Guthwine
Guthwine glared back at the retreating figure of Lotar and then fell into reflection.
Would the man never forget that the two of them had set their eyes on the same woman so many years before? Could he never bring himself to stop fighting over something that was dead and buried? That part of this life was over. He had a wife of his own and children whom he loved. His laughter in front of the men had been intended as a gesture of reconciliation. Yet Lotar would seemingly have none of it.
Feanwe....what a beauty she'd been with her long silky curls and her eyes full of laughter, her skirts swinging out like rippling waves as she danced through the night. Let Lotar sulk and do as he wanted. It still did not excuse the fact that, if the man had acted, Feanwe might be alive today.
Could a cat really change his spots? If Lotar acted, Guthwine would not intervene, whatever his personal desires. But if the man hesitated, even once, he would not sit idly by, doing nothing. This time he would act...
To the others, he merely shook off the words with brusqueness and shrugged his shoulders. "Leave him be. Before this is over, there'll be plenty of room for each of us to show our mettle. Let's just hope, for the sake of those back in the Weather Hills, that we can stay the course."
[ November 17, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]
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