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Date Posted: 01:01:15 05/29/05 Sun
Author: Tathan
Subject: I could ask the same about Tildeo...
In reply to: Nerilki(Avianyth) Hythe(Ith) Shah Grean 's message, "Who's 'Zarquoun'? muses" on 11:07:12 05/28/05 Sat

“Nah, miss.” Tathan shook his head at Hythe’s question. Nobody needed to introduce themselves to him, after all. He was only a drudge. Making a mental note to keep an eye on Hythe’s children next time they were in the kitchens, the young man watched with his usual wariness as Grean made his rather messy entrance. This boy’s – and all the other Weyr-children’s – childhoods couldn’t be more different from his own, he reflected. At Grean’s age he was shooting a bow, being taught how to skin an animal, setting traps, and doing his level best to hide from every other male he knew. If he’d done fighting of any sort, it was probably against someone who really wanted to hurt him. Not for the first time, Tath wished he had been born in a Weyr or Hold, rather than into a Holdless group.

An observer could probably have seen a lot of each person’s personality, from the way they sat down. Hythe looked like a woman taking a long-awaited rest, Nerilki looked calm with her embroidery, and Tathan sat cross-legged and hunched-up, tensed and wary, his arms protectively hugging his body. He looked like he wanted nothing more than to disappear or hide. Which, in truth, he did. Maybe he should make up an excuse to leave, before things got to strange for him, he wondered. It would probably be the easiest thing to do.

But maybe he should stay for a bit, to see what happened. And he could always leave if they started talking to him too much. Tath moved his hand a little, and realised that he still held some of the blanket from before. So he brought the hopeless tangle of wool in front of him, his posture not relaxing even a bit, and began to have a go at working out the knots. But he didn’t way anything. Tath only ever spoke if he’d been spoken to first.

((Hehe. I can pretty much recite the radio series. I was raised on it. The books are nothing to that…it rules.
Share and Enjoy
Share and Enjoy,
Share and Enjoy,
Journey through life with a plastic boy
Or girl by your side
Let your pal be your guide!
And when it breaks down or starts to annoy
Or grinds when it moves and gives you no joy
‘Cause it’s ripped up your hat
Or had *** with your cat
Bled oil on your wall
Or ripped off your door
And you get to the point you can’t stand any more:
Bring it to us!
We won’t do a thing!
We’ll tell you:
“Go stick your head in a pig!”
Yeah…maybe not the BEST example of the genius of Douglas Adams. But he is a genius.))

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