There was nothing that he could do to ease his dying companion's pain. He was helpless, and understood that this was the last time he would see him alive. The arrows were too deep, the wounds too great, he surely would have died when he was hit, but he here he lay, barely holding on to the threads of his fading life. He was fighting with his sword in hand, and só he was right to die with sword in hand.

"I would have followed you my brother," he said with effort and laboured breath. "My captain. My King."

He was gone after that. His life was over life, and lives on, in the dreams of each of companions.