[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

[illgotten]

"How are you getting on?"

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.

[lionbright]

"I would like to take your hand." He sighs. "I am so unsettled." Then a short laugh. "That's what you asked, first, isn't it? How I'm getting on?"

[illgotten]

"Aye," looking away again.

[lionbright]

"I am in limbo. I am in a place between. My brother, my real brother, was here for a brief time, but he had come from elsewhen in my world and I made him tell me all about my own death. Not by his hand, thank god. It is not long in coming. So now I dread to stay here, but I dread to go back, as well."

[illgotten]

Mordred throws him a flickering, troubled look. After a moment he says, "You get used to it."

[lionbright]

He looks up. "Do you? I would rather like just to get on with it." He gives another of his brief little laughs. "I suppose I didn't really believe him. I just want to find out what really happens."

[illgotten]

"Trust me, it's really not worth the experiment."

Mordred's died twice now, and the second time was not a great deal of fun either.

[lionbright]

"I didn't say I was looking forward to it."

He pauses, considering, then looks up at Mordred, setting the bow aside. His face is open and honest, and he says seriously, "Can I turn your question around? You asked it unguardedly, and, I think, a little in fear. But can I ask what you want of me?"

[illgotten]

A moment's startled silence. Then, abruptly, "Telemakos hates my insides because I'm not his father."

[lionbright]

Light washes across Lleu's candid face for a moment, and goes out just as quickly, at once delighted by the confidence and realizing how profound a confidence it is.

He shakes his head.

"I don't know Telemakos."

[illgotten]

"He seemed to like you," neutrally. "He just keeps to himself."

[lionbright]

"He was kind. I was not really in a fit state to appreciate it."

A pause.

"He is from my own world. He must be. But he didn't know who I am. Save me, it was the first thing he asked, and neither of us told him."

And another pause...

"... I need to think. How old is he? If he was born the first time Medraut was in Aksum, he is more likely to know me--I am supposed to go there as ambassador next year--"

He looks up, apologetic. "I'm sorry. I am just going on about me. But it could make a difference."

[illgotten]

Mordred gives him a crooked half-smile. "Hard to say. Thirteen or so. But this time last year he was more like ten."

[lionbright]

Lleu works out some possible timelines and is faced with the stark reality that, even if he's not really dead eight years down the line, he clearly doesn't end up as the British ambassador to Aksum.

Now he gets up and crosses the terrace to stand before Mordred, hands resting lightly on his hips, his gaze direct and intense. He says softly, "Why do you care?"

[illgotten]

Mordred looks up at him cautiously. "About what?"

verbal fencing must be in the genes.

[lionbright]

Lleu fights with words pretty much the way he would with a sword: without much feinting.

"Why in blazes do you care what that boy thinks of you? Or not?"