The captain's face was pale even against the pure white of the linen sheets. Denethor regarded Thorongil's still form upon the bed for just a moment longer, then turned steel-grey eyes upon the company's healer who was about to leave the tent.
The healer turned, as if stopped by the intense gaze of the Steward's son.
"Will he live?" Gondor could ill afford to lose the captain.
A nod. "Aye, but it will take time until he is fully recovered." A pause. "What happened to him?"
"He volunteered to stage a diversion. None of us knew at what cost."
A/N: I became the victim of another InstaDrabble session. This time the words pure, bed, steel and diversion were given.
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