Lleu is making bows. Collecting firewood with Florence gave him the idea. This is work his marksman brother taught him, so these are reasonably strong and balanced; maybe not for anything as big as deer, or wolf, but certainly well-made enough to kill rabbit or fowl. He is minded of several reasons it might be a good idea to arm himself: Kay's
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Here's somebody he's met, at least -- though Mordred in his current mood is nearly as different from the snappish little man on the porch as he is from Lleu's brother. He stands a little way off, hands in his pockets, expression mild.
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"As you see." A pause. Then in a low voice he adds, "I am learning how my aunt must feel about her exile."
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"Just... being idle, with nothing expected of you by anyone unless you beg favors of them, and no one knowing or caring whether you come or go. And you can't escape it. You're just left with yourself."
A breathless little laugh escapes him.
"At least it isn't the Orcades."
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Mordred half-smiles. "That it's not." He moves to sit down, not too close. "But you're right. Boredom is the worst of it."
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A pause. He adds, with a ghost of the wicked, bewitching grin that irks his brother to distraction, "She was being polite, you see."
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and the flashed smile is gone, as he remembers what followed.
"She did not know me, any more than anyone else does, but she pretended that she did, at first. So as not to hurt me."
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That would be Sam Spade. Well, you had to ask.
"And, I think, my father and mother. But they did not know me, either."
A pause.
"And your mother."
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