Yeah. You can sleep here, if you want, or we can go back.

Back is good.

She doesn't stand up.

- is the offer to carry me still open?

Always.

(Some warm fuzzy feelings appear, underneath all of the suffocating awful feelings.)

M'just really tired. And I keep doing this thing where - this is the good timeline, you know, so maybe I shouldn't feel like everything is the worst it's ever been, except probably feeling like everything is the worst it's ever been is part of the price of all this, so maybe I should be feeling worse, you know, maybe if I really cared I'd be crying more, and then I think about how I don't want to, like, stand up and stuff, or do things, and maybe that's also a sign of being not OK, and then I think maybe I shouldn't be OK but I am and maybe my brain is covering for me or something and doing stupid things about it like not letting me do basic stuff -

I should sleep. Before I get any dumber about this.

He carries her in.

Humans don't die of grief. Elves do, sometimes, when - when keeping on having a body is just so hard that you can't make yourself keep doing it, it's not about wanting to stop, it's like - letting go of your hold on the side of a cliff after it's been too long. But, like, knowing that some people die of grief, then if you're grieving and it hasn't literally killed you yet you always wonder - is this really what it's like to be sad, though -

I don't know if that's relevant.

Nod.

She's OK, though. She's - probably OK.

M'sure she's okay.

Yeah.

D'you have to be anywhere in the next - I dunno how long exactly -

Nah.

That's good. I mean, it won't help anyone else now, me being slightly less sad about things, but - thank you.

Mmhmm. Squeeze.

Hug.

She keeps being pretty sad, over the course of the next while. She doesn't cry about it. She prays strange aimless prayers that ask for nothing and promise nothing. She talks to Alex about nothing in particular. She writes stories, and then crosses out large chunks of them when she doesn't feel that they're going in the right direction.

He keeps her updated. They're exploring east. They're excavating the ruins of Angband. Ryan's left.

And eventually - 

Well, we found the Silmarils.

That's cool.

Kinda, yeah. They might make me significantly stronger, we'll have to see.

Congrats if so.

- I feel like this really calls for a less bland reaction but I'm not great at correctly reacting to things right now. I'm sure I'd be happier for you if I were more, y'know, together.

It's fine. Just - letting you know when stuff happens.

Yeah. Thank you. I appreciate it.

They bring them back to the fortress two days later. It's hard to miss, because the area lights up as if the sun is rising four hours early. The light is unlike sunlight in that it's whiter, and constantly shifting. It makes the walls look like waterfalls, or something, like there's something rippling across their surface. 

Alex leaves and comes back in a good mood and sits with her and sings.

I'm glad you have them back.

S'good. They'll make stuff better.

She nods.

I should really get around to being less mopey, at some point.

There's magic songs for that. If you want.

No. Thank you.

Her floor is covered in papers with tiny, tiny words on them, the way it was before Alex and Spike and Drusilla and Ryan arrived. None of the stories have put her back together, but some of them have made her feel less like her heart is rotting inside her for lack of use.

When mom and dad died I just sort of - kept doing things until it stopped hurting all the time. But lots of things really needed doing and nobody was doing them, then, so it made more sense.