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Old 08-13-2008, 09:23 PM   #221
littlemanpoet
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Eodwine

Eodwine listened to Degas relate the tale of the last few months. So much had filled such a short time! Eodwine had seen ships in the harbor at Minas Tirith, and so had a small store from which to imagine Degas' adventures. Far more vivid was his thought of a burned ruin and Degas' and Saeryn's dead brother amid the wreck. But then Degas left off with his tale and began his complaint about his sister. As far as Eodwine could tell, Degas was right: Saeryn was being completely unfair. He was about to say so when Degas began again, speaking of how Saeryn had changed. Eodwine's mind briefly wandered to wondering precisely what the change was (for she and he had not spoken beyond the most general things) and what had caused it, but he was brought back to the present by Degas' next words.

"I do not think it was because she did not love you. I think, perhaps, that she may have loved you almost too much. I think, perhaps, that love terrified her. She has lost every person she has ever loved. What if she lost you as well? I wonder if she left first for that reason; I wonder if she turned from you to save herself from later pain. But now... now I do not know my own sister. I do not know her heart. I do not know her mind."

Eodwine slowed his pace and looked down; Degas slowed a moment later and turned to see him let out a pensive sigh. "Love, you say." He tried to find something to do with his hands, which suddenly seemed not to know how to lay at rest at his side, and he finally folded his arms. "I do not know that she loved me. Nor do I know her heart or mind, Degas. I think that she does not know herself. Her mind seems ruled more than ever by what she feels."

"Such is the way of women, my lord," Degas grinned, perhaps hoping to lighten their talk.

"Not all women, Degas. Not women who know themselves. Your sister does not, I deem, and so I must confess to you that though as lord I succor and love her as well as any other in Scarburg, I am both drawn to her and repelled at once. Maybe, Degas, when you have settled yourself as lord in the Folde, you will wish to have your sister by your side, for she and Linduial became great friends. After all, though I may have doting eyes-" he glanced at Degas with a small grin to see the quick wince of guilt on the young man's face at being reminded of his rash words "- but I am twice her age. An old man! She would do well to find a young man her own age with whom to live out many years rather than with someone who will become an old codger to bathe and feed and change while she is yet young.

"But enough of that. Are you prepared to ask forgiveness of your sister, and to accept her apology once she has sense to give it? For you are both in the wrong."

Last edited by littlemanpoet; 08-13-2008 at 09:27 PM.
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