With a sigh, Lotho picked himself up from the ground and dusted himself off. Fortunately, his arms and limbs were intact, but the same thing could not be said for his jacket. He frowned as he checked himself over. His very favorite jacket, and he had gotten a long rip in it. His mother would be quite displeased. What very bad luck, indeed!
This was not how things were supposed to happen! He had intended to chase Belle across the outskirts of the village and give her a real scare, perhaps get her so scared that she would lose the invitations, which she had been clutching in her small hand.
He hadn't expected to go crashing into her and send her hurtling to the ground. But there had been a large rock standing in the middle of the path, and he could not avoid it. He had tripped and gone flying forward, landing with a "plop" on top of the girl.
As he looked down at Belle, he could see the child was not in the best of shape. Her arm was twisted in a strange position, and she seemed to be out cold. Now, Lotho was not a stupid or ignorent hobbit. He definitely knew what he should have done. If his mother had been lying there, he would have assisted her, or at least run off to find someone to help him handle the situation.
He knew very well that he should help Belle, but he also realized that no one must find out what he had done to the girl, even if it was an accident. How would he explain the long rip in his jacket and his own bleeding hands?
Best stay out of it altogether and let someone else deal with the injured girl. He grinned and walked back over to where Belle was lying unconscious. He wiggled the packet of invitations out of her hand, and slipped them into his waistcoat pocket. Then, he went behind a nearby tree to hide, and keep an eye on what was going on.
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Multitasking women are never too busy to vote.
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