...because to the typist's knowledge, no one's yet told him Morvyyd is here ( Read more... )

Lamorak is, in the best tradition of messy breakups, making his way to the kitchens with the intention of getting roaring drunk.  He's sober for now, though, and might actually welcome some company, depending on who it is.

Lamorak is wandering through the gardens, singing. His voice is pleasant, but very clearly untrained: this does not seem to effect either his volume or his enthusiasm. Crackplot is, of course, to blame but Lamorak has no idea.

She probably already knows. He knows this. She'll be angry, he further knows. But none of this changes the fact that he has to go and tell her. So he does. Because it is, on some level, the right thing to do.

He isn't going to hurt him.  Morgause asked him not to, and he isn't.  He had said so.

But Lamorak cannot help it.  He finds himself seeking out the other knight, because he needs to know.  Even though he doesn't really want to.