How it began

I was first introduced to Belegarth as a Freshman in college. It was not through the fanfare of U of I’s Quad Day, a sea of wide-eyed hopefuls seeking their fortune, but at our local realm’s opener. At the time I didn’t even know the name “Numenor”, but it would come to define most of my days at the university.

My first experience was completely uneventful. I had been invited by an old high school friend who had already fought for a year, asking me to to watch over his things and take pictures if I’d like. He figured I’d enjoy it; after all, I was known for being a lover of medieval warfare. So I came along for the ride, sitting quietly by the treeline and waiting for him to finish. It was fun to watch, but I didn’t know when practices were or how I would get involved, and it quickly fell from my mind. The year came and went, filled with struggles around classes and friends, Belegarth completely forgotten.

The next year, a woman I had just met in my major invited me to the “Numenor Combat Club” because they were having a big event. Not thinking much of it, I again trudged out to the field, silently watching the battles rage on and again idly wondering how people got involved in this. Like the last year, I was approached by no one, left to watch over her things on my own. Unfortunately, her hand was stepped on and broken at this opener, which ended her time in the club for several months. And so I forgot about Belegarth for yet another year.

The third year, though, was different. I was invited by my boyfriend at the time, who recently started living with a very talented Belegrim. I remember him telling me that his roommate had even won some money at Belegarth tournaments. Intrigued, I followed him to the opener, suddenly remembering this event from my previous two years. But this time, as I sat down to watch back in the trees, the student president of Numenor sat down next to me. He wasn’t a Knight of Numenor, as I would learn later, but he tried to make sure things ran smoothly with the university. He noticed I had a camera and handed me a yellow tabard.

“Go take pictures. Don’t worry, they won’t hurt you if you wear this.”

I was shocked. Someone had noticed me! Thanking him quietly, I put on the tabard, finally moving within a few feet of the field to take better photos. Just a few battles later, he came by again:

“I give you that tabard and you’re way over here? Come on…”

It took all my courage not to protest as he dragged me between the two lines, just as “lay on” was called. I cringed in fear as two teams of heavily armored men marched in my direction, feeling an occasional arrow whiz by my head as leaders shouted orders at new fighters. Standing there, shell-shocked in the midst of it all, I took some of the best pictures I have ever taken at a Belegarth event. It was exhilarating and terrifying, chaotic and awesome.

Shaking as I stepped off the field, I handed the tabard back to him, saying, “Thank you. I think I might want a shield next time, though. It’s scary out there!”

And he laughed, replying, “They might try to hit you if you do that.”

Just with that, I was hooked. I still didn’t know the name of this ridiculous game or how I would fit in it, but I knew I wanted to be a part of it. From then on, I could never look away from the field - fighting was my obsession, even if I would never stand side-by-side with those awe-inspiring warriors.

A man whose name I didn’t even know changed my life, just by handing me a yellow tabard. Never think you can’t do the same for someone else.