#don't worry Tossdir is fine

[a-lonely-dunedain]

finally! the long put off awaited continuation of the Reverse Amnesia Loop I left on an unfortunate cliffhanger despite promising @hallothere I would continue it! (oops) Wherein Tossdir doing something reckless actually ends up helping yay

sorry my brain stopped letting me Write Words for a bit. again. anyway I feel like I'm rusty but idk. this kept getting So Long.

He knows.

You have no idea how, but he knows.

The man you ran into on the street a few moments ago, the one built like a siege tower, looked at you a bit strangely before you took off. You didn’t think much of it, but then he called after you, and when you started running, so did he.

You can only think of one reason he would be pursuing you, and that is that he somehow knows you stole that relic from the Houses of Lore earlier today. 

You didn’t think anyone would have noticed it was gone so soon, you didn’t think anyone would have been able to track you down so quickly. You figured you would be able to stay out of sight until tonight, and then no one would have any way of knowing it was you. But you couldn’t stay locked in the cisterns all day, you needed food, but you realize you made a mistake in coming out here.

You duck and weave between vendor stalls and stacks of crates in an effort to lose him. For a moment you think it works, but the next moment you see him still on your tail.

Really, you shouldn’t even be running. You don’t have the relic with you, you’ve already hidden it far away so there’s no longer any risk to anyone here. If he catches you he might turn you over to the guards, but they’ll just forget, and you’ll be able to slip away tonight like you did the last time something like this happened.

You nearly knock over someone's produce display in your haste, and you sputter out an apology to the owner without slowing your pace.

The sensible thing to do would simply be to turn yourself over and spend the rest of the day locked up –hell, you might even get a meal out of it– but you are operating on instinct now, which has ever held mastery over what little sense is contained in that thick skull of yours. Currently, it has decided that you’re going to behave like a scared rabbit. Maybe you would be a little braver if you had your friends with you, if Ethedis Faeron or Bregadir were here, but you do not have friends or a family anymore. They do not know you.

When fleeing into the crowded areas proves fruitless, you duck into an alleyway and attempt to lose him in the narrow backstreets. This would be easier if you knew the ways of the city better, but unfortunately, you do not. 

Still, you manage to lose sight of him for a little bit. You stop with your hands on your knees, gasping for breath. Did you lose him? You might have lost him- wait no, there he is. 

You hiss obscenities under your breath that Meneldir would have scolded you for, and take off again.

You may be faster than him, but he is far more persistent. Always a few steps behind you, always. You know you won’t be able to outlast him. You stumble, fall, and land on your leg crooked. You find yourself unable to stand right away, then not two moments later the tall man is kneeling in front of you. 

You flinch when his hand grips your shoulder, but he doesn't seem to have it in mind to hurt you just yet, just holding you in place in case you plan to start running again.

“Alright, now that I have your attention,” his voice is calm and steady, he’s not even breathing hard. Looks like he did not break a sweat in the chase. You find yourself more terrified of him. “care to tell me what that was all about?” he asks calmly, seeming more annoyed and confused than anything else.

You just blink in bewilderment. Does he… does he not know about the stolen relic? Then why would he have bothered following you? Also why is his hand so cold?

“I could- ask the same thing of you-” you manage to gasp out. “Why on earth were you chasing me?”

“I needed to speak to you, and I would not have chased you if you did not run. I did not mean to frighten you, but it was important. Now, I think you owe me an answer or two.”

After taking a moment to steady your breathing you mutter under your breath “Doesn't matter. You will not remember anyway.”

“What did you say?” he asks almost before the words have left your mouth. Did it sound like you were making some kind of veiled threat? It might have, it was probably a mistake saying that out loud. 

“It’s- there is something wrong with me.” you stammer, “Every night, people forget I exist. It’s some sort of-”

“-a curse?” recognition and dread in his voice.

You nod. He releases your shoulder, and his expression becomes much softer. Sad, too. 

“Not you too…” he says with a weary sigh. “I felt that chill when I ran into you on the street, I thought you might have some connection to it. Sorry to see I was right.”

“You were cursed too...?” That would explain why you didn’t recognize him, despite how much like a Ranger he looks and sounds. Your heart sinks into your stomach at the realization that another of your kin has fallen into this fate. Had he gone to Mordor with you? Or was he cursed when you foolishly brought the relic back to the city? Either way this is probably your fault. You feel sick. 

He nods solemnly. “Then I am doubly sorry for frightening you. I imagine this has been a trying few weeks for you already.” you nod again, though seems like a bit of an understatement. “Although, that still does not explain why you ran from me. I know I can be rather intimidating at times, but surely it was not just that.”

You take a deep breath. You have a lot of explaining to do, and you’re not sure how he’s going to react 

“I guess there’s no sense in hiding it from you. I stole a relic from the houses of lore earlier today, and I thought you had somehow found out and were after me for that reason.”

Corunir just looks at you for a moment, searching your expression in the hopes that what you said was merely a poor jest. To his dismay, he finds you are being dead-serious "Please tell me you're not talking about the relic I think you're talking about... The one I retrieved from Mordor."

"No, I'm talking about the one I retrieved from Mordor."

The two of you make eye contact for an uncomfortably long moment.

"...The one we retrieved from Mordor."

He pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration "I sincerely hope you had a good reason for taking it. How many more people might be exposed to it-"

"What about the scholars? Were they not at risk too?” you quickly point out “That is the reason I took it, so I could hide it someplace safer."

He shakes his head with an exasperated sigh “It was safer in the Houses. No one was allowed near it, it was only myself, Ethedis, and presumably you who were ever let in there. No one else-”

“-No one that we know of.” you snap a look at him, sharp enough to cut stone. “If any of the other scholars, or anyone else on the Sage’s Tier had been cursed, would we have any way of knowing?”

"No, I suppose we..." he trails off, then a look of horror slowly creeps onto his face “I… I fear you may be onto something. How did I not realize before… I remember bringing the relic to the Houses for safekeeping, but I cannot remember who specifically I handed it off to when I arrived. How could I have been so foolish…” Now that he mentions it, you realize you share the same gap in your memory. At least one other person besides the two of you has been cursed then.

“Perhaps the curse itself is what prevented you from seeing it?” you offer “It seems quite good at concealing memories, after all.”

He looks away and mutters something under his breath “Yeah. It was probably the curse.” His voice is flat, he doesn't sound like he really believes that. 

But in all fairness, you think it is perfectly likely that the curse may be covering its tracks, clouding his judgment to prevent him from putting the pieces together or something like that. Of course you cannot provide any proof to that theory besides ‘it just kinda makes sense’, but he strikes you as an intelligent man, and you have a hard time believing he wouldn’t have figured this out sooner unless something was actively hindering him. If he and Ethedis had been spending more time around the relic than you, it makes a lot of sense. 

Wait, Ethedis?

“Hold on, did you say Ethedis had been near it?”

“You know her?”

“Of course I do! She’s my best friend- well, was, at least. Don’t tell me you actually let her near that thing…”

“Only twice, and only because she insisted. I had hoped that between the two of us we could break the enchantment quickly, and I would not need to risk her being around it for long. But this has proved far more complicated…” and now you’ve gone and complicated things further.

“I guess I’m in no position to judge you for that then, considering my own reckless actions…”

“Well, do you have it with you?”

“Alright I’m not that reckless, give me a little credit at least. It’s hidden away in the cisterns. They were the only place I could think of to put it. Few venture down there and sections of it extend deep into the mountains. I thought there at least it might be far enough away from anyone else.”

“I see why you did it, but that’s going to be a big problem for us… I would likely need the relic on hand if I am to have any hope of breaking the curse, and if I will not remember having this conversation, then I will likely never find it again. Please tell me you had some sort of plan.”

“I… hadn’t thought that far ahead. I’m no loremaster, I know nothing about curses, my only concern had been trying to hide it away-”

“Then there is no time to lose.” he stands, offering you a hand to help you to your feet “Take me to where you’ve hidden the relic, I will simply have to find a way to break the curse before tonight.” 

“That hardly seems a ‘simple’ task…” you test your leg a bit as he helps you stand. It still aches a little bit, but not badly. You should be able to walk this off. “Did you have some new breakthrough?”

“Not exactly. But there was one thing I had not attempted yet, perhaps for good reason. I was reluctant to try before, as I feared it might pose a risk to the nearby scholars if my theory was correct… but seeing as the relic is isolated in the cisterns, I will not need to worry about that.” 

“Oh good, Something dangerous then!” you smile grimly “what is it you plan on doing?”

“I will explain on the way, we should be going now.”

Reasonably, you might want to learn what this man you only think you know is planning before venturing down into the cisterns with him, but since when were you ever considered reasonable?

So nevertheless, you start leading him to the nearest entrance to the cisterns. You notice some strange looks from a few people on the street who witnessed your chase earlier, but neither of you pay them much heed. You’ve gotten out of the habit of caring about your reputation, subconsciously assuming nothing will be remembered.

The two of you properly introduce yourselves as you walk. You learn that his name is Corunir, and he was once a part of Golodir’s Company. Apparently he was the one who first called for aid from the south, and helped you and Ethedis discover the secrets of the stone hearts of the Watchers. You thought it had been one of the Trév Gállorg you first spoke to in Aughaire, but you don’t actually remember who it was now that you think about it. That at least adds up with his story then.

“You know of the stone hearts?” he asks, almost surprised.

“Yes, I was there with Ethedis when we first discovered their secrets and crossed the Rammas.”

“Hm. it is as I thought, then. The three of us must have fought together in the War, as I remember the same thing only without you.”

“That’s what I thought too. But what do the Watching Stones have to do with any of this?”

“I’ll admit it’s a stretch, but I’ve suspected that the relic might actually be of a similar nature to the stone hearts. Not the same thing of course, or I would have recognized it immediately, but an item designed to hold a different kind of fell spirit perhaps.”

You do agree it’s a stretch. The relic seemed nothing like a stone heart. For one thing, it’s not even a stone. It is a small, seemingly empty, iron box you couldn’t open. An air of fell magic surrounded it, but it did not have the same sort of… feeling. It wasn’t the same as the stone hearts. The heart made you feel sick when you touched it, a nauseous dread in the pit of your stomach that threatened to rile up into blind panic. The box from Mordor though, was just cold. Not a natural kind of cold, but that’s still all it was. Deceptively harmless.

But, Corunir seems to know more about this sort of thing than you do, perhaps he could pick up on something you could not.

“So, if you’re right about this, I might actually be able to fistfight the source of the curse? Finally, something suited to my skill set!”

He laughs grimly “Perhaps, but we should still be cautious. I have never heard of a spirit with powers such as these, if we must do battle with it we should be prepared for anything. There’s no telling how powerful it truly is, if it is indeed a spirit we’re dealing with.”

“You don’t need to kill my confidence like that.”

“Overconfidence is far more likely to kill you.” he observes plainly

You almost scoff, not quite though “You sound like my brother.”

He raises an eyebrow “Is that a compliment or an insult?”

You shrug “it’s both, I think.” 

You come to the door leading down to the cisterns and open it. Home sweet home, or at least it has been for the last few weeks.

“Aren’t these usually locked?” Corunir asks, following close behind you.

You glance back at him “They are, but I broke the lock and no one ever fixed it.”

His brow furrows, and you’re not sure why he seems so concerned “So they even forget about the things we touch now…?” he mutters, seemingly not directed at you.

“It’s probably not that.” you rush to assure, though he might be onto something “with everything else down here that was damaged in the siege, I’m sure something small like this was just very low on the list of priorities.” you shake your head as you continue down the dark, damp steps. You know the way down well enough that you do not bother waiting for your eyes to adjust to the dark before venturing deeper in. “At any rate, even if it is the curse’s doing, we will not give it the chance to progress any further.” you sound as confident as ever, but it does not seem to be rubbing off on your ‘new’ friend. He says nothing.

He remains mostly silent as you make your way further beneath the city. Going down here from the bustling streets of the city is always a jarring change, the stone suffocates any sound from up top, and all at once you are accompanied only by the echoing of your footsteps, the occasional drip of cold water, and stale musty air.

“Do you have a weapon?" he eventually asks, only just now seeming to notice that you're unarmed "We’re expecting a fight after all, I should hope you have some means to defend yourself.”

“I will not need anything besides my arms. I’m a brawler, far more comfortable with hand-to-hand fighting.” Well, that might have been true a few months ago, but at Bregadir's urging after Tur-Morva you have preferred to use your sword more frequently, especially when you face foes of an inhuman variety. But you do not have that option now. You notice Corunir giving you a doubtful look in the halflight.

“...what? You doubt that I can banish a spirit by hitting it really hard?” you realize how ridiculous your plan sounds when said aloud, but you choose to ignore it. And besides, in your defense, you have punched spirits before. Fists are far more effective in situations like this than many would initially believe.

“Do you at least own a sword?" His voice is clearly filled with worry, and you're not sure whether you should feel insulted or comforted by it. "I think I would feel better if you had the option of wielding one should the need arise.”

“I do but…” You try to hide the pained expression that crosses your face at the mention of it, but fail. “I… do not have it at the moment.” you reluctantly admit “Earlier I tried to go to Mithrendan for help, but I did a poor job of explaining myself. He recognized my sword as once belonging to my mother, but as he had no memory of me it seemed to him that I must have stolen it or worse… he actually got me arrested for it, and I imagine my sword is still in his possession, though he now has no memory of how it came to be there.” You make a short humorless laugh, as you fear you may cry if you do not express some other emotion “for some reason I thought yelling at him might break through whatever fog concealed his memory, but all I succeeded in doing was causing quite the scene while I was being dragged away. I guess I’m almost lucky no one remembers that…”

He gives you a sad, sympathetic look, "I'm sorry to hear that. I've had similar incidents occur, but I have been fortunate enough to keep all my belongings..."

You shrug nonchalantly “Well, at least I know it’s being kept somewhere safe!” you want to change the subject quickly, you don’t want his pity right now. "Anyway, there was something else I was meaning to ask you," you move on abruptly "If we're right in assuming we both journeyed to Mordor together, why did you choose to join the Conquest?"

"It's strange, I actually cannot remember the reason I went to Mordor, only that it seemed important at the time. Do you remember why you went though?" your heart sinks, you know why he has forgotten.

"I do. it was ill-thought and reckless, but I at least remember making that decision... if you do not, then..." you suddenly find yourself unable to look Corunir in the eyes "then I must have been the reason you went. So I got you into this mess. I'm so sorry- this was all my fault-"

"No, it was not." he assures, voice stern but gentle "If I followed you to Mordor, I did so of my own volition. And I doubt it was by your decision alone that we brought the relic back to the city. Do not assign so much blame to yourself, especially as neither of us remember the full story of how we got here."

"Right... you're probably right." Faeron was right too, sometimes you really do sound too much like Meneldir. That does little to ease the shame you feel, but at least Corunir doesn't blame you as he probably should be.

"More than anything, I'm just glad to know you remember your reasons for making the journey," Corunir continues "I was beginning to worry there may have been more like us."

"I suppose that counts as a silver lining..." you mumble. You recognize this turn up ahead "Ah, it looks like we're nearly to my camp, the relic is hidden there."

“Your camp...?” he looks confused “You've been sleeping down here?”

“Well, obviously, it’s not like I could rent a room at a tavern, I would be forgotten by morning. Where on earth have you been sleeping?”

He pauses for a moment “I… have been waiting until after the curse takes effect to rent a room.” ah, a much more obvious solution that never crossed your mind. He spoke gently, trying not to make you seem like a fool, yet you feel a fool all the same.

“...oh. That’s a good idea, I should have thought of that. A shame I’m not going to remember it.” you sigh “I wonder if we have had this conversation before…” knowing you? Probably.

“You will not have to remember. After we fix this mess, things can finally go back to normal.” he sounds less sure of himself than you would like, but it’s the thought that counts.

Not too long after, you arrive at the place that could only charitably be called a 'camp'. It's in one of the large chambers, positioned on a wide walkway near a reservoir. Just your bedroll, a small amount of scattered provisions, and a spot you had attempted to make a campfire to keep warm. You've since given up on maintaining that, though. It was far too much of a hassle to find and transport fuel down here, and fire does little, if anything at all, to stave off the curse's chill.

"You will have to excuse the mess, I was not expecting visitors." you say dryly, taking out the small bundle of rags you had the relic hidden in and unwrapping it. Intricate carvings adorn the surface of the small box, expertly crafted but of vile subject, they depict scenes of violent deaths and creatures you would rather not describe, runes you only half understand but wish you didn’t understand at all.

You hand it to Corunir, almost glad to have it off your hands despite how long you had spent trying to get it in the first place. A look of discomfort flashes on his face as he touches it, and he takes a sharp breath to steady his nerves.

"Alright, I suppose there's only one way to test my theory then. Are you ready?" you nod, you're ready as you're ever going to be, which isn't really saying much if you're being honest, but what else are you going to do?

Corunir sets the box down in an empty part of the floor and kneels in front of it, sword held at the ready with one arm and shield on the other. He closes his eyes and mutters some words in an old elvish dialect, the meaning of them you know not, but you have heard them before. They are the same words of power that were spoken by Ethedis all those months ago in Angmar, to draw fourth the spirit of a Watching Stone for you to challenge.

For a moment there is nothing. No sound or movement or any other sign of change. You begin to worry that it isn't-

Suddenly all warmth leaves the chamber. An icy blue light fills the area from an unknown source, illuminating the box with a ghostly glow. It feels as if the very air has frozen around you and you cannot remember the sensation of heat. Corunir shoots to his feet, holding out his shield in front of him. "That was it! Prepare yourself!" he shouts.

You assume your fighting stance just as the lid of the box flies open, a spectral figure bursting forth with an animalistic fury in its bright eyes. It is not dissimilar from other ghosts or spirits you have encountered, although it stands (floats?) a whole head and shoulders taller than most. It says nothing, but a feeling of unmistakable hatred emanates from it. You feel that it goes beyond the general spite for the living most spirits possess, it is clearly also angry that someone removed it from the populace areas of the city, surely foiling whatever plans it had for the unsuspecting people. 

It outstretches its hand, drawing the dampness in the surrounding air to its fingertips and freezing it into a jagged blade of ice, and then it turns its hateful eyes to you. It knows you trapped it down here, and you know it has every intention of delivering you to a cruel death.

No going back, it has been unleashed and you must end it here and now. You don't really know if banishing the spirit will break the curse, and you know know if the breaking of the curse will necessarily restore everyone's memories. Maybe you will remain forgotten, maybe you will die down here, but if you can at least ensure that no one else falls prey to this thing, it will all be worth it.

You will not wait for it to make the first move. You lunge at it with all the speed you can muster and connect your fist with its chest. As you make contact with it you feel as if you have plunged your hand into icy water, a sharp jolt of pain and then numbness running through your arm. But, remarkably, you still did some damage to it. As the spirit reels back from the impact you feel heartened, now seeing that it is corporeal enough for you to harm. It’s short lived however as the spirit looks back at you with fell sorcery in its gaze. You find yourself unable to move, your feet frozen to the ground and panic settling in your heart. It could not have lasted for more than a fraction of a second, but that was enough to lower your defenses. In a flash it swings its frozen blade at your throat, and you have no time to react. Your eyes instinctively squeeze shut bracing for impact.

You then hear a metallic clang and the sound of shattering ice. You open an eye and see Corunir’s shield-arm outstretched in front of you, turning what would surely have been a fatal blow. Glimmering shards of ice from the shattered blade scatter harmlessly through the air around you. He steps in front of you and bellows a challenge to it, finally drawing its ire away from you. 

You quickly shake your arm trying to return feeling to your frozen hand as you watch the spirit form another blade from the air. It’s hard to describe how grateful you feel to have Corunir and his shield standing between you and it. It has been a long time since you have had to make such a desperate fight with only your hands to defend yourself, you feared your skills were getting rusty.

It is no small feat for Corunir to keep its attention focused on him, considering how enraged it is as you specifically. You heard him say something in elvish, you could not make out exactly what he said, and his axe flashed with heat, now seeming to be wreathed in embers. As he continues to harry it with strikes from behind his shield, the fell spirit has no choice but to face him rather than you. It leaves itself open for you to attack, once, twice, and a third time. Your first blow found its mark flawlessly, the second seemed to as well. The third, well, you think it did, but you can't really feel your hands anymore. Despite the numbness you press on with your attacks.

As it trades blows with the two of you, you start to see its form flicker and fade in some places, as if it is struggling to hold itself together. In a last desperate strike you bring down both of your fists on its head, its hateful screeching abruptly fading to nothingness as its form dissipates into a fine translucent dust.

Then, all at once, a dam in your mind breaks. Nearly a year's worth of memories, memories of Corunir and your harrowing adventures together, all flooding back to you in a torrent of joy and fear and grief and hope. The shock overwhelms you completely and you collapse on the cold stone.

[a-lonely-dunedain]

as much as the text on the ignore pain skill makes me worried for Tossdir, it also has the potential to enable one of my favorite tropes that can be played up for both comedy and angst! a two-for-one deal!

Tossdir: *covered in blood after a fight* Meneldir: holy shit are you ok?! Tossdir: oh don't worry! this isn't my blood! Tossdir: *pause* Toaadir: "...actually, this might be my blood-" *immediately collapses*

[a-lonely-dunedain]

'hey, I'm not your pillow,' for character(s) of choice? :D

oh gosh I forgot about this one! I think I'll do this with Ethedis&Tossdir bc I've been very mean to Ethe in my discord lately so she deserves some cuddles with her bestie <3

...........after I chuck her down a minor plinko offscreen. Look, listen, how else am I going to get that sweet sweet hurt/comfort? she's FINE everything is FINE this is FLUFF

--------

“I think this is supposed to go the other way around...” Tossdir says quietly, wiping the dried blood and dirt from a small cut on Ethedis’ cheek with a damp cloth. He’d already finished patching up her more serious wound, thankful that Ethedis was conscious enough to guide him through most of it, and now all that's left is to tend to some minor cuts and scrapes.

Ethedis scoffs weakly "You're hardly the only one here the Iron Crown wants dead."

"No, but between the two of us, running headlong into danger is usually my job," he flashes a halfhearted smile, but it fades quickly as he returns his focus to her bandages, readjusting the ones on her arm that he had hastily tied earlier "and you’re far better at this part than I am…"

"You’re doing fine, Pîn-Toss." Ethedis gently assured, though Tossdir knew well that 'fine' was hardly comparable to what someone trained under Lord Elrond was capable of. He felt clumsy and out of place with such delicate work, only made worse by his nerves at the fact that his friend's life was in his hands at the time. He hoped Ethedis hadn't noticed how much his hands shook earlier.

"You’re usually just so careful… I never expected you to…" He trails off, too preoccupied in his worry to be annoyed at the nickname 'little-shrub' she had given him. He couldn't help but still be shaken by what happened. She was fine one moment, launching storms of embers and lightning at their foes, and then the next she was collapsed on the ground with an orcish blade in her side. She was barely responsive when he finally fought his way to her, only fully coming back to her senses after he managed to drag her back to their camp. The wound was, thankfully, not as deep as he initially feared, but ideally she should not be wounded at all.

"I try to be, though I’m unaccustomed to fighting so frequently. I overextended myself and paid the price, a mistake I do not plan to make again." Though admittedly, she didn't plan to make it this time, either. Calling upon natural powers would be taxing anywhere, and doubly so in a place like Angmar, but she had not yet learned how to accurately sense when she was at her limit. Until recently, she was a stranger the necessity. "I'm lucky you were with me, to think of what might have happened if I was alone…"

"Don't-" Tossdir winces at the thought, looking away "don’t even talk about that. Please."

"All right, I won't. But thank you all for saving me all the same"

"Not as if I had a choice, you know Corunir would have killed me if I let something happen to you." he says half-jokingly.

Ethedis snorts an almost-laugh "He wouldn't."

"He might."

"I think he's far too gentle for that," she says with a weary smile. "But in any case, you said we should not speak of such grim things..." Her head nodded slightly, as if she was having trouble keeping upright.

"Right," he gives her bandages one last look over, making certain he hadn't missed anything. "It looks like I've done all I can for now," he says after some hesitation "you should try to get some rest, I don't want you scaring me like that again any time soon..."

Ethedis nods again, this time in agreement, but instead of laying on her bedroll she leans forward and rests her head on his shoulder, her face nestled in the warm wool of his scarf.

"Hey, I'm not your-" Tossdir halfheartedly protests, but the words die on his lips. He hesitates a moment before gingerly putting an arm around her "...Alright, fine." Ethedis says nothing in response, but wears a small contented smile.

He carefully adjusted to a more comfortable position, with his back against the cliff their camp was set under, keeping his cloak wrapped snugly around the two of them. Soon enough, it seemed that Ethedis had fallen into sound sleep, the corners of her lips still turned in a slight smile. Tossdir just breathed a quiet sigh of relief, at least her injury didn't seem to be bothering her much. Maybe he had done a better job tending it than he'd given himself credit for.

Tossdir didn't sleep much that night, instead dutifully keeping watch over his friend, although it was probably unnecessary as Ethedis' raven friends were already tasked with guarding the camp and waking them if anyone came near. Still, Tossdir felt better keeping watch himself, maybe he was unable to protect her earlier today, but at least like this, he felt as if he could.

And besides, he never really trusted those birds anyway.

[a-lonely-dunedain]

finally grinded out enough rep with the Paths of Valour to get Tossdir his first epic emote!

I had a choice between /epic_succumb and /epic_shiver, went with shiver. It seems my preferred method of grinding tokens of heroism (throwing Tossdir through the first two bosses of Sarch Vorn) caused some of the cold from the Black Grave to follow him. oh well! he's Fine don't worry about it