You want to charge off this morning? You did promise me a scriber, you know.

I know a few more days on top of eighteen years and change isn't much of a difference but from how he acted when I was dying I am astonished to have to conclude that he's been eating, let alone churning out storks -

Do most mortals grieve for eighteen years?

It depends, but -

You think he will.

I hope I'm wrong but yeah.

Thanks.

So he does. He only occasionally grouses to Findekáno about how he did not even have enough reasons in his list of reasons this was a terrible idea and there's clearly a lesson there.

There's a dinner in his honor. It's well-attended. It coincides with the start of the festival of the gates.

Yay.

And a few dozen Elves establish themselves in Hresk and Wrebb and set up restaurants and survey the area and go out riding and hunting and it's not too hard for Maitimo and Findekáno to slip away - and kiss walking down every street in the city, just for the novelty of it, once they're far from other Elves - and then find Kib.

And Kib will sit over here with his arms wrapped around his knees, failing repeatedly to read a book and instead staring into space.

It does not seem exactly appropriate to try to lighten the mood.

"Should we wait here?"

"...I might get lost, even Aly didn't know the whole city, but osanwë range would cover it - if you want to wait here that's fine."

"I'd rather be closer," Findekáno says, "in case there's any kind of trouble. Or bad news and then you want to sit there crying for hours."

It's a pretty city. They are holding hands and nothing has happened, that's also pretty lovely.