She does talk to Rána about it first, though.

"I'm kind of unclear on - I mean I don't know any of the relevant considerations? At home I'd just pick something reliably popular of the appropriate length, but I don't know what fairies find most interesting. Or whether there's anything else I should be thinking about, here, besides debt, which I continue to have only the vaguest possible sense of."

"So our current debt situation is that food for two people for the night will be outrageously costly, and everything else is going to be kind of window dressing, next to that. Which means everyone can listen to as many of your stories as they'd like, so I guess that's good. I think people will like most of them. Adventures are interesting. Fighting is interesting. The gods are all interesting but might confuse people, since it's more - clear that you're saying things that can't actually be true, even though of course you say that before you start."

Nod. "Then I suppose I should start gesturing in the direction of paying any of it off. There's the Odyssey, if you think that'd go over well, I know I told you part of it."

"I liked that one."

"All right, then."

She can tell Rána's father that she has something picked out.

"Oh, good!"

The banquet hall is crowded when everyone is present. They all speak in whispers, so it's not loud, but all the voices make the crowding more noticeable anyway. There's a fortune in food, of course, and wine, and nectars, and everything glitters. Rána sits in a corner and watches her anxiously and scowls. Everyone else looks extraordinarily cheerful; of course, stories are probably a rare treat. 

Rána being worried is kind of worrying, but if there's one thing in all the world that she can do right, it's performing epic poetry for a feast.

She begins by telling them that she is telling the story of the human hero Odysseus and his journey home, after the ancient war between Greece and Troy, and that she is telling it as it was told to her. And then she gives them the Odyssey, in its entirety, every trial and setback and clever solution, until her hero has made it safely home to his son and his devoted wife.

Her audience is fascinated and appreciative and increasingly drunk. Rána relaxes eventually. 

That seems good? 

When she's finished she can go over and sit by him and maybe rest her voice.

"It's a wonderful story. You were great."

"I'm glad. They seemed to like it."

"Because it's wonderful!. "I'm nobody" - I wouldn't want to try that but it feels like it might be allowed -"

Eee. "It's a favorite for a reason, yes."

"Go on and have something to eat. And drink."

"Thank you." So she eats. She kind of needs to, it was a very long poem.

After that there is dancing. Does she want to join in the fairy dancing.

She will maybe at least try fairy dancing, yeah.

Fairy dancing is slightly bewildering but luckily everyone else is drunk so she's actually above average at it!

Oh good. That's probably all right, then.

And eventually people retire, usually not alone, giggling and retelling stories from the Odyssey.

Well, she feels like that all went pretty well. She'll just hang out with Rána until he feels like heading back.

Heading back sounds good. "Lots of people find that their sleep schedules end up all odd, at night."

Yawn. "I see. I don't know that I have much of a sleep schedule without the sun. But maybe I didn't for a while, because, well, baby."

"Babies seem like a lot of work."

"Yeah. But you get to see them become whole new people, that's nice."