His smile was rather wry, flickers of old bitterness danced on the edges. "No. I am not safe. But I also do not stay dead for long. Not while my people remain. And the French people will endure." The last had his voice firm, allowing no hint of doubt nor giving chance for argument. A fierce love and devotion to his people was clear for any blind man to see. Just because France was no longer as 'strong' as some of his allies didn't mean he was weak.

"Then you will not mind visiting me sometimes." It was partially a question, partially a plea, and partially pure hope. "Not once a decade." France raised a hand again to brush fingertips gently over Maglor's cheek, gaze gentling again. "You have been greatly missed."