[open]

[lionbright]

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

Comments

[unhappysteward]

Kay isn't looking for him specifically, but when he sees Lleu, he'll certainly come over. The more he watches the boy, the more he can see that, at least somehow, the boy is telling the truth.

Gruffly, he says, "Are you settling in, then?"

[lionbright]

Kay would probably be embarrassed to know it, but his unemotional organizational presence is a lifeline for this kid.

"Yes, sir." He looks up, and shakes the hair from his eyes. "I think so."

[unhappysteward]

He nods. "Good. Found something... productive to do, I see."

[lionbright]

"I had to do something." --frankly.

"They're not very strong, and I am not much of a marksman. But you said there was hunting to be had."

[unhappysteward]

He nods, with a touch of real approval. At least someone feels the need to be productive. "There's some game. But we've a schedule, to try and keep idiots from over-hunting what's here. I give you some time, if you like."

[lionbright]

"Yes, thank you. I am your servant."

He pauses, and adds rather shyly, "My one true skill is in my swordwork, though God be thanked I have not had to prove myself in battle. I wondered if I might practice. I am taught..." He corrects himself carefully. "Was taught by Bedwyr, in my own place."

when he calls it his "one true skill" he is being excessively modest. In his own world he has long since outstripped all his tutors, and for well over a year has been considered matchless throughout Britain.

...swords in general being a subject about which his typist knows not a damn thing, so puleeze don't get technical with him... :p

[unhappysteward]

"Bedwyr is around somewhere or other, though I don't know if he'll know you. I'm no good as duelist, but Beaumains may oblige you. Lamorak's around somewhere too." He snorts. "Might be good for him, have someone his own level to fight."

[lionbright]

"Beaumains?"

[unhappysteward]

"Sir Gareth."

[lionbright]

He laughs. "Gareth! really? I shall be caught off guard by someone soon; I think I know you all, but I don't."

He pauses, and frowns.

"But I don't know Lamorak."

He won't know Lancelot, either.

[unhappysteward]

"Lamorak was one of the best fighters, early on. 'Till he got killed." And that's all Kay's going to say about it, because frankly, the Orkneys and their drama are not his concern.

[lionbright]

"Oh."

Ok, that makes no sense. It hasn't occurred to him that anyone he's met here might be dead. It is hard enough taking on board that they don't all come from the same world.

"But he's here now."

[unhappysteward]

"Yeah. It's damn unnerving, but."

[lionbright]

Suddenly serious, Lleu asks:

"Do you all know your own deaths?"

[unhappysteward]

"I'm not dead yet. Most of us aren't, that I know of."

[lionbright]

With cool, regal reproach, the boy corrects him:

"That is not what I asked."

There is no arrogance in his manner, only customary and sure authority; and if Kay had never seen anything of Arthur in him before, he would see it now.