Ah, yes, a fan-fic that uses one of the Gaiden characters from SD. Not that many of those as far as I can see.

Norne doesn't really have that much characterization, her biggest piece of personality was using the word "curtsy-bobbin".

Now, I didn't take note of the fact that Norne was a female archer and instantly begin to think of her as Gordin's girl. This little connection of mine wasn't made until I heard a few months back of FE12's return to proper support conversations. Though, if my reading is correct, Norne and Gordin support in 12, but they have no support conversations with each other. (Bah.)

Mind you, going off of supports, Norne/Draug is just as valid as Norne/Gordin, but this is my preference.

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

The sun's rays stretched across the horizon, marrying into the blue skies, creating the orange light known as "dusk" as the sun set.

A sunset had a somehow pacifying effect on those who saw it, just standing in awe at the beauty of the orange and gold lights as the sun began to hide itself from view.

The Archadian League also felt that pacification, it was that one moment in this bitter war that everyone seemed to be generally content with themselves, the one part of the day where a strange sense of casualness pervaded the army.

It wasn't joy that they felt, not exactly. It was that one time that they felt that this war was going to be won, that it would end on a happy note, but come tomorrow morning, they'd be left to wonder what was going through their heads as the dawn of a new battle began.

Moments like these were Gordin's favorite, a chance to disappear for a moment. In battle it didn't come up, but his shyness and natural timidity prevented him from talking to most people in a more normal setting.

He probably should count his blessings that the commander of the army, Marth, knew his natural personality well enough to not give him a commanding position in the army. He could never sound stern or forceful giving an order, not a chance.

He was one of the more skilled archers in the army at least, not that he held a candle to Jeorge. Even now, Gordin was practicing his archery on some targets he had nailed to some trees.

Nothing fancy, just some colored rings, blue at the outermost, then yellow, then green, and finally red in the center of the target. He had already made his fair share of target shots, mostly a random assortment of reds and greens, but he hit a yellow every once in a while.

The trick, as Jeorge had explained to him, was trying to hit the targets with as little time spent actually aiming the arrow, because enemy soldiers weren't going to just sit there and let you aim at them. You needed to ready your arrows and let fly as fast and as efficiently as possible.

Gordin recalled that Jeorge had demonstrated his own speed as he had explained it that one time. He had gone so far as to release multiple arrows from his bow at the same time, as many as four at once, and he was still hitting the dead center of the practice targets. Gordin had tried to do that once, firing multiple arrows, but he just couldn't hit a single target like that, firing arrows in such a way was a long ways off for him.

Gordin gasped for a gulp of air, the straining of his arms to work the bowstring was an exhausting process, and his eyes started to feel fatigued at the constant staring into the distance to determine where he must point the bow.

As his training went on, he was oblivious to the moon rising above him as his quiver was slowly depleted over his archery practice. He had only one arrow left, and then this training session would be over, he'd take his bow back to the camp, restring it if the constant pulling had weakened it, acquire a fresh quiver full of arrows from the supply convoy, and then go to sleep until the morning came.

He placed his last arrow on the string and pulled back, feeling the strained sound of the rope as it stretched back with his arm. He closed his left eye to clear his vision as he settled on one of the targets.

Gordin preferred to end a training session with the last arrow hitting the dead center of a target, always resulting in him spending an unnatural amount of time aiming his last shot. He could feel the liquid sweat running down his face as his arms protested to pulling the bowstring, it was like his muscles were about to give way.

He was just about to release and end his training, when the string suddenly snapped. The string, now in two pieces, flew forward before leashing back to the bow, and the arrow fell pointlessly to the ground. Gordin took a moment to process what had just happened, pulling the bow back to examine it, and then releasing a sigh.

"Aww… I wanted you to hit it." An familiar but unexpected voice chimed in from behind. Gordin, suddenly realizing that he wasn't alone, snapped around to see Norne, the volunteer archer with a pouty disappointed look on her face, but it soon melted away to a more teasing and friendly expression. "You want to use my bow for your last arrow?"

She walked up and offered her bow to Gordin, who seemed to give it a look over before extending a nervous and slow hand toward it.

Oh, c'mon, it's not going to bite you, Gordin." Norned reached out and grabbed Gordin's hand to pull it toward the bow, she placed the bow in his hand, and manually wrapped his fingers around before pulling herself back.

"Good luck!" She side-stepped so that she'd be right behind him as he turned back around. He sighed, raising Norne's bow to the target. He had been ready to just leave and get a new string, but saying "no" wasn't a strong suit of his. To his fortune, her bow was the exact same size as his, no worries about some subtle intricate throwing him off, even the string was about the same.

He placed the arrow on the string and pulled back, closing his left eye, he targeted the practice mark he had been training on earlier. He was about to release the arrow when he felt something wrap itself half-way around his chest, and something go over his shoulder.

"Wow! Look at the other targets! I didn't know you were that accurate!" After a moment, Gordin realized that what he had felt moving over him was Norne's arms. A sudden intake of air immediately preceded a widening of his eyes and an increased temperature in his cheeks.

"I betcha you could hit…" Norne pushed her head forward, resting her chin on Gordin's shoulder, as she scanned through the targets. "…that one!" She pointed at the most distant target, which only had arrows sunk into the yellow rings.

"N-Norne… I'm kinda avoiding that target for a reason." Gordin lowered his bow to look closer at the target Norne had pointed to. His eyes were more drawn to the eleven or so arrows imbedded in the trees right by the target. "You need a Ballistica to have a realistic chance to hit that target."

"Of come on, Gordin. You could hit it if you wanted to, just try." Norne moved the arm that had been across Gordin's chest to his arm, moving the bow to point at the farthest target. Gordin let out a quiet sigh, quiet enough that Norne couldn't hear it, and began to pull the string back, squinting in the night, the crescent moon above him offering him enough light to see the target, but not enough to really distinctly see it.

"Good luck!" That was the second time Norne had spoke those words, but unlike the last time, as either a spur of the moment reflex, or as some sort of incentive for Gordin, she withdrew her arms off of Gordin, turned her head and, without warning, suddenly pecked him on the cheek.

His heart beat tripled in speed upon realizing what Norne had just done, his cheeks, already warming up, turned rose. Without realizing what he was doing, his bow tilted up right before his finger slipped, releasing the arrow.

It sailed forward at a slightly upward angle. Gordin's stomach should have been knotting up at the fact there was no chance for the arrow to strike the target, but the only thing that was signaling in his mind was what had just touched his cheek. With one hand now freed since it had let go of the rope, he moved it up to his cheek, one motion across it confirmed what had really pushed into his face a moment ago.

"Look!" Norne's arm went across his field of vision to point at the arrow, which was starting to descend. It was rapidly approaching the general direction of the target, but after the small kiss the arrow had been sent flying without the target in its shooter's mind, it seemed impossible for it to hit even the corner of the target.

It descended further, rapidly approaching the target, but Gordin's mind, though flustered, knew that the aim was all wrong to hit the bulls eye.

He was proven correct when the arrow failed to strike the center, but it had come surprisingly close. Sinking into the black line between the green circle and the red one.

"See, I told you, you could hit it." Norne weakly giggled as Gordin sighed, a bit more composure returned to him as Norne's movements began to put some distance between them.

"S-so… we can head back to the camp now, r-right?" Gordin felt the uncontrollable desire to be by himself for a moment to sort out what just happened. Getting a new quiver and bow could wait, right now he just wanted to duck into his tent until he realized at what point he had completely lost control of the situation.

"Of course, we can go together." Norne, despite having put some distance between herself and Gordin, closed the distance again and took his hand in hers. Gordin gulped, hoping that she was simply about to ask for her bow back then let go of his hand.

To no avail, she turned around, still clutching his hand, and began to tug him along. Gordin, rather choiceless, followed after her, his mind's sole focus was on the sheer embarrassment he would feel if someone saw him walk into camp holding hands with Norne.

Pure luck. The camp had pretty much collectively taken to their beds by the time that Gordin and Norne had returned, the only other person besides himself and Norne that Gordin had seen was Navarre, and the man was practically mute, he had nothing to worry about.

At this point the moon was in the center of the air above them, the brightest light in a diamond-lit starry sky. It might have been a beautiful night, were it not for a frigid breeze blowing through the camp.

He had said goodnight to Norne and slipped into his tent. Almost pitch black inside considering the time of day, he simply lighted a candle that was by his bed and laid down. Dropping his bow over the side of the bed, he allowed himself to sink into the mattress. Content to just stare at the fabric above him, he imagined he's get an earful from Jagen or Malledus for not having already gotten a new bundle of arrows by the morning, or maybe the lecture would come from Jeorge as one archer to another, but right now he didn't want to leave his tent unless the camp was attacked.

If Norne had come up and just volunteered to take some practice shots with him, he wouldn't be feeling like this right now. He'd probably be nervous to be near here for a long time to come, more so at the chance of her behavior publicly embarrassing him then anything else.

He slowly closed his eyes, but once the eyelids had fallen completely, his mind was suddenly assailed with the image of himself locked in a firm embrace with Norne. His eyelids shot back open as he snapped up and forward into a sitting position, even with her probably in her own tent by now, she had still managed to fluster him, with the long-term effects of that peck to his cheek.

He brought his knees forward, sinking his face into them. Slowly he closed his eyes, summoning the image of himself and Norne again, this time they looked as if they were just seconds away from locking their lips.

His eyes shot open again, and he sighed as he felt his face begin to heat. He could only wonder what the subconscious part of his mind was coming up with right now. He also could only wonder if he was going to get any sleep tonight.

Before he could think about anything else, he heard someone call his name from outside the tent.

"Come in." Gordin said, no matter how tired he was. He saw a black silhouette grab the edge of the drape that acted as a fabric "door" for the tent and pull it to the side to come in.

Gordin's heart skipped a beat when he saw Norne step into his tent. She walked up calmly enough, but she had her hands behind her back, the way she was tilting forward seemed to suggest she was carrying something.

"I've got a surprise for you, Gordin." The movement of her arms made it clear that she was holding something behind her back.

Oh, please don't let it me a bouquet for me. Gordin thought as Norne began to reveal something from behind her.

"Ta-da!" Norne pulled a quiver out from behind her, plump with arrows. "I don't thing you grabbed a new one after running out of arrows in that training session."

That would be your fault. Gordin mentally quipped, not that he'd say that to her when she offered him something selflessly like that. She simply walked up to the bed and placed the quiver into his lap. "Um… thank you."

"Oh, no problem." Norne turned around, but when Gordin expected her to walk outside of the tent, she instead plopped herself down on his bed. "I just brought that to keep you from having to sit through a lecture from Jagen."

Gordin pulled a single arrow out of the quiver to examine it, anything to get his mind off of the fact he was sitting right by Norne on his bed. He moved his finger across the arrowhead, he pushed him thumb down on the tip, just hard enough to prick his finger. As the drop of blood seeped out of his thumb, he felt satisfied with the arrowhead and put it back in the quiver.

"So, Jagen gave you a lecture over not having a full quiver?"

"More like the mother of all chewing outs, but yeah." Norne wrinkled her nose as she thought back to spending too much time listening to Jagen's words on how to be a responsible archer. "To be honest, I don't remember too much about what he said, I just started nodding when he began wrapping it up."

"Uh… so, did you come just to bring me the quiver?"

"Oh, no, I've got another reason to be here." Norne raised a hand up and conked herself on the forehead as some sort of light-hearted self-punishment for almost forgetting her other reason to be here. "Since you never went to the convoy, you didn't get a new string for your bow, I wanted to re-string it for you."

She brought a hand up, a bowstring in it, "Or would you rather do it yourself?"

"Huh?" Gordin paused, "Oh, y-yes, you can, I mean, if it's not a problem."

She giggled as she reached for his bow on the other side of the bed. Gordin closed his eyes, to his surprise, Norne's close physical proximity seemed to prevent her from appearing in his mind when his eyelids shut.

So, what did those images in his mind mean? That he had more then a passing interest in the girl?

N-no… that's not possible. I've b-barely ever talked with her.

A girl about his age, who was also an archer, and had come into his tent in the dead of the night… he blinked at the sudden realization of how more then half the army would interpret that. His cheeks began to heat up, an increasingly common occurrence, it seemed. He felt the overwhelming urge to get out of his tent right now… but he obviously couldn't do that when Norne was taking it upon herself to restring his bow for him.

Norne? Well, she was a pretty girl… he couldn't seem to think of a stronger word then "pretty" to describe her. As she sat right beside him he began to feel a strange thumping in his chest, maybe he was drawn to her…

How had this situation come about, again? It started when he had been training.

Maybe I should start training with Tomas and Wolf and all the other archers.

Gordin sighed again, weather from exhaustion or frustration, or maybe even nervousness, he wasn't sure. He would already be asleep right now if those images hadn't assailed him.

"Done!" Norne's voice snapped Gordin out of his thoughts as his bow was suddenly thrust into his face.

"Ah…" Gordin nearly fell back with surprise when the bow nearly smacked into his lip, "Um… t-thank you." He wrapped his finger around the bow as Norne let go, holding it in front of him so he could pull on the string. "This is… really good!" He let go of the string then pulled it again.

"I'm glad you like it." Norne tilted her head until the side of it was resting on Gordin's shoulder. "I had to teach myself how to do it."

Gordin was going to protest about where she was resting her head, until he heard another person call his name from outside the tent. His heart seemed to simultaneously skip a beat and leap to his throat at the thought of someone seeing him with Norne like this and… just assuming.

"W-who is it?" Gordin struggled to speak, receiving no answer after calling the tent owner seemed to somehow be an invitation to enter in the League.

"It's Abel." The voice responded. "Malledus has called for an equipment check, just in case a battle starts tomorrow. I need to come in to make sure you've got everything."

Gordin cringed, but he had no choice to oblige. In a moment of panic, he grabbed the quiver and the restringed bow and lightly tossed it to the other side of the tent, just so Abel didn't have to come all the way in to see that he had his equipment.

"C-come in." Gordin breathed heavily as he heard armored boots entering the tent. "My supplies are across from my bed, as you can see."

"Hm. I suppose it is." Gordin could see Abel out of the corner of his eye, he could only count his blessings that the cavalier wasn't in a position where he could spot Norne just by turning his head.

"Does he have a proper amount of vulneraries?" A new female voice sounded. Gordin inwardly moaned when he recognized Est's voice. The dear Pegasus Knight who always seemed to be with Abel during her free time. Gordin heard someone else, probably Est, walk into the tent. At the same time, he felt something tighten around his arm, he looked back at Norne, at least she seemed to share his evasiveness about being caught like this.

"I don't see any in this pile…" Abel sounded almost disappointed in Gordin. "Do you have any elsewhere."

Gordin saw Abel's left leg begin to rise up, and the archer's heart nearly stopped. "P-private. Private area, Abel!"

Abel jumped back at the sudden panic. "Okay, okay, sheesh…" Abel knew Gordin well enough to be aware of the timid archer's quirk about privacy. "…but, do you have any?"

"Uh… w-well, I…" Gordin stammered, quickly glancing around the room, if he said he did have a vulnerary supply he'd be lying, but he didn't want to give Abel, or Est, any reason to come any further in.

"Oh, come on, out with it." Est interrupted, pushing her way slightly past Abel. She looked across the area Gordin had just said was a private spot. "He clearly doesn't have any vulneraries, and-"

She paused as she noticed Gordin out of the corner of her eye.

"Um, Gordin, what the heck is on your shoulder?" Rather then walk to a vantage point, Est began to lean forward, seeing a strange hairy mass. Her first thought was that Gordin had picked up some kind of fur band, probably in an attempt to look "tough".

She blinked, then gave in to a grin when she realized what she was looking at. "Oh, Gordin, you sly dog, you."

"Wait, what?" Abel moved ahead, Gordin was sure he was about to die. Abel caught sight of Norne, his mouth reflexively twisted into a smirk.

"I-it's not what it looks like!" Gordin protested, he closed his eyes and began to shake his head.

"When both your faces look like tomatoes, it probably is what it looks like." Est giggled.

Gordin opened his eyes, feeling slightly confused at the statement. He turned to Norne, her face was just as red as he imagined his face was right now. He blinked, all this time he had imagined that she was completely shameless and confident of what she was doing, but instead…

"It's not like that… I j-just brought Gordin a new quiver, then I got tired a-and…"

"And your boyfriend's shoulder was the perfect pillow, right?" Est cut her off. Gordin was of the belief that his face had never gone this red in his life.

"Just… be sure to grab some vulneraries in the morning." Abel decided to interject before anything in particular happened. "Do that, and I won't mention what I just saw to anyone." Abel turned around, grabbing Est by her shoulder, dragging her out with him.

Gordin sighed, hunching forward with both of his hands covering his face. He let out a depressed sigh at what just happened.

I-I'm sorry." Norne had taken her head off Gordin's shoulder and patted it with her hand. "If I'd known they'd come in, I'd of left, and-"

"I-it's okay, Norne." Gordin leaned back, feeling the heat began to ebb out of his cheeks. His only hope was that Abel would honor his word not to mention anything… and as for Est.

"I wasn't trying to embarrass you, honest." Norne looked at him with the most pleading of expressions, "I was just trying to… spend time-" she seemed to reflexively cut herself off. After the moment with Abel and Est, Gordin probably didn't need to hear the rest of that sentence, she replaced the next part with a more professional statement. "I mean, Jeorge suggested that the archers work in pairs, I thought you and I could, you know, in an unemotional soldier context, that is…"

It was a complete lie in regards to Jeorge. One that Gordin could easily see through, he knew Jeorge well enough. Jeorge was more of a solo-operative, he would never actually encourage archers to work in pairs, if the man encouraged an archer to work with anyone, he'd suggest a knight, or someone else who could take a hit.

"If it'll be too embarrassing after what just happened, then I-"

"I-I don't mind." Actually he'd prefer to remain slightly distant from everyone else, but he'd rather not shut Norne out for whatever reason.

"Really?" She sounded hopeful, Gordin made a nervous nod as her expression grew elated, she leaned in toward Gordin, making his face heat again. Yet the kiss he had expected ended up just being a simply hug, as her arms wrapped around him, she pulled back to her former position, dragging Gordin with her.

"Thank you." Their chins were resting on the other's shoulder, it prevented Norne from seeing the increasingly habitual redness of Gordin's face. Through it all, the idea of returning the hug didn't seem to occur to the archer, he just sat there, slightly pulled over into her arms, letting out ragged breaths at the suddenness of everything that had happened.

She relented, letting Gordin move back into his position. "Now that that's been agreed on, and we're more comfortable with each other, can I talk to you about something… else?"

"S-something else?" He wasn't quite sure if he was more comfortable with her just quite yet.

"Yeah, you know, everything that's happened to day should make it obvious."

"Uh…" There was one possible thing Norne could have been talking about that sprang to Gordin's mind. One thing Gordin dreaded, yet somehow simultaneously wanted. "W-what is it?"

Norne's hands reached out and grabbed Gordin by his shoulders. "Come on, Gordin, do I need to spell it out?" She pulled Gordin in.

This was, indeed, the possibility Gordin had been both pining for and dreading at the same time.

The sun began to rise in the far distance, climbing further above until the rays began to spread light enough over the camp to signal the start of a new day. The first soldiers to wake were greeted with the sight of the morning dew making a dancing twinkling of the sunlight.

Strange. Jeorge paced through the camp, turning his head left and right, his eyes darting around in search of a certain someone. Gordin's normally one of the earliest risers, and he loves to watch my morning training… did something happen to him?

By schedule, he should be just about to begin practice shooting, but after all this time, starting without Gordin watching him would feel somewhat odd. He could have gone to the practice targets now, but instead about-faced to head to Gordin's tent.

Pacing through the camp, he passed most of the other early-risers, Lena, Catria, Ogma, Tomas, Draug, and others he didn't identify as his foot-speed began to pick up. Finally he reached Gordin's tent. First of all, he called for Gordin's name.

No response.

Feeling a prick of worry in the back of his mind, Jeorge moved the drape out of the way. And moved into the tent. "Gordin, are you here?" He moved past the wall that blocked immediate sight to the bed area. "Gordin…" he repeated, "are you-"

He was cut off by the sight of Gordin laying on the floor right beside his bed, but the thing that really froze the words in his mouth was what seemed to be on top of him.

There was nothing erotic about the scene, but Norne was sleeping on top of Gordin. Her head resting upon his chest as her arms lay upon the ground, their position seemed to suggest she had fallen asleep embracing him.

"Ah-ha-ha, Gordin." Jeorge smirked at the sight, "I suppose this means you won't be interested in watching my aiming skills today." Jeorge turned around, an odd goofy grin on his face as he exited the tent.

"Ah, Jeorge." Malledus the tactician came up, a quizzical in-depth look on his face. "Have you seen Gordin? I normally see him around this time."

"Oh, don't bother them." Jeorge responded evenly, then a raised eyebrow from Malledus told Jeorge what he had just said. "I mean, uh, don't bother him." Jeorge moved past Malledus before the tactician had a chance to analyze the Sniper's face. "He's just going to sleep in a little longer."

Inside the tent, Gordin began to wake, he raised his head to Norne, blushing as he mentally reminded himself what had happened last night. He allowed himself to nervously smile as he raised his arms to place across her back. Leaning his head back down, for just one small moment he didn't care how many people might know about it. Considering Norne's personality, the secret likely wouldn't remain a secret for long, anyway. He closed his eyes, returning to a blissful sleep underneath Norne.

Hm. This ended up around three times the size I had intended, ah well. As I began writing, the story seemed to somehow spiral out of my own control.

Norne, as I said at the top, doesn't recieve too much characterization, (not that FE11 gave Gordin too much either) so I wrote her as this more relaxed/casual/extroverted girl. She doesn't have very much diologue to go off of, a few lines to Draug and Marth, and her death quote. Though that makes her pretty chatty compared to half of the characters in the game.

Intelligent Systems' take on the girl I'll probably remain generally oblivious to until I can play FE12, which I'm remaining hopeful for an English release of.

On one last note, while I'm generally respectful of translation and localization changes, I really don't get the change of "George" to "Jorge".

Please review.