Reynion felt like laughing for the first time in months. No, years really. Morlathion was so clumsy and good-natured, it was impossible to dislike him. Even if he'd been the reason that Reyn had ended up on the floor in the first place. Still, his antics almost made him smile.
It was odd. Years ago, he'd have made some sort of cutting remark. Probably something touching on Morlathion's intelligence, if not altogether offensive. That, however, had been before he lost his leg. It seemed unfair to make fun of others, now that he'd had something of a taste of it himself.
The younger elves stared as he passed, watching him limp along the corridor, pointing and giggling. Reynion tried to ignore them. Really, how was it different from the former looks of superiority from the nobles? Like Gilbereth.
He winced away from that thought, and all memories associated with it. This was no time to think of such things, it was a party, a celebration. So why did he feel so miserable?
Reynion shook his head, suddenly realizing that the other elf had said something to him. "I beg pardon, what was that, eh...Morlathion?"
[ August 07, 2003: Message edited by: Tinuviel of Denton ]
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