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table.
    Excusing myself to find the restroom, Rose pointed to the corner of the tavern nearest the rowdy table. I picked my way through the maze of tables, strangely drawn to the mob of men and whatever excitement was going on in their midst.
    Reaching the wall, I clung to it as I slid around the edge of the room, not wanting to stumble over anyone else. Still, I couldn’t look away from the action in front of the fireplace, running my hands along the stone wall to guide my way.
    What could possibly be exciting enough to make a group of grown men act like schoolboys? They squeezed close to one another, their large bodies packed tightly together trying to get a better look at what was going on. I had never seen such rowdiness, and my own heartbeat began to pound, anticipation stirred by the infectious energy of the group. Some men cheered and punched fists high in the air, swaying back and forth in their excitement. Their mugs of beer sloshed along with them, spilling the frothy liquid to the dirty tavern floor as they dipped and twirled.
    I finally managed to get a look when a burly farmer, unbalanced by his beer drinking, slipped in the spilled ale at his feet and tumbled to the floor. A huge mountain of a man sat at one end of the table. His face was twisted in a horrible grimace, his left hand locked in a white-knuckled grip on the edge of the table. His other hand grasped the hand of a man across from him who I could not see.
    They were arm wrestling! I couldn’t imagine who would be dumb enough to challenge such a huge man. He was enormous. His muscles bulged and rippled in every direction. I immediately felt sorry for his opponent.
    The red-faced man grunted and then began groaning with the concentrated effort he was forcing into his arm. The clasped hands still danced in the air, and amazingly, it began to look as if this man was actually losing! I heard nothing from the other side of the table. And I couldn’t imagine the giant that must be lurking behind the crowd.
    At that moment, the farmer stood back up and my vantage point was gone. I looked around, trying to find an opening, suddenly as wrapped up in the match as the farmers.
    An empty chair stood a few feet away against the stone wall of the fireplace. It was totally out of character for me, but something about the energy of the crowd drew me in. This was what I had missed— the fun, carefree, rowdy way these men were embracing life. I envied them and I wanted to be a part of their fun. Shoving through the crowd, I made my way to the little chair. Without thinking, I climbed up on it, feeling somewhat protected as I cowered beside the rocky outcrop of the fireplace. I was unbalanced and knocked back by a few elbows from the crowd around me. Angry faces turned to me, but scowls were replaced with grins and delighted tips of beer mugs when they saw a girl interested in their sport. The women of Clonlea must not care too much for their rowdy tavern past time.
    Peeking around the men in front of me, I leaned out as far from the safety of my little alcove along the wall as I could. I was amazed to see the back of the mountainous man’s hand inches from the table, defeat almost certain at that angle. In one last effort, he kicked his chair out from under him, and kneeled on his side of the table. His body shook with the force he threw into his arm. Still, it didn’t budge. The group grew even tighter as the cheering reached a fevered pitch.
    With the ease of shooing away a fly, his opponent closed the remaining few inches between the clasped hands and the table and released his grip victoriously. The tightly packed group erupted like a volcano. Most of the men turned away from the table spewing disgusted curses under their breath. A lone man whistled and clapped in victory, earning nasty glares from his rivals.
    The mountainous man fell to the floor, either in exhaustion or embarrassment. Probably a little bit of both.
    I expected to see a giant ogre seated at