#poor mans going through plinko infinite in canon

[hallothere]

crime time! 48 for halbarad?

crim tim! 48. Dizzy/Collapse

Elladan, Elrohir, Golodir, Corunir, Nethraw--

He stumbles as the bright light lances his vision. It reflects off the snow, blinding white. He is back in the sunshine. As of this moment, he is free.

Prestadir, Idhrenfair, Brungos, Faeron, Techeron, Langlas, Celairant--

The city of the Falcons has been emptied. It's odd to be on the other side, the conqueror- or in this case, the survivor- of a city cleared. A city abandoned. His kin had flown from strongholds before, under threat of an invasion. Too many times. But that list was longer than the list of names he needed now, needed to repeat to himself.

Calenglad, Helchon, Idhrien, Culang, Orthonn

He had the names of others- the ones still in question- tucked away. He would hold those close in hope. They could still come home to him. They could still push south, to the greater hope than the ruin that would make the torments of the Falcons look like bland inconvenience.

The list of their dead was long. Those were names seared into every mind clambering down the slopes of Tal Methedras. Names written in blood and grief, and fury and heartbreak. But those names were not putting Halbarad's foot in front of him again. He did not..... he could not lead the dead, he must lead the living. He must lead the survivors.

Angwedh, Mithrendan--

Radanir

He was there, sitting on a rock, arms full of Idhrenfair and leg bound nearly to the knee. Radanir was with the Rohirrim, and tended to. Well. Free.

Halbarad was half soaked in snow before someone caught handfuls of cloak and the back of his shirt. It was an inauspicious tumble and a less elegant rescue, but his head had not smacked the ground like it seemed so eager to. Calenglad, stalwart, was saying something as he hefted him less to his feet and more to an upright position. Like a scarecrow filling in at a harvest dance where no other partner was to be had.

"Not in front of the Rohirrim, old friend, you still need to order them about. See that man there has the scuffed and sorriest boots of us all, and we've been charting slime trails for days."

Good old Calenglad. He found most of his feet and pushed forward, glad of the faces around him to go with his precious names.