[Rimbaud]

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"That's just dandy," mutters Stephanos. "I wish I could be Bohemian like you." He brushes some lint from his crushed velvet jacket and flexes his feet within the patent Italian leather shoes.

He notices the Princess Telcontar gliding serenely through the throng. She glances idly in his direction, supine beneath the tree. Her hand flutters briefly towards him, her nails flash pearly white in the sunshine. His beleagured senses inform him that her hand is wreathed in white fire but his ceaseless cynicism denies the truth of the matter. His hip flask, clenched in his pale fist, glows red hot for the merest moment and he nearly drops it.

"What fell hell is this!" He exclaims. He lifts the flask to his pallid lips. Bitter bitter coffee pours in a stream into his gullet.

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"Arraarrk!" he gargled. He hears Estelyn's pearly laughter swooping above the party. His vision failed him entirely. "I know who turned out the lights," he muttered darkly.

His vision cleared. He stood, uncertainly. It was unusual, for he was prone to being supine. "I will be punished for the post," he thought.

He espies the Wight striding towards the centre of the cicle formed by the Pavilions, a gaggle of admirers in his wake.

Deciding, foolishly, that a spin with Esty would clear his head, he skirted a sulk of teenagers and proffered his fine right arm to the radiant Princess.

"My lady," he mumured, stunned by his new found ability to be charming. " A dance?"

"My dear Poet, I would like nothing more, but for goodness sake you have coffee grains around your mouth and your shoes are missing!"

Ahh, such malfeasant forces at work!

Grasping at a nearby hobbit, he dried his mouth and asked the young hobbit to fetch his shoes promptly in return for something "to cheer you up". The hobbit's face brightened and he scampered off, shortly to return with Steph's shoes as the newly-sobered poet chatted amicably with Estelyn about the price of fresh-water fish and whether zifnab would make an appearance.

Stephanos passed the hobbit the pewter hip-flask with a chuckle.

"Now my lady," said Stephanos grandiosely. "My shoes were made for dancing as were your eyes!"

He prepared for the slap that inevitably followed such sallies...