After passing judgment on Val Sedgwick, Soren, Queen of Tarn, walks toward the stables... 
Lord Richard, in full armor, rides up. "My lady, I noticed a gathering yonder. Most unusual. The ladies set out the red carpet.""A Trial of Love, M'Lord. Your ladies insisted I preside."
"My ladies? Pshaw! At best, I serve as their groundskeeper."
"Practice, dear Lady. Unsettled times with our empty throne. I must be ready, should there be attacks."
Her eyes twitch at his mention of the throne.
Soren blushes and draws a breath. "Yes, I've, as you say, 'swung a sword'... that once... until you quite captured me." "None of it. Did you not still have your sword after our encounter?" He shifts weight in the saddle. "My thanks for your concern and most gracious assistance."
"Nonsense! I'm off to view the jousting. And, Miss Snippy, you'll wash MY riding cape before YOU put it away."
Soren's face reddens. "I... I thought you were dying."
"None of it." Soren sets her jaw. "We are leaving. You will walk behind."
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Soren's lips quirk. "Your lance, Lord Richard. And how else may I serve you, our most redoubtable groundskeeper? But why do you joust? Surely you've proved your skill and valor a hundred times."
"Then you'll need this shield." She pauses. "I do wish... "
He studies her eyes. "'Tis sport, dear Lady. You yourself have swung a sword." 
Sandra edges closer. "What was THAT all about? Thought you two were at swords points!" She reaches out. "Is that a blush on your cheek?"
Lord Richard greets Sir Bors.
Soren arrives as lances strike!
DISASTER!! 
Lord Richard stirs. "Woman, what are you saying?"
He gets to one knee. "From a little bump at a joust? Take me for a hothouse flower, do you?"
He draws in a breath. "An embarrassment at most. All in good sport."
The girl grins. "Well whaddya know?"
