He isn't fully healed. Not entirely. His dreams are still fragmented, red and terrible. He still feels a little tug under his heart every time he thinks he sees the Dog out of the corner of his eye. He still can't forgive Curufin, not quite. He still can't face Findarato, still twitches when he hears the wolves outside, and the scars will never go
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And if he looks up, there's an especially cocky-looking Atan holding a rather weird-looking bow over his shoulder.
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"You haven't hunted in some time, I'm guessing," she says gently, with a small smile.
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He examines the bow, frowning. "This isn't a very good bow, though."
He's used to better.
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"Heeellllo?"
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"Who are you?"
It's not quite hostile. But probably borderline.
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"Eda... and you?"
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It's ugly. And loud.
Not like a weapon should be. :|
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Moving against utter grief.
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He pauses in his practice, breathing out, and notices the Edain practicing with a blade. She's not bad, either. He rocks back on his heels and just observes her moving through her forms, noting weaknesses with a warrior's automatic eye.
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"Hello?"
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Admittedly, it's probably not by much, but this family defines perfectionism with the sword.
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"Need any help?" It's part teasing, part offer, the twins always were quite avid hunters though truth be told they haven't been out as much recently as they used to either.
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"And we keep each other busy. Does that count?" They laugh, but really though it's unlikely that these two will ever have children of their own. There's just not room for anyone else.
"We could try to help you, if you want."
[ooc: aaand I just had the never-happening crack idea of all crack ideas. XD]
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He blinks, a little, and then shrugs. "--I could probably use it," he admits, a little ruefully.
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