Anti-OTP: Finrod/Edrahil flashback

[caninefodder]

They've all been home for some days now, and the mood in Nargothrond remains frantic. The battle was lost and the war's not over, and there are the wounded and the refugees from the East to attend to; defenses to arrange; friends to mourn. While Orodreth and Celegorm between them seem to be doing an excellent job of sorting things out, there's no

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[hewer_of_caves]

Finrod barely looks up at the knock and calls "Enter!" in an absent tone. His gaze remains fixed upon the documents he is studying, lists of the names and numbers of wounded, failed battle plans, what is known of the fates of the other forces and the movements of the enemy's armies. Partly an excuse to be sitting down away from the chaos for a bit, mostly neccessary information that he should know, and really a way to take his mind off loved ones lost and the pain of his own wounds for a little while.

[caninefodder]

"It's me," he says, slipping in. For his part, Edrahil wasn't particularly wounded, just quickly-healing cuts and bruises of varying degrees. Some of them still show; not many, but he does look tired. "How are you?"

[hewer_of_caves]

A genuine smile crosses his face as he looks up. "Edrahil. Hello." Under usual circumstances he might rise to greet his friend, but he's still stiff and sore so he remains seated. "I'm...well enough." The smile remains but his eyes are sad, and when he gestures for Edrahil to sit he is careful not to move his shoulder.

[caninefodder]

Edrahil would definitely approve of the rationality re: not standing. He beseats himself in whatever chair-like object is closest to Finrod, looking him over for anything more wrong than it already was. "Things are beginning to calm down out there. I thought I'd visit."

[xxvitinxv]

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