He buries his face against Hythlodaeus' shoulder, clutching his friend tightly. His sobbing is quiet even though there is no-one else to hear him. It's difficult to let go of certain habits - not least of which is concealing how he truly feels before the mortal masses.

Their lives are so fragile here. In truth, he knows their bodies were just as vulnerable back then to sickness and disaster as they are now, but danger had never stalked the streets of Amaurot. He had thought he wouldn't care if they died here, knowing that bringing a life back is as simple as taking another's. But it hurts, still. It hurts.

Eventually he manages to regain some composure. He's sure he must look a mess with his nose running and his eyes red. Even now, he tries not to let Hythlodaeus see it.

"...Thank you," he mutters.