One of the fortunate aspects to growing up was that when one aged, and was both accustomed to drinking "like a fish"--though a certain fair maid had argued that this logic was not only an untrue fact as fish according to her did not drink, but a poor comparison for reference-- their body eventually developed a tolerance to it all. On account of this, Godric had risen at a reasonable hour and followed his plans to depart from the castle at the heart of London.
He had penned a very quick and vague letter to Lord Thaddeus that kindly thanked him for the invitation and sent him good wishes. Though he had wished to deliver it personally, Godric was told that Thaddeus was indisposed. If Gryffindor was to believe the servant who had quickly told him this, and shooed him away which in itself was rude, to be indisposed was certainly polite for being entirely wasted. Curled up on an unforgivingly cold stone floor with but a chamber pot as a companion. Mead and its kin folk that the new lord had consumed the night before were not friends upon the morning that one awoke with a foul headache, and unquenchable dry mouth. That was a sorry state of affairs and not a grand way one wished to begin servitude within the courts.
There was no finery on this new day, it was far too stuffy and hot, it was humble garb without any crests upon it, simply breathable and light fabrics suited for travel. What remained ever present was his sword, and less visible, his wand. His stallion was skittish and pawed at the ground impatient as ever for the horse did like to run as Godric waited for his two companions.
“I valiantly shall guard the lot of you from bad mead! Not a drop of mead shall pass your lips until I have tasted it and made sure it lacks poisons.”
Godric felt that he would not discourage his friend’s calling no matter how it was quite biased and simply laughed, he enchanted away all of the training gear except what each warrior had brought down from their bedchambers which was of course personal weaponry. The three of them in leathers, their surcoats and relatively similar weaponry in stark contrast to what Andros used. In the time that the company returned successfully with vat of mead, mugs, a well managed raid indeed, Gryffindor had already loosened some of the dark leathers beneath his surcoat and flopped lackadaisically on the cool, if not trampled grass beneath the tower named after him. It was a very strange thing to have a tower named after oneself. It had no banner, that was too bold, and simply looked like all the others, but was seven stories tall. Was it truly compensation as another had already mocked?
He was now not certain of how much time had transpired between the raid, the subsequent tom foolery afterwards, it might have been an hour, the shade of the tower had shifted so that as they were strewn in the grass as if the grounds here had truly been a battle and they all had lost it. The lot of them had fallen where they had stood, mugs beside them shed with the swords and belts. Off to the side, or either behind him a bit Godric heard as Caradoc’s voice drifted over, he apparently wished to teach Anderson a tavern song. Godric snorted a laughter, amused by how Caradoc simply could not retain the name of the man that he had traveled with—it was a small wonder that he retained the name Gifford and not Andros which was shorter if not an easier name to retain—and spoke very quickly,
“You most certainly cannot. You know but one tavern song and it is far too lewd for any place but a tavern.”
It was terribly hypocritical for him to say, seeing how that song was the one that Godric himself had learned from Caradoc and then sung about a cauldron and fire to keep up spirits when the four founders had traveled together and Helga had fallen ill. Rowena had been most certainly displeased to hear it, however, the other warriors had no reason to know it. Nor how he had acted afterwards on that day, many years ago.
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Caradoc Cadagon had emptied his sixth…or perhaps it was the ninth…cup of mead. He sat there in the grass, grinning foolishly at the empty mug, thinking of that hysterical song he often sang when get became this drunk. “Anderson! Anderson!” Caradoc yelled, though Andros was only a few feet away from him. “You have got to listen to this! ‘Tis one of my most favorite songs…now, let’s see…is it four and twenty virgins, or perhaps twenty and four…” He knit his brow in concentration as he heard Godric chide him. The Knight frowned, defeated, and turned to look at his friend.
“Blast! It’s yer favorite song, Gryffindor.” He said, as if Godric was unaware of this. Caradoc’s spirits were exceptionally high today, his adrenaline from the training only slightly dulled by the mead, his mind even more so.“‘Sides, I know at least two other songs.”He continued, nodding sagely. Caradoc glanced back down at the mug.“I say! This mead was indeed lacking poison. So glad we have a whole vat of it!”Or, they did have a whole vat. It was a good thing he didn’t go an check, for the lack of mead left might have broken the man’s heart.
“Anderson, c’mere. I’ll whisper the song.”
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Elfrida had heard of the mead raid, and heard it when it was in process, though she chose to simply watch the foolery, and not partake in the action. Somehow however, she ended up holding mugs for the knights with above advrage builds, as they carried the vat of mead. Or rather Andros carried the mead, while Godric kept watch and Caradoc made bawdy jokes and talked about how his master plan was a huge success.
The knights always amused Elfrida, especially when they decided to do actions secretly, even when they probably wouldn’t get scolded for by anyone by Rowena. Elfrida found herself slightly side tracked, and found herself far behind the knights. She jogged to catch up to them, and found them at the base of Gryffindor tower, the knights’ favorite place to get wasted. Or perhaps not their favorite, but a place where they couldn’t get caught. “‘Tis a shame when men forget their cups.” Elfrida teased, approaching the pouting knights. “Almost as shameful as what they say in their cups.” Elfrida handed the knights their glasses, and sat in the slight damp grass, pulling her legs up to her chest.
She laughed with the knights through out the time it took for them to get intoxicated, and helped Caradoc more than once get more mead.
Elfrida rolled her eyes at Caradoc and Godric as they bickered over their bawdy songs. “Andros doesn’t want to hear your filth,” Elfrida said teasingly, sipping at the mead she had secretly acquired just moments before. It was strong and burned as it went down her throat, but it wasn’t as bad as she would have drunk if she stayed a squire.
Turning to Godric, Elfrida laughed lightly, “Is it wise to allow him to drink further?” Since when did Elfrida and the knights ever do anything wise?
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“And a sharp squire notes such things and fills in where the knight fails.”
Gryffindor replied as much as a taunt as it was to Caradoc—for it seemed that no matter what planning that Caradoc had done, of what it was precisely Godric had missed out on having not gone on the raid and cleaned up the training grounds instead, his plans had gone awry— as it was in praise to Elfrida. Had the old company that both Caradoc and Godric himself had not found out that she, was in fact a girl which still was something that the muggles had overlooked, not turned “her” over, Elfrida would have still made a respectable squire.
Such had earned her a respectable place here among the knights, and Andros too had finally won favor.
“It may be, but it still has no respectable place in a school.”
He quipped back to his best mate with a determined note that meant that his logic was more sound then Caradoc’s, as it often was, and he genuinely would not settle for it being sung.
Or the other two that were quite lewd as well.
Despite Caradoc’s assessment on how much the vat contained still, Godric thought otherwise, having monitored it much more closely then he might have done before. He needed to still obtain some sense of discretion, some sense that he was more then a man child who would simply slack off and drink here with the knights. Gryffindor was quite certain that Caradoc had miscounted his own drinks. Godric himself had two mugs worth and that was an amount that Andros had outdone by at least triple the amount. Regardless of the final count, he was quite certain that both vat one and vat two were quite empty.
Andros most certainly did not need to hear said filth, the chances were quite high that the foreigner would even understand the double meanings and other such things that those songs contained, however the native English speaking countrymen, and sole woman, would understand it. That, and they could easily be quite offended. Yes Godric was supposed to be a respectable man, a leader and a teacher, though he was here in the shadow of his tower, somewhat drunk. Godric noded firmly at Elfrida’s rather noted tease for he did agree with it.
“Neither does the rest of the school.”
Gryffindor added, for Caradoc had two pitches of singing said bawdy song: loud and ridiculously loud to the point it was deafening. Among other drunks it was an indistinguishable noise after all there were but the same two volumes within the taverns themselves, but not here and now. As they were collected within in a courtyard with arches about them such tones would have echoed off the stones, the steeples and that was most certainly not the type of education that the students needed, nor was it one that they were promised. Perhaps he should have said otherwise when his little imp sipped from a mug that she too had acquired, being quite easy to do as she carried them in, he should have registered something other then a moderate curiosity if not amusement. With such actions Elfrida had earned a place, despite her sex, here among the knights. Naturally, it served her quite well that she too had been with the old company that Godric had been with, a marksmen already, and having done this all while masquerading as a lad.
Godric looked wickedly amused at what Elfrida had to say. Wise was not particularly his forte and less inclined to be when he did feel a tad bit warm from the training, wearing far too much leather for comfort, the sunbathing and what mead he had drank himself.
“At this point I think most of it as show and jest, seeing how Andros drank most of it.”
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Andros had never been excluded from the rest of the knights at the tavern. He was quite certain that most had bets going as to how much mead he would have to drink in order to pass out. So far they had not found a tavern which carried so much, or was willing to sell so much in one night. Being nearly twice the size of the biggest meant that he could retain nearly thrice the amount of drink the most tolerant of them could. He was fond of alcohol, though not very much this English drink. His favorite drink was a wine that the river people made and traded his own people for. One of the women he had won from another tribe had grown up in the shadow of the great stone tombs, and knew how how to spice the wine. He would not find the wine, or the woman, on this island, and made himself content with this mead instead.
He turned to face Cadogan, he was a good man if slightly more deranged than the rest of these Englishmen, and Andros had taken to him as quickly as he had taken to Andros. He was not Godric’s closest friend for naught and was of one mind with the Bold, even if it was not so apparent. Or perhaps he was of one mind where it concerned Andros. Either way, he and Godric were the first to treat him as one of their own kind. He did wish that the man would remember his name though.
“This drink has made you stranger than norm, Cadogan,” half the time Andros was not entirely certain what the knight was speaking about. He could usually guess, however, from the expressions on the man’s face. That was another thing Andros liked about the knight, his eyes were honest, they showed no deceit. He had, however, gotten used to the man’s oddities, or learned how to tolerate them anyhow.
He turned to the young girl beside him and gave her an amused smile. She had been his partner in doing all the manual work in this particular venture. While she carried the cups he had carried two barrels of mead, one on each shoulder. A shoulder for himself and the other for the rest. The cups the house elves provided were too small for him however, and he was quick to hand Elfrida his cup and drink his mead out of the large drinking horn he carried with him at all times.
“I will listen to this song,” Andros boomed, turning back to the rest of the men and taking another large swallow of mead. Though it was not apparent on his stoic face, Andros was feeling rather good natured (which was really the extent of the effect that drink had on him), and although he knew it was unlikely that he would understand most of the song, watching the knight sing had always been immensely amusing in the past.
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“We’re not in a school.” Caradoc replied, waving his mug at their surroundings. He gave Godric a look, grinning again. “Anderson has requested the song, Go-d-ric.” He continued, sounding out Godric’s name as if he were just learning it for the first time. Now, Caradoc never actually ‘sang’ any of these songs, as much as he really just yelled or chanted them. When it came to tavern songs, you didn’t need to be able to sing. And nary a tune could make this particular song sound any less lewd.
“Singing balls to yer partner, arse against the wall. If ye canna get laid on a Saturday night, ye canna get laid at’all!”
At this point, Caradoc’s mug flew from his hand, as he was swinging it around, and narrowly missed Andros.
“Oh the Ball, the Ball of Ballynoor! Where yer wife ‘n my wife were fuckin’ on the floor! Four ‘n Twenty virgins came down from Iverness. And when the ball was over, there were four ‘n twenty less!”
The Knight paused to catch his breath.
“The Queen, she had a chicken. The King had a duck. So they put ‘em on the table to see if they would f-” Caradoc stopped himself, seeming to realize his mug was gone. “Ittle Limp, m’dear! Can you help a poor ol’ knight?” He asked, gesturing to Elfrida. Clearly this man needed more mead.
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Elfrida absentmindedly finished her mug of mead, and took Andros’ more focused on what the man had to say, than his actions. Laughing lightly Elfrida rolled her eyes, at Andros’ words, the devils drink had an effect on even the most imperturbable of men.
Laying back on her elbows Elfrida listened to Caradoc’s song. It wasn’t the first time she had heard the particular melody, for Caradoc had made an impression with his lewd tunes on the band of knights she traveled with, though it was the first time she had heard it sung Caradoc’s pitch.
Elfrida shielded her face from the mead that was sloshing out of the knights cup, and laughed. Her mind wandered to how some of the more ‘lady like’ women at Hogwarts would react to the tune. She tucked away certain parts of the song into a sector of her brain to be used for a later date.
Rolling her eyes, Elfrida prang up, having to take a moment to find her footing. The mead was making her more light headed than she intended. The Ittle Limp took Caradoc’s mug before he could throw it at her, and made her way to the barrels once again.
“‘Fraid the mead has been drunk!” Elfrida called, checking closely that there wasn’t any more of the drink available.
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Encouragement in this context was not quite what Godric wanted to hear, particuarly as Andros had announced or proclaimed it quite loud—then again quite a deal that the man spoke often sounded that way on account of the timber of his voice—, but quite clearly what Caradoc did. Godric wanted encouragement in the other direction, as no matter that they were not technically within a school being out here upon the grass, notable that Caradoc had deduced such an idea, there were still coordinators about them that an education was to be given and this was not the sort Hogwarts promised. He did not wish to demean the concept of what the school stood for, particularly as it was his idea to begin with, or demean what the other three founders stood for when they agreed to it.
Yes Andros might have requested it, but it was only done so after Caradoc had suggested it and were the knight not to mention it at all, Godric doubted that this would be a conversation that was necessary. The way that his friend pronounced his name, as if it were now foreign, new to his tongue when it was anything but indicated quite too well that Caradoc had far too much and by the gods above did not need any more. Perhaps this interaction meant that Caradoc had now accepted the foreigner, or perhaps Godric thought too much and it was the simple mad ravings of a drunk.
A brilliant sort of language to teach Elfrida and likewise to teach Andros it as well, though Godric could only hope that his friend who had yet to master English could properly understand the song to its fullness. He did not want either to be judged or thought less of were they to speak in such manner, or worse to use those words without fully understanding their meanings even though the latter was more inclined to happen to Andros. Nonetheless, it was not particularly words that Gryffindor thought that either needed to learn, although it was more then likely Elfrida had heard most of them already were the company of muggle knights she had traveled before continued what they had learned within their trainings. Children might not have been allowed in taverns but that did not stop squires once before, Godric knew this all too well, and he doubted that this would have changed. Nonetheless, he still thought Caradoc was an ass to continue onward, or at least until he had noticed that his cup was no longer plenty. Godric’s guilt was fully realized when Elfrida stood and swayed under the effects of the drink that by all means was toxic to youth, as he roused himself mentally and physically from the ground. Though she sounded almost displeased to report that both vats now were quite empty, Godric might have thought it a blessing in disguise.
“Unfortunate then.”
He then eyed Caradoc,
“You cannot have any more if there is none to be had and should not as none of us wish to cart you up the all the stairs.”
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Andros sat, taking large drinks of mead from his horn and observing as Caradoc danced around before their gathering, drinking sloshing out of his cup. Godric was right in thinking that Andros would not understand half the song, the first verse he understood nothing of, and so his face remained as it always appeared and he simply took another drink. He ducked out of the way of the drink that was flying out of Caradoc’s cup. The second verse however, he understood perfectly. A loud laugh burst out of him, and he threw his head back as the laugh resounded throughout him. It was not a common occurrence, to find Andros laughing. It was not that he did not have a sense of humor, he did, he had always been the man who laughed the loudest beside the fire pit. But his sense of humor would not be understood by these Englishmen, even if he knew how to adequately express it. Nor did he understood the English humor.
“Mayhaps I would have enjoyed the large dance in the eating hall if it were like this which Caradoc sings of,” Andros said, sounding and looking amused, as Elfrida stood to check on the mead. He noticed her swaying but thought nothing of it. He had been 15 once too, and could not hold his alcohol well then either. Not to mention she was only about a quarter of the size he’d been at 15. All men were tall and large where he was from, even the women were quite large compared to the ones he’d seen in other lands. It hadn’t surprised him entirely, they frequently came into contact with the river people and they were quite small and delicate, however he did not think that he would not find any other people similar in size to his own.
He laughed again when Elfrida called out her assessment, he was about to open his mouth to offer to go carry more, but closed it once again when Godric began to speak. He decided not to offer, deciding he had done enough damage for one gathering. True, it was Caradoc who had planted the idea of the song in his head to begin with, and Andros had never mastered the ability of denying what was offered to him. It had not gotten him into too much trouble, yet. He would have liked to hear the rest of the song as well, but once again he decided to keep his mouth shut and simply sipped at his mead, letting the scene play out before him. He would not have minded drinking his way through another barrel or two either, to be completely honest.
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Caradoc could not help but grin as Andros laughed, for that was his sole intention on singing the song. But even an unexpected laugh could not cheer him up after he heard about the lack of mead, and Godric’s displeasure. He lay back in the grass, looking up at the sky. “I am impressed.” He said, though perhaps only Godric would understand the man meant ‘depressed’. “What cad drunk all the mead?!”
While he was sure Andros could most likely carry him up to the tower, if it came to that, Caradoc was picturing Elfrida given the task of hauling him upstairs, and couldn’t help but laugh. Suddenly, his eyes lit up, and he rolled over onto his stomach so that he could see Godric.“The next time this school has a Ball, or some other fancy dancy…it should be like the song! Wait, wait, wait, lemme finish!”He exclaimed, though he had nothing else to say.
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Elfrida turned around quickly when Andros laughed, half frightened in her buzzed state that he was like a roaring bear, ready to attack, but what quite pleased to see the big man’s mirth.
Elfrida’s announcement of the lack of mead was met with many different reactions: Caradoc was impressed, Godric looked put out, and Andros waslaughing. It was quite a feat that the knights and the squire got one laughed, let alone two, out of the giant. “Who do you expect drunk the mead? Though you never got up to get it yourself you certainly had your fair share.” Her lips were twitching into the form of a smile, but the fifteen year old still tried to seem firm whilst chastising the childish knight. There was no doubt in Elfrida’s mind that Andros drunk a large sum of the mead, though the man did get a full vat just for himself.
Laughin lightly at both Andros’ and Caradoc’s announcement the little Imp sat down on the cool grass, slightly oblivious that Godric was upset at how much she had drank. Her head was still spinning, but she ignored the movement and yet again scolded Caradoc, “No one, sides from members of the present company, wishes to see you partake in any of the actions depicted in that song of yours.”
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Godric rubbed at the bridge of his nose now that he felt quite sobered as his conscience had returned with a rather impressive wallop to his head. That was the only proper way to use the word as he knew all too well that contrary to what Caradoc had said, impressed, he was in no way impressed at all. Perhaps Gryffindor should have taken the initiative and not allowed the initial raid of mead to begin with, reacted and put his metaphorical foot down. Instead of simply letting them march off with Caradoc spouting ideas of how well they were trained as a garrison of Hogwarts, that and how impressive they looked, then how simple of a mission this should be then cleaning up their mess in the courtyard.
However chances were that if Godric had even said it he might not had his way to begin with. Caradoc could very well have ignored him once more, carried on with what he indeed to do and rambling all the same. Again were there anything impressive at all it was that Andros had found this all rather amusing and laughed about it, as the man was so very guarded. Naturally, Godric wanted his friend to feel comfortable and at home here at the castle, regardless if he had yet to fully understand the language or the ways of odd Englishmen. For the foreigner who was outcasted and banished, a way that Gryffindor himself felt, he wanted the man who was just as noble to feel that he did belong. Did it take drinking for one to feel that they belonged? Surely not, otherwise his own issues with his family were to be resolved by drinks, but perhaps such activities equated to comfort.
Said cad who had spoken that seemingly rhetorical question, was no doubt the one who had consumed all the mead. Elfrida quipped the same and Godric was just a bit more amused that he should have been that a sharp eyed child had noted and given such a smart retort to a man who was many years her senior.
The next ball most certainly would not be that way and if Godric had heard the gossip correctly, there was quite enough sexual tensions going about without needing such lewd acts that were spoken of in said song. Caradoc could dream it but it was nothing more then one of those foolish dreams, as Godric shook his head and laughed quietly. This was but one of the occasions when he felt a friend to the younger man from Wild Moor but a parent instead.
“You are quite mad.”
Gryffindor innocently teased.
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Andros probably would have laughed had he noticed Elfrida’s reaction. He held an unusual (unusual because he did not usually take to people so well) fondness for the younger girl. He did not understand her situation in the slightest, but he did not entirely understand knights or squires or titles either. In his land a woman was what she wished to be and followed whomever she chose just as a man did. Elfrida had to pretend to be a boy, although he could hardly see how anyone could mistake her for anything but a girl, and sneak away from her home to become a knight. It was all highly complicated, just as he had noticed many foreign things to be.
He gave Caradoc a confused look, impressed, impressed by what? Andros wondered if he had confused the meaning of yet another word or if Caradoc was using it in some other way. Perhaps this was why Andros was so guarded, not understanding half of what was spoken in his company was not a comfortable situation for anyone to be in. His laughter died away and his customary stoic expression returned to his face as he drank all that remained of the mead from his horn.
He felt his mood lighten once again as he watched the banter between Elfrida and Caradoc and was highly amused by Godric’s seemingly sudden return of conscience. There was a lingering tension once Godric had spoken his innocent jape at Caradoc, however it was a light-hearted tension which hardly affected Andros, who merely sat and continued to drink from his horn. “I am to guess there will be no more to drink?” Andros asked once he had drained all that was left of the mead.
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Caradoc had what looked to be a fit of sorts, as soon as he heard Andros’s observation. Elfrida’s words merely amused him, and Godric just spoke the truth, but…no more drinks?! “What are we to do? Braid each other’s hair?” Never had a man looked so forlorn as Caradoc did now. He wasn’t half as drunk as he could be! “Frida, my love, my one and only!” He said, dramatically, arm outstretched to Elfrida, which was rather uncomfortable when laying down. “Please, tell me there is more mead.”
He frowned, looking over at Godric. Yes, more mead was in order. Godric was still sober enough to have a conscious, though rarely did Godric ever get as sloshed as Caradoc. The Knight looked back at Elfrida, and raised an eyebrow. “Steady, girl!” He exclaimed, now noticing the little imp’s tipsiness.
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Elfrida raised her eyebrow at Caradoc, and looked between him and Andros. “You men do not need more mead.”She said quite blatantly,“The poor healer does not need to live with your alcohol poisoning.”Elfrida was quite sure that Caradoc would be the only one to actually get alcohol poisoning if he continued drinking, for Godric seemed steadfast in the fact they there would be no more mead this night, and Andros had far too much body to poison.
“I am perfectly steady.”Said the girl as she swayed and laughed back to her seat.“And there is no more mead, Caradoc my love.”She said teasingly, shrugging her tiny shoulders as she sat down. Smiling innocently over to Godric, Elfrida leaned her tiny back against Andros’ massive arm for support. She was, in fact, not very steady.
Elfrida had half a mind to convince Caradoc, with a few honeyed words, to sing for them again, just to lift tensions. However she was not called Elfridathe Keenfor nothing, and could tell that lewd songs would not do much to lift Godric’s spirits at the moment.
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Andros did not think any more mead would affect him in the slightest, however he did not say as much so as not to ruin Elfrida’s jest. He snorted at Caradoc’s fit as he tied his drinking horn back into it’s place on his belt. He would rinse it with water at a later date, perhaps tomorrow, though it was more likely it would get rinsed out with more drink. “Mine hair you shall not touch, Cadogan,” Andros said. In truth, Lorna had probably braided his hair once, just as she had probably wrapped it in one of her scarves and put bells in it. Though, that was not something he would share with the current company, nor any company for that matter. Although, even if it had occurred to Lorna to ask, he would not have turned her down. He hardly think it mattered either way, he simply did not trust Cadogan not to set his head on fire.
He watched Caradoc’s dramatics with an amused expression, though he was certain that there was no more mead. Caradoc directed his attention back to a swaying Elfrida and Andros tried to recall exactly how much the young quire had drunk. Just the two glasses he guessed, one of which he had given her. It was quite clear by now, from the expression on Godric’s face especially, that there was to be no more drinking tonight. He caught the knight’s eyes and nodded, standing quite abruptly. He helped Caradoc to his feet first and then Elfrida, while Godric summoned one of the house elves to help clean up the mess.
He realized that Elfrida was struggling to walk straight and reached out to catch her. “Little elf has too much drink,” he said with a short laugh, as he picked her up with ease. Behind him, Godric was refusing to carry Caradoc to bed, insisting that the drunk knight drag himself to bed or sleep outside. The party eventually made their way up the moving staircases, not without incident however, as Caradoc’s half-drunken state caused them to miss many flights and end up on wrong landings. All the while Caradoc continued to insist on resuming his tavern song, eventually forcing Godric to clamp his hand down on his mouth. The four finally stumbled into the tower, Godric shushing and berating them for their clumsiness. Andros watched, amused, as Caradoc half-crawled up the steps to his room. Godric took his leave of the giant and the girl and left to his own quarters. Andros carried Elfrida to her bed, setting her down as gently as he could and leaving just as quietly, for the girl had dropped off to sleep somewhere along the way. He then began his climb to his own room, he had chosen the one at the top of the tower, so that he may look out and see the stars whenever he desired. The whole group would be having much trouble waking up the following morning.
