Túrin watched the man closely for a brief moment then inclined his head in acknowledgment of his thanks. No one had ever quite thanked him for his words and he wasn't exactly sure what to make of the man before him or his thanks now, but some acknowledgment was better than none. How curious a thing, that in face of death he would not be scorned. But then this death had not been his fault and he need not take the blame for it.
"Friends, sometimes, are even harder to lose." Then he pushed himself gruffly to his feet and looked back out at the water. "When you are ready," he began, looking at the man with understanding eyes, "do you bury your dead or shall we consign her to the sea?"