The Hitchhiker's Guide to Middle-earth, 2007

Being an account of

oloriel's journey to and adventures at the Middle-earth Festival three weeks ago which I should have written down back then, but as always work, the house and assorted projects have eaten my time, so... well. I'll try now.
With photos!

Only in English for now - I may translate later - in four successive journal entries. I think. If this works.

Oh, and under a cut for length.

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Thursday, July 5th

Do you know that feeling when you've left a place you liked and return there after a prolonged absence that no time has passed, that you just pick up where you left?
Leuk is one of those places.
At the same time we tend to forget that time does go on in the place we left. Things change. We return to a different place. With Leuk, I knew that this would be so (and, in fact, was worried about it a bit). Shortly after the MEF 2003 (but we had nothing to do with it!) the forest around Leuk burned down. The old castles have been renovated. The satellite station has expanded. And the Middle-earth Festival itself has grown up.

Yet, as soon as we've left the car and begin the ascent towards the castles, I feel at home. I know these stairs and climbs, the vinyards and the meandering streets. There is a lot more forest than I had thought; but then, it's been four years since the fire. For the first time, there is snow on the mountain peeks (and later we learn that those who took part in the "Caradhras Hike" across one of the mountain passes actually ran into a snow storm! Of course, it was called the Caradhras Hike...).
Half of the people running around are familiar, at least from seeing them. After some minor trouble at the check-in we get our nerd-bracelet, program, info-booklet and the usual maps from the Leuk tourism board we find our room in the Kinderdorf, get into garb and manage to catch the finals of the jugger game (jugger has replaced the traditional football game between Concordia Gondor and Discordia Mordor; it is rather more archaic, more chaotic, and more in-character).
Afterwards we march up to the town again where we take a first look at the market. The food stalls beckon with tasty, tasty smells, but it's only one hour to go until supper, so we behave and don't spoil our appetites. Instead we watch the smith teach some ranger how to make a nail and learn how to make fire with iron and flintstone from a quaint guy speaking a particularly endearing variant of waliserdytsch (and either waliserdytsch has grown more intelligible since the last time I was there, or my meddling with Anglo-saxon has taught me enough about backtracking vowel shifts, word stems and lenitions to apply the same to another Germanix language. Because whereas I couldn't understand a word of waliserdytsch in the past, I now manage to understand most of what he says - as long as I really concentrate. It's like Beowulf with less viking and more French).

We also make some elderly man of the Leuk tourism board very happy. That is, we suspect they were members of the Leuk tourism board. They watch the proceedings - it's pretty calm yet, only a dancing workshop going on on the meadow between the castles - and tell us how impressed they are by the peaceful atmosphere of the festival ("With so many young people, you'd expect more trouble, but all of you people here are so open-minded and friendly and intelligent!"), are delighted to hear that I'm here for the third time and that we've come from quite far away (it's around 700km for me and more than 1000km for

ladyelleth) and that we love the village...

Supper teaches us that we should've taken our cups along after all, because we don't get any. We get Geschnetzeltes and rice though. The plates sport the line Burgensia Leucae and the town coat of arms, which is some kind of strange and apparently horny gryphon creature brandishing a sword (don't ask me, I didn't make this up!). Noble, noble!
Then it's time for our first workshop: line dances.

It's pleasantly cool in the little gym, but after the first dances, we don't notice that anymore. We learn some relatively simple but evilly fast dances of rural origin. Knud - the master of ceremonies, explains that all of them are still danced in some part of Europe, mostly Brittany (traditionally, that is, not just in some Renaissance dancing circle or at Medieval Markets). We learn the Maître de la maison (of course), Bransle des rats (in a version much kinder on thighs and ankles than the one I learned in Cologne), An Dro and Hanter Dro, Laridé, Plinn, Rondeaux Chaîne and Gallopede (... I think) and end up out of breath with aching pinkies (because Bretons are just weird). If anyone wants explanations on how to dance these, or would like the music, comment and I shall try to provide ;)

We get back to the Burgplatz just in time for the traditional torch walk. I am by now carrying my Fëanorian banner (... oh come on. TORCH WALK.) and find out that the bloody thing is astonishingly hard to control with one hand (the other is holding the torch, after all) because even a relatively small banner happily turns into a parachute as soon as a gust of wind hits it. There are a lot of random gusts of wind coming down from the mountains. Miraculously I manage to keep the banner to myself and NOT drag it through any torches, though...
Aside from the difficulty, it's strangely satisfying to carry a banner and one torch in a sea of torches. Primeval ~~fascist~~ instincs, I tell you.
To top things off, the guys of the medieval band Duivelspack march right behind us, so we get live music, too! The house of Fëanor marches into battle to the sound of a lute, a pipe and a drum. Or so.

Actually I have to use this change for a brief excursus on the Duivelspack, because these guys are made of win. They were technically invited as "stars" but came across, all the while, as normal fans and guests who just celebrated with the others. Which is a good thing, I assure you. Also they make really good music, are a lot of fun to be around and don't look too bad, either. :D

When we have finished our circle around the town and all the torches have burned down, we gather on the meadow for the first concert. Tonight, it's the Streuner, another lovely band. They entertain us excellently until midnight (as everything that happens on the meadow can be heard all through the town and, probably, down in Susten and over in Leukerbad as well, we cannot be noisy indefinitely - not outside, at any rate; inside the taverns the party will continue until dawn, just without the live music) and

ladyelleth and I manage to stand in the front lines where everybody's dancing like mad. Fun!

When the band has packed up, we decide to make this an early night, so we return to the Kinderdorf after one cup of mead each.

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