Posco shook his head. "We live close by Brandy Hall, though," he said. "If I found a map here I could show you where we lived." He paused and stared in confusion at her. He didn't know what to say next. He felt as though he should say something but felt too shy. Her eyes were smiling encouragingly and kindly at him. The silence was becoming unbearable. He had to say something. Before considering exactly what he was saying, he blurted out, "You have lovely eyes, Miss Lily." And then he stopped abruptly and turned red with shame. He didn't think that was the kind of thing you said to a hobbit lass. Only if you were her sweetheart. Maybe she already had a husband and would be offended. He dropped his eyes and did not look at her.
Marcho could see that Twylight was deliberately ignoring him and it angered him. Putting his mug down, he jumped off his chair and went to the other end of the room by a window, glaring defiantly out. The sun was setting and a westerly wind rustled through the branches of the trees. The shadows were beginning to lengthen and cast themselves boldly over the green grass. Supper would be served soon.
Marcho felt his anger seeping out of him and to some annoyance found himself pained at Twylight's obvious disgust with him. He knew it was his own fault that nobody cared for him, but he wished it were not so. Lily's fierce eyes as she told him exactly what she thought of him... that he bore easily. But Twylight's silence... a silence that spoke of thoughts of disgust and avoidance. He knew he could not be kind to others, but he did not want them to think such things of him. He would keep to himself for the remainder of the evening.
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