"No... it does not, does it?" He says looking up at Fingon apologetically. "This place is... not so bad, most of the times. Though there are strange things happening in it that makes me doubt it's entirely benign in nature."

He does not deserve it. He does not deserve Fingon's concern or care. He had failed him, had betrayed him, he had not been there when he'd needed him and he had died for it.

He should tell him so, should turn away from that touch, but he has always been weak. He can't make himself do so, instead leaning into it, how could he not? How could he not when Fingon's hand is warm and alive upon him. "I'm sorry..." He says miserably, so sorry for so many different things.

"...You need to know what I have done, my king." He says. "You need to know how badly I have failed you so that you may decide what you wish to do with me."