Of course, if the monster were really friendly, as it now seemed to be,
John faced a really horrifying dilemma, worse in some ways than if it were
ravening. There was no precedent in any of the tales and songs for dealing with
a friendly monster. Of course, you killed monsters, but then they were always
trying to kill you. Might it not be dishonourable to, as it were, murder one?
On the other hand, it was practically a Sacred Duty to slay monsters. God’s
Legs, they practically existed to be slain. It might be a craven and cowardly
act not to kill it. On the other hand, it was looking at him so trustingly, he
didn’t think he could do it even if armed with the sword that in his minds’ eye
he could see so clearly, propped in a corner of the solar, the cheerful flames
dancing off its gleaming scabbard from the fireplace.
Suddenly John wanted a hot bath more than anything in the world.
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