|
When Dagonet was a boy, he towered over all the rest, dwarfing them even when he was a child. As a man, he stands head and shoulders above them all still. Bors, who is smaller and rounder, is full of bluster, loud and brash when he speaks. Dagonet does not believe that Bors has ever spoken in less than a shout, probably showering Vanora with sweet nothings that echo through their chambers loud enough to deafen. With his height, everyone cowered away from Dagonet, unwilling to be close to the giant, so he borrowed a secret from Lancelot. Whenever a wild horse would shy away, Lancelot would speak softly to it, barely heard so the horse would draw nearer. This is how Dagonet speaks, his words a low, gravelly whisper that invites people in to hear what he says, his voice stranger for the fact that, even in this manner, he does not use it often. Children especially show no fear of him, or perhaps use him to gauge their bravery. Lancelot laughingly informs him that they are merely drawn to like minds, though his eyes hold none of the sharpness that comes with cutting remarks that he means. Dagonet merely smiles at the jab anyway, remembering as clearly as the smaller knight the night that, as a boy, Lancelot had moved beside him, listened to his soft voice and fallen asleep against Dagonet, neither of them mentioning the hard bruises that marred Lancelot's skin. Tristan is the master of saying nothing, and Dagonet the master of saying no more than needs to be said. He is also a keeper of secrets, which is why the children trust him, and why Lancelot comes to him when there are more things that need not be said. |
|
|