Ragnar would be sat firm in a chair of his humble home, a courier would arrive with a note, Ragnar would take the note from the courier with a stiff nod before returning to his chair, he reclines, holding the letter between his digits as his oceanic eyes study it carefully.
After some time of reading, now aware of the young mans death, Ragnar arises. He would pad over to the window with a deep, pained sigh, his right digits coming to clasp around the lorraine cross that hangs firm around his neck. He mutters a few words, his accent now being visible due to the emotional pain.
"Finnvard.. you vere a good man.. vun of my closest friends.. though.. you didn't see the light.. I varned you, I varned you many times.. but I guess et es too late.. I hope for you, Bror.. I hope thad you reach your heathen halls.. and can dine vith my father.. your ancestors.. and all those you have come to love.. farevell.."
He'd dip his head a final time, aged mahogany locks hanging over his visage as he would clench his teeth which chatter together, a tear drips freely from his right eye.