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Ferethor chuckled at Roryn saying that he just wanted to die for the sake of it. Apparently he had never been in that fey state when death was near him - the strained will that snaps off in the turmoil of mind, that impossible terror that besets one that is fundemental in that it bases itself on the most basic of human instincts - that of survival.
"Fool..." Ferethor's soft voice was heard by none but himself. "But thank the Eru, Roryn, that you have never had faced death in its naked terrifying form. If you ever do, then you'd curse the day that you did forever. Death itself in battle is honorable, and not even something to be mourned over but praised - but suicide? You wouldn't know."
His countenance was darkened as he continued treading the path silently and listening to the others conversing among each other.
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