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Since becoming acquainted with Solvtorn, Gunnar had been spending a fair amount of time in the bard's company. His reaver friends weren't up to much. Those either too lazy or too unfortunate to be selected for the viking were grouching around, surly and unwilling to spar or relax. He didn't know any of the new reavers very well, and Gunnar was leery of befriending new reavers unless he had fought by their side. There was simply no telling how they might behave in a real battle. If he befriended an untried reaver now, they might flee in the face of the enemy when he went viking with them! Being labeled the friend of a cowardly reaver would be humiliating.

As for the seasoned and (relatively) amiable reavers like Gunnar, well. He had spent many amusing evenings chewing mint or devouring fermented fruit with them, and frankly, they were boring.

When Solvtorn started in on some fermented fruit, the things that came out of his mouth were fascinating. Best of all, Gunnar was rarely called upon to respond to Solv's boasts with a boast of his own. Trying to regale his friends with tales of his heroic deeds was difficult when his tongue was twisted by mint. Solv, having no heroic deeds to speak of, did not often spur Gunnar into trying to assemble a comeback. He could sit back and listen to the bard, simultaneously captivated and bewildered by Solv's pretty speech.

While the two lions had enjoyed mint together before, Gunnar thought this was the first time they had both sat down to fermented fruit in any quantity. "This fruit," the blond lion said gravely, rolling a piece between his paws, "Is excellent fruit." Having already tossed back a couple of small pieces, he was starting to feel nicely relaxed. The world was beginning to go fuzzy around the edges. Better hurry it along. Gunnar took a bite of the fruit in his paws, enjoying the strange sour tang of it.

A small fry?

Not being privy to Solv's rambling train of thought, the reaver didn't know what to make of that comment. He sat and digested it in silence for a moment. "I'm a reaver," Gunnar said at last. A weak comeback as comebacks went. He took another bite of his fruit.

Solvtorn's next convoluted statement about fruit and words took some more thought. He didn't think that Solv had misunderstood him, so he didn't know why the bard was picking at his choice of words. "It's an exshellent green fruit." And it was making it difficult to speak, since most of it was currently in his mouth. Swallowing hard, Gunnar gave Solv a stern look. "You're trying to confuse me. You're a bard. Tell me bard-y things."

The fruit was definitely starting to make Gunnar feel light-headed, but the bard holding forth on the subject of 'green' was making it worse. The reaver groaned theatrically, dropping his chin to the floor and putting both paws on his forehead as Solv rambled on.

If the bard was trying to confuse him, he was succeeding.

When Solv changed the subject to bards Gunnar raised his head, feeling a bit more hopeful. He wanted Solv to tell him a story -- ideally a funny one, though a bloody one would do -- not babble at him about fruit! Gunnar wasn't really interested in a story about bards, if that was what Solv intended, but he supposed it would do in a pinch. The bard would likely get tetchy if Gunnar complained, anyways. "I want to hear about the bards raining destruction on enemies," Gunnar said hopefully, leaving out the part about the verse. "Did these bards rip their enemies apart, or just yap at them about fruit until their brains ran out their ears?"

It was undoubtedly the snarkiest thing Gunnar had ever said to Solv, the pride's undisputed master of snark.

Reavers were not poets.

The very idea of reciting poetry was horrifying. Gunnar might as well shave his mane down and parade around calling himself Gunnhilda the flower maiden.

On the other paw, Solvtorn had challenged him, and no good reaver would back down from a challenge.

Gunnar's big honest brow wrinkled with thought. His head pounded. If he accepted, winning was clearly the only option. He couldn't let Solvtorn beat him, especially not as the bard would taunt him about it for the rest of his natural life. But in this case winning would also in a very real sense be losing.

Finally Gunnar dragged himself up to look Solvtorn in the eye. "Fine," he grumbled. It was perhaps the most unenthusiastic response to a challenge he had ever uttered. "But you first."

As Solv's expression of ferocity grew, so did Gunnar's gloom. The reaver looked utterly dispirited and baffled by the time the bard ran out of breath. Solv could usually talk circles around him, but at least Gunnar could recognize the words coming out of his mouth. Stanza and sestina were meaningless to him. Try as he might, Gunnar could not remember ever having heard them before. He knew what composing was, so stanza must mean something like poem. Sestina sounded like it might be the name of a flowery, fluttery lioness.

Solvtorn must already have begun.

"There once was a lion from the sea," Gunnar grated. "He sat down when he had to pee. He was very flower-ee."

After a tortured pause to assemble more words, the lion continued:

"The end."

As miserable as he was to be in a poetry contest, Gunnar burst into laughter at Solv's offering. He didn't have a very refined sense of humor at the best of times, and being drunk had reduced Gunnar's maturity level to approximately that of a cub.

A dim hope flickered that this poetry contest might be fun, if only he could get over the horrid embarrassment of having to come up with poems himself.

It took a moment to dredge his brain for a response. Creativity was not often demanded or expected of him, and he had never really appreciated just how difficult it was to come up with clever things on one's own.

"But the girls liked that cat
More than Solvtorn, in fact
So the handsome bard
Had to mate with a 'pard."

Gunnar felt immensely smug that he had come up with four whole lines of poetry. They were probably really good lines too, or at least much better than the first lines of poetry high-and-mighty Solvtorn managed to write when learning his craft.

"Hey!" The reaver echoed, startled and offended by Solv's reply. It was funny, though. Gunnar found himself laughing, torn between horror at Solv's insult and hilarity at the ridiculous situation the bard described. He was tempted to turn tail and run, but that would be giving up. He wasn't about to let Solv win with that awful poem.

"I want to die in battle, famed
And to bring honor to my name.

But that would be extremely hard
If I were covered by a bard.

So I pushed Solvtorn away
And smacked him in his bardly face.

'Friend,' I said, 'I'll help you find
Something to help you unwind.'

And I took him to the stinking den
Of Bilijo, the hippo-wench!"

Gunnar had been in the contest long enough to know that Solv was surely going to come up with something obnoxious and offensive. He chewed on another fruit while Solv composed his latest poem. The fruit seemed to be inspiring Solv. Gunnar would need some inspiration himself if he were to fight back!

The mental images conjured up by all this talk of Bilijo the hippo-wench made Gunnar's blood freeze. He shuddered. The reaver opened his mouth and then shut it with a snap.

Nope, nope nope. He could not have come up with a poem about himself being abused by Bilijo while sober, and with the fermented fruit in his belly the thought of being trapped in Bilijo's den was enough to make his stomach roil.

"Well. You win, then." Gunnar said, laughing. He didn't like to lose, but he also didn't want to think up rhymes about being kidnapped by Bilijo. The reaver gave Solv a lopsided grin.

"Loyal Solv stood outside the den
Waiting for his fallen friend
Out popped the head of the big pink beast
She asked Solvtorn to join the feast
Alas poor Solv was not so bright
And he was eaten too that night."

He had already ceded the contest to Solvtorn, but if was to be eaten by Bilijo in verse he thought Solv should share his grim fate.