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Old 09-21-2008, 06:41 PM   #94
Legate of Amon Lanc
A Voice That Gainsayeth
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Join Date: Nov 2006
Location: In that far land beyond the Sea
Posts: 7,162
Legate of Amon Lanc has passed beneath the Argonath.Legate of Amon Lanc has passed beneath the Argonath.Legate of Amon Lanc has passed beneath the Argonath.Legate of Amon Lanc has passed beneath the Argonath.Legate of Amon Lanc has passed beneath the Argonath.Legate of Amon Lanc has passed beneath the Argonath.
After receiving the not-at-all-gentle smack to his back from the rich-haired lass from the group, Michael finally caught his breath. His color was still changing, from regaining the lost air as well as from the embarassment he felt for causing such a commotion. As his saviour patted him rather friendly on the back, Michael managed to produce a faint "thank you" from his throat, along with the last piece of breakfast that remained there. He wanted to say more, the thoughts rushed inside him, but engulfed in total chaos and still not fast enough. Before he could come up with anything to say, the hobbit lass turned away with a smile and left the room.

Michael spent a short time trying to calm himself down, both from the struggle for breath and from all the other events that happened during the breakfast. He wasn't very succesful. However, suddenly one thought struck him with unexpected power, and chased away all the other thoughts: the travelers are gone! Alarmed even more than before, Michael jumped off from the table. However, at the very same moment, the figure of that other young male hobbit appeared in the doorway. Michael stood like frozen, as the guest walked slowly towards him, then stepped aside and sat back at the group's table. Michael gave out a quiet sigh of relief, and as it seemed that the travelers are not leaving yet, he picked up his empty cup and went to the back of the room. When he was returning a minute later with a mug of fresh milk, the hobbit was still sitting there.

Now it is the time to think of something, Michael thought as he sat down to his table. Are they going to invite me to their table, after all? Would it be possible for me to be so lucky? But right now, it seemed as if everybody had disappeared somewhere, except for that hobbit who was just sitting not that far from Michael's table. Perhaps this one - now that he is alone here - would be good to talk to? But how can I talk to them when I have lied to them before? And what should I say anyway? Such thoughts were rushing through the young tramp's head.

You could lie, something whispered to him suddenly. You could lie once again and tell them that you may accompany them and show them the way where they need it... They won't realise. The Shire sure looks all the same in the Northfarthing, where they are heading, too. You can make up something.

Childish fool, something else told him. Also, something pressed his chest, as he thought about lying again. He felt miserable. But was there any other way? He felt as if he were pulled against his own will. With clenched fists and teeth, he got up from the table, and with a few steps, he stood next to the now lone traveler's seat.

"Excuse me, sir," Michael realised his own voice is trembling more than usual, but that could not stop him from speaking. He felt like an observer, whatever was happening did not come from him.
"I have been talking with your friend, Rudy, and... miss Bunny... And now I remembered," that was the first lie – he certainly did not remember, but had his mind on it all the time, "that I overheard you talking about the North Moors." The pace of Michael's speech was increasing and increasing, while his sight was dimming and red and black wheels started to appear in front of his eyes. "And I thought if perhaps you could use somebody else to accompany you, somebody who has the knowledge of the places. I do." And that was the end. Michael felt as if he were just drowned into a hot, boiling water and he was not far from collapsing right on the floor. He felt his heart somewhere in his stomach, and he felt the sweat from his palms soaking the hems of his vest, as he clasped them. That was the end. He could not think any more. He could not do anything more. The only thing that could happen was... that something would happen.
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