As Heppa and Alric approach the part of the field blocked off for the pitchfork games, the announcers are still calling for participants. “Let’s try it!” Heppa says excitedly, interested in a new experience of human activities. Although he has amused himself watching the competition many times, Alric has never participated. However, he is happy to do so alongside Heppa. “What’s a pitchfork, anyway?” she asks, coming from a farm-less society. “Is that another instrument? Something for tuning?” She quickly learns the answer when a long wooden pole with four tines at the end is thrust into her hands.
The first challenge is the hay-shoveling contest. A roped off section of the field is covered with cut hay almost up to Heppa’s knees. “This seems like it would be better in a barn,” Heppa observes, and Alric points out that although this is based on farming skills, it is a gamification of them. The contestants must scoop up the scattered hay into stacks. Heppa observes how the other participants hold their pitchforks, dominant hand at the back, other hand partway down. Straw fills the air as the contest gets underway. With a strong thrust, Heppa stabs into the hay, and then swings her body, tilting the pitchfork to deposit its load in a pile to the side. She clears her area swiftly. “It’s so interesting to do something so pointless for fun!” she cheers.
When she looks up from her work, she sees that Alric has finished as well. Audience members murmur appreciation for how good a job he had done, particularly since his pitchfork is balanced across a forearm, rather than gripped by a second hand. “Hey, isn’t that the bartender from the Parting Glass? Look at him here, an honest, hard-worker just like ourselves,” one of them comments.
Another says to a friend, “That guy’s all right! The Parting Glass is the place to be. You haven’t been there? We should go for a drink some time.” Alric is a little surprised to be recognized. Though he is an established businessman, this is a wider variety of folks than the sort who usually frequent his bar. It will be good to have a more diverse clientele.
The second half of the pitchfork games is the throw. A large haystack stands as the target, and participants must hurl their pitchfork at it, trying to get it to plant firmly in the mound. The judges are looking for impressive height and angle. “This seems kind of silly,” Heppa says, observing the first set of throwers. Then she reconsiders, “Though I suppose you could use it in battle if you happened to have a pitchfork.” Alric goes before she does but makes a poor showing; the weapons he throws are far lighter with a completely different style. Heppa surprises herself by planting her pitchfork securely in the haystack.
One of the other contestants compliments her. “Nice throw! Do elves use pitchforks to defend their villages the way that human farmers need to?”
“Not at all! I’ve never seen one of these before. We use swords, bows, and staffs. We don’t do much farming, so we don’t really have tools like these.”
“You’ve got to work with what you got,” the human comments. Heppa can see how the jabbing motion from the shoveling competition would be useful against a bandit, and the throw is rather like the way javelins are hurled.
Having done well at both competitions, Heppa receives some prize chits, small pieces of wood with the festival symbol branded on them. The officiant explains that they provide discounts with the merchants. Prize in hand, Heppa heads off with Alric to go find a decorative gourd container for her sister. Lala wanted pottery that reflected human artistic sentiments, and although the one made by Terwaen’s Aunt Midge certainly does, this fair is a perfect opportunity to find another.