Rain seasoned the horizon as small droplets began to dance on the rocks in front of a certain silver haired elf, and soon enough it began to hit him too. It was that time of day again, where the sun dipped below the hills of the wounded coast and darkness crept across the sky. There wasn't a day in the last 156 that the elf wasn't sat alone out here. Leaning forward he traced the letters that were etched on the stone in front of him.
Champion of the people,
Champion of the heart,
Champion of the free.
As his eye's fell at last on the name that printed in the stone and a single tear rolled down his cheek.
Taking a deep breath he lifted his bottle to the sky and with a tear choked sound, he whispered.
"I am yours."