As we sit at the table waiting for Fangorn to finish his searching, I begin to notice Ithuriel's fingers twitching nervously at his sides, an apprehensive tick forming in the lower swell of his lip, as if suddenly sitting so close to me seemed to make him all too uncomfortable. Of course, the reason why seems all too obvious- the confession is weighing on him. My long talk with Fangorn was certainly time enough to let his conflicted heart mull over each and every word he had uttered, and now it seems all too apparent that he regrets muttering those words at all. In fact, he looks like he wants nothing more than to curl into a ball and sleep out the forthcoming events like a hedgehog in the winter.
Part of me wishes I could do the same.
