Disclamier: Tolkien’s lonely hero... Kortirion’s whimsical thought.
The night was dark beyond the small fire he allowed himself. He brewed hot, thin soup from dried meat. It was autumn, nights were cold enough now that it wasn’t easy to fall asleep if he was not thoroughly tired.
After eating, he brought his horse to lie down near the fire, propping himself against its warm flank. The horse snickered, satisfied to have its master near. Boromir pulled the worn cards out, setting them in rows... Solitaire to pass the time. Hearts...
He smiled, cherishing his horselord’s parting words.
“There can be no goodbyes... you’re always in my heart”