In the end, it is Achilles who lets fly a sharp bark of laughter.
"No, I was nothing so charming as what you say. I stood a head taller than Lycomedes' eldest daughter and had not one curve, not one bit of softness, in my body. Moreover, I had no skill in women's arts — a disaster with the distaff and loom!"
Again he shakes his noble head, and his countenance settles into seriousness as he retraces the festering shame of those long ago years.
"No, I could not remain hidden for long. For all that my mother wished to protect me, it killed me — more slowly than the death-stroke of a spear, yes, but just as surely — to deny my own name, to abdicate Peleus' too. How I burned to follow the path to glory such that Fate promised me! How I longed to tear the hateful disguise from my body and declare for all the house to hear, 'I am Achilles, son of Peleus!'"
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"No, I was nothing so charming as what you say. I stood a head taller than Lycomedes' eldest daughter and had not one curve, not one bit of softness, in my body. Moreover, I had no skill in women's arts — a disaster with the distaff and loom!"
Again he shakes his noble head, and his countenance settles into seriousness as he retraces the festering shame of those long ago years.
"No, I could not remain hidden for long. For all that my mother wished to protect me, it killed me — more slowly than the death-stroke of a spear, yes, but just as surely — to deny my own name, to abdicate Peleus' too. How I burned to follow the path to glory such that Fate promised me! How I longed to tear the hateful disguise from my body and declare for all the house to hear, 'I am Achilles, son of Peleus!'"