He comes, his mount fully loaded with scavenged goods and remnants of food - his clothes are ripped, his arms are bloodied but whole, his eyes are full of simmering fury. At his side, the trusty sword, clean and well furbished, the golden hilt gleaming in the sun’s last rays. On his back, the arrows and the bow, ready to be taken.
The battle
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He's actually learned a thing or two! Blame Angy.
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He's actually happy to see Tyelko, though. He's not dead, right?
"Tyelko!" He crosses the distance. "They said you were here. You have to tell me you're not dead! Please!"
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He's not yelling, for a change, but that's a grouchy reply for you, Celegorm.
"And whatever happened to you? You look like the Naugrim just locked you up in a bottomless pit!"
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A pause, considering how to answer that question. And almost wincing, because of what's been on his mind. "What's - what were you doing?"
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Great. Another dead brother. What the hell?
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A pause.
"I never fought in Doriath. We never fought in Doriath."
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"Yes, you did. You just..." A deep breath, letting it out. "You haven't lived it yet."
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"You're insane. You're all insane."
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Have a deep, angry, annoyed frown.
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Lies!
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And now, it's a very, very, very angry brother.
"WHO DID THIS TO YOU?"
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