Disclaimer: All places and persons belong to Professor Tolkien whom I greatly admire. This was written for the simple joy of writing. No copyright infringement intended, no money made.
Rating: General, suitable for all.
Series: Sons of Gondor
Archiving: my website and Edhellond. Everyone else: please, ask first.
Summary: A long-overdue sequel to "Outcasts". Andrahar and Mánion are finally reunited. Triple-drabble. 301 words.
Dedication: to Isabeau, for Edhellond's 5th anniversary.
Beta read by Altariel, thanks!
Author's note: Just a reminder: in my corner of the Ardaverse, Andrahar and Boromir were never together. I follow Isabeau's original concept, in which Andrahar had a long-time, on and off relationship with a healer. Mánion, however, is entirely mine, and appears in "Bruises", "Outcasts" and "The Face of the Enemy" – so far.
Rating: General, suitable for all.
Series: Sons of Gondor
Archiving: my website and Edhellond. Everyone else: please, ask first.
Summary: A long-overdue sequel to "Outcasts". Andrahar and Mánion are finally reunited. Triple-drabble. 301 words.
Dedication: to Isabeau, for Edhellond's 5th anniversary.
Beta read by Altariel, thanks!
Author's note: Just a reminder: in my corner of the Ardaverse, Andrahar and Boromir were never together. I follow Isabeau's original concept, in which Andrahar had a long-time, on and off relationship with a healer. Mánion, however, is entirely mine, and appears in "Bruises", "Outcasts" and "The Face of the Enemy" – so far.
After long hours of drilling his charges, the Armsmaster finally had mercy on them and released them into the care of their other tutors. He set off to the Infirmary himself, as he had a stubborn pain in his left shoulder that often returned on rainy days and needed to be taken care of.
Entering the herb-master's workshop, he suddenly stopped.
Instead of the elderly Timondul, a tall, long-limbed young man stood behind the long working table, with the apron of a healer bound before him. He had the chiselled face of a Dúnadan noble but the russet hair and brown eyes of the Enedrim, the people of old of Dor-en-Ernil.
Hearing the Armsmaster's steps, he glanced up – and paled a little.
"Master Andrahar," he said. "It has been a long time."
"Too long," replied Andrahar. "You were gone for four years."
"'Twas necessary," said the healer. "You know the reason."
"I do," Andrahar nodded. "Has then the distance helped to make up your mind?"
"That depends," said the healer evasively.
Andrahar snorted. "Depends on what?" he asked.
"Whether I am still welcome in your life... and your bed," replied the healer.
"You know you always will be," said Andrahar slowly. "Though I still cannot offer you more than I could four years ago."
"That will be enough – for the time being," said the healer. "About the future we can speak when the time is right."
~The End~