Gamba's head swam as he looked up into Lassiël's eyes; she was over twice his height. He wondered what on earth he should do. This wasn't going to be the Sprinkle Ring, he guessed, nor would it be the Levanto game with only the two of them playing (although, he thought suddenly, he would have given his very blood to play Levanto while Lassiël played Piosenniel, but he quickly dismissed that thought.)
What to do? He didn't care. He would be a fool; he would trip over himself (but hopefully not over her!); he would put up with any possible embarassment, to only look back on this time for the rest of his life and know that he had actually danced with an elf-maiden, starlight or no starlight! Her eyes provided all the starlight he would need.
Some vague awareness of the ground beneath one's feet was normally needed for dancing, but Gamba had compeltely forgotten that such a thing existed.
[ September 23, 2002: Message edited by: mark12_30 ]
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...down to the water to see the elves dance and sing upon the midsummer's eve.
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