Bayard looks startled as he gets closer to Lilah and sees not a girl's features but a woman's body in miniature, a woman's strong jaw and vigilant eyes. She reminds him of Druscilla, his cousin, the war widow who, it's said, rides a horse better than any man.
Then he turns on his heel and cries out into the darkness as Sam emerges, relieved and gleeful. "Mister Gamgee! I'm glad you made it out of that scrap."
It's rude to just not answer a question, even when he's been interrupted by a friend, so as he approaches Lilah - just a little bit, not too close - he meets her full-faced.
"I...I don't know?" Look, the people in these places where bizarre clothes. He's wearing what feels like a blanket with chain-mail designs printed on the front in itchy black paint and a helmet that's softer than a decent hat. Yesterday he saw a woman wearing a swan dress, and the swan played theme music at him. "I reckon not...my apologies, ma'am."
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Then he turns on his heel and cries out into the darkness as Sam emerges, relieved and gleeful. "Mister Gamgee! I'm glad you made it out of that scrap."
It's rude to just not answer a question, even when he's been interrupted by a friend, so as he approaches Lilah - just a little bit, not too close - he meets her full-faced.
"I...I don't know?" Look, the people in these places where bizarre clothes. He's wearing what feels like a blanket with chain-mail designs printed on the front in itchy black paint and a helmet that's softer than a decent hat. Yesterday he saw a woman wearing a swan dress, and the swan played theme music at him. "I reckon not...my apologies, ma'am."