Today is the final day of Hostfest, and I’m sitting in a corner behind a Viking tent, because I need to plug the laptop in. Last night I thought I was re-charging it as I slept, but apparently I was draining it instead.

Sorry to report that I have no further serious injuries to catalog. I got a sharp smack on the wrist at one point yesterday, but things that don’t leave a mark don’t count at this point. My hand actually feels better today, and a lot of the swelling has gone down. My upper lip is still a little numb, but I rarely smile anyway, so who’s to tell?

I haven’t told you about our host. This year I attained the heart of the Inner Circle in the Viking Age Club, by achieving the honor of being permitted to stay at Grace’s house.

When we come to Minot, we’re always housed with locals, at the expense of the festival (thank you, Festival! Most especially Touchstone Energy, which provides our Viking camp space!). But only the old-timers get to stay with Grace.

Grace is a widow lady who cleans houses for a living. Those who stay with her have to share a single bathroom, and sometimes have to sleep on a couch (though more often Grace takes the couch). She’s flexible beyond all reason, not giving a hoot how early we leave or how late we come in. She’s one of those people who have very little in this world, but whatever they have is yours if you need it.

She’s also a devout Christian of the fundamentalist variety, and not at all bashful about talking about it.

I think most of the members of our club at this point are at least nominal Christians. We lost our heathens back in the time of the Great Viking Schism.

But if anyone in our group ever experiences a profound Christian conversion, I suspect it will have more to do with Grace’s faith active in love than with my sullen (and rare) reasonings.

(Dateline Minot, ND) Well, what do you know? Live steel combat isn’t as safe as I said it was.

Yesterday I got a good solid crack on my right thumb which, I feared, would keep me from holding the sword solidly. Fortunately it’s not as bad today as I expected, though swollen and stiff.

Today I got a good smash on the right little finger, which broke the skin and required a bandage. In a later fight, Ragnar managed to stab me (the point being blunt, of course) just above the mouth, again on the right side. It’s a nasty place for an abrasian, because it won’t take a bandage well (due to my beard), but I’m frankly delighted to have a dueling scar at last. I was wounded with a sword! What could be cooler than that?

And yes, I’m entirely aware of how insane that sounds.

On the other hand, you know the chicks dig it.

We did our final set today without injury (not for lack of trying on my part, I assure you).

In other Hostfest news, the crowds are large, and from my experience they’re in the mood to spend money. If my book sales keep up as they’ve started, I’ll go home very satisfied (and not just with my rakish scar).

Reba McEntire was the big concert the first night. Other acts on the big stage include Clint Black and Ray Stevens. There’s also a special venue for Abbacadabra, an Abba tribute group, and William Christopher (who played Father Mulcahy on M*A*S*H*) stars as the pastor in a production of the major midwest hit, “Lutheran Church Basement Ladies” (no, I didn’t make that up).

And, as in previous years, The Oak Ridge Boys are doing two shows a day just around the corner from us. At the moment, they’re singing “The Boys are Back.”

More as the situation develops.

If I live.

I’m off to Norsk Høstfest in Minot, ND. Come see me in the Viking Village if you’re headed that way. I’ll try to keep you updated occasionally, via WiFi, if I’m able. Otherwise, see you in about a week.

(And if you’re thinking of robbing my house while I’m gone, my renter will still be here. And he’s mean.)

I’ll be offline for a while, enjoying the family and, I hope, local foods. Be seeing you.