futhark runes. "So Britta," she said, her voice lilting upwards, "you and Troy seem to be enjoying one another's company."

"Hm? Yeah. I guess." Britta craned her neck to try to get a better look at one of the passersby.

Shirley took a break before she continued. "I do hope you're not disrepecting yourself, or Troy, by giving in to society's pressure to degrade yourselves…"

"What?" Britta whipped her head back around. "Sorry, that wasn't a rhetorical 'what,' that was, what did you say? It sounded like you said something crazy."

Shirley paused to consider her words carefully. "I said I hope that you and Troy aren't making any mistakes."

"What, you mean like…" Britta trailed off as she finally took Shirley's meaning. She scoffed in disbelief. "Shirley, are you serious?"

"Dead serious!" Shirley switched to her 'other voice,' a low growl. "I don't know the kind of man you've been with in the past, well, actually I do in several instances, but Troy is good boy."

"Meaning I'm not?" Britta's eyes were wide with shock. "I can't believe you're saying this to me!"

"Well, I know your mother isn't exactly…" Shirley stopped, then started again. "No. I mean, I'm a woman with a little more experience than you in terms of what makes a relationship work, and I don't want to see you hurting Troy, or yourself, because you can't…"

"Shirley!" Britta's voice shifted to a near-screech. Several of the nearby Faire-goers looked up, interested in the scene. "You're telling me you know what makes a relationship work? You married your high school sweetheart, took him back after he cheated on you, and you have the gall to lecture me on respecting myself? When have you ever respected yourself?!"

Shirley glanced around uneasily, acutely aware that they were the center of attention. "With all due respect, Britta.." she began diplomatically.

"With all due respect Shirley I didn't ask for your opinion!" Britta snapped. "When I'm looking to become a dissatisfied housewife who wasted her youth on a man who very obviously isn't worth it and who at the end of the day is always going to be seen primarily as a mother instead of a person, I'll come to you, but until then, I don't need your meddling!" She spun on her heel and stomped away, angry tears forming.

Shirley watched Britta go without saying anything, blinking back tears of her own.


At the fencing arena, Annie leaned against a post and stared grimly at Jeff as he emerged from a small knot of fencers and approached her.

"You're totally going to owe me lunch," he told her.

"You know," Annie replied, "I didn't actually agree to…"

"Wingman!" Chuck's cry cut her off. He walked up, making gunfingers at Jeff. "Pretty lady," he greeted Annie.

"And to think we used to be friends," Annie murmured quietly to herself.

"What's the good word, Chuck?" Jeff asked him.

"I cleared it with Jerry, we can totally do a little impromptu lesson. Just got to get you a safety helmet."

"Great," said Jeff. He shot Annie a smug look; she stuck her tongue out at him, quick enough that Chuck didn't see it.

"Okay, cool. We can get that going in just a few minutes." Chuck smiled, then turned aside, signaling to Jeff to follow him just out of Annie's earshot. "So, uh, I do have one question, though. What's up with you and Annie?" Chuck asked him quietly, once they were far enough away. "You with that, or are you just friends?"

Jeff found himself momentarily at a loss for words.

Chuck, not the most perceptive of men, didn't notice. "'Cause man, it's nothing to be ashamed of. She's cleaned up noice. I couldn't blame you. I barely recognized… you know, we used to call her Annie Adderall. She's looking fine now, though. I was thinking I'd, you know, go for it — the kind of girls who dress up for the Faire are total fencing groupies — but if she's yours, I wouldn't."

Jeff continued to stammer.

Chuck continued to not notice the expression on Jeff's face. "Man, Annie Adderall. I bet she's a freak, too, you know, trying to compensate for being such a dork that she's up for anything. Heh."

Jeff viewed the world as through a red-stained pane of glass. Punch him, one part of Jeff suggested. No, no, get a sword and stab him, suggested another. Go tell Annie what he just told you, demanded a third. Or would she assume he was exaggerating to make some kind of point?

Chuck looked wistful for a minute. "But like I said, no disrespect intended, dude. You're a cool guy; I'm not going to steal your girl. Anyway, I'm gonna go find you a rapier."

He patted Jeff on the shoulder and walked away.

"So the thing about Annie," Jeff began slowly, and then realized he was speaking to empty air. "The thing about Annie is you don't get to talk about her that way," he muttered.


Alas! The Flemish crossdresser and the princess have sundered their friendship. Can this rift be repaired? It's a difficult question, but not the only question our band of heroes must face. What will become of the starship captain, now wandering forlornly with no princes to play with? Will the prince's predictions of a bleaker future come true, and are they a self-fulfilling prophecy? What the hell will it take to get the attorney to stop behaving so asininely in his attempts to woo the other princess, and for how much longer will she tolerate his nonsense?

Fear not! At the good king's Renaissance Pleasure Faire all these questions shall indeed be answered, ye kind lords and ladies! First we must however take a second short break, during which time ye are again welcome to avail ye-selves of the donation options offered by Ye Olde Hat.

Huzzah!