It was snowing again. Memories couldn't be ignored even with the weight of the kingship on his head and shoulders. Fingolfin walked through the halls of his home, checking on all who lived within the immediate walls of the stronghold. A permanent shiver worked hard to run through him and make him shake when white fell from the sky, but he never gave in. A good thick robe and thick soled boots on his feet would hide what did get through.

Fingolfin paused at one of the balconies looking out over the land, then to the railing. Drawn to stare out over at the white wash of all that could be seen. To the river just in sight. He would not give in even to the winter, though it was not so cold here. And they had supplies, and access to more. No one went hungry. He wasn't willing to send people out too long outside of hunting and defense.

A sense behind him had him smile suddenly and turn his head a little. "My shadow has returned," he greeted softly.