A look of pain flashed across Reynion's face. "You know something, Morlathion?" he asked humorlessly. "You seem to have a positive genius for asking the questions I don't want to answer..." He trailed off, remembering exactly why he didn't want to answer that particular question.
Greenwood. He missed his home, the great oaks standing tall, the slender beeches that always seemed to dance, the silver birches. He sometimes wondered if he would ever go back, but always, there was some reason not to. His leg was most prominent when he thought of reasons never to return. His father was another, though somewhat less important. And then there was her. He wouldn't go back and face Tau--her again, not like this. Not crippled. It would never work.
He rubbed his temples. It seemed that he could never get away from the shadow of the mission. It was no wonder that he'd begun to drink. It was the only way he could find to forget, even for a little while, the faces of the elves who never came back from that trek into Greenwood. No, no, it was Mirkwood now. Even with the shadow of the Dark Lord driven out.
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08-09-2003, 01:22 AM
Hybrid Mode
