Night after night I huddle in my cloak, hiding from my own fear as much as the cold air. Thoughts of you keep me awake, but I do not mind. I often think of what I would have said to you, had our parting not been so abrupt. With so many miles separating us now, I can only hope that you understand a little of what I feel, and how very far I've come....

At Bree I feared you as much as that which hunted us, and when you led us into the wild I felt completely at your mercy. I could not help but expect the worst. But a tenuous trust grew, day by day, based simply on the fact that you had not yet taken It from me. I sometimes wondered what you were waiting for, wondered when--not if--you would take It.

But then at Weathertop everything changed. You defended me against a fearsome enemy that outnumbered you five to one, yet you prevailed--as I saw while lying helpless and in searing pain. You carried me away from that fateful place with a determined urgency that surprised me, and a gentleness of word and touch that surprised me even more. I realize now, that was when I began to believe that I truly could trust you. As the deadly chill of the wraith's knife wrapped me in a shroud of fog, I knew only that you tended my wound and guarded me.

My first days at Rivendell remain lost to me. For a long time I floated hazily between life and death, drifting in and out of consciousness. I gradually became aware of voices and movement around me, though I could not yet let you know I had returned from the brink. Gandalf was there often, and Sam, and Lord Elrond himself, massaging sweet-scented salve into my frozen shoulder, causing it to tingle and burn, and speaking in careful voices meant not to disturb me. You came to my room many times, as I remember now. You would sit with the others, watching and waiting, sometimes returning alone, late into the night. Then you sat on the edge of my bed, cupping my numb left hand in your large, warm ones, murmuring words of encouragement and hope. How you and Sam avoided each other on your midnight vigils, I will never know. Perhaps the two of you reached some unspoken understanding, recognizing something of which I had yet to become aware.

When I was finally able to open my eyes and speak, you came often to sit with me and talk of simple things, telling me of your youth in Rivendell and of the many places you'd been in the wide world. I reminisced about life in the Shire and you revealed how Rangers, yourself included, had long guarded its sleepy borders. Even in those peaceful years you had protected me, though I did not know it.

It was at the Council that you declared yourself openly as my protector, offering your sword--and your life, if necessary--to our quest. I was never as proud as when you came to stand beside me with your hand on my shoulder. And I thought, at that moment, that the quest must be successful, with such valiant companions by my side.

As we traversed the empty, haunted moors of Hollin, I came to rely on your steadfast, ever-vigilant presence. You would always take the first watch, night after night, and as I was often unable to sleep I would join you after the others had settled down. I cannot express how comforting that time was to me. Wrapped in my blanket, I would pad quietly to where you sat, grateful for your kindness. Sitting in companionable silence, you would sometimes rub my back until I grew drowsy. After an especially difficult day, you might pull me into the curve of your arm, to rest there against your shoulder feeling as safe and cared-for as a small child. Many times we sat like that all night. I drifted easily to sleep then, but how you got by on so little rest I do not know. And you would always carry me, still sleeping, back to my spot by the fire before the others awoke in the early light.

I vividly remember the day the crebain came to spy on our progress. My name was first off your lips as you realized the danger. With no time for pleasantries, you grabbed my arm and hustled me into the shelter of a narrow cleft under overhanging rocks. Though it provided only the barest concealment, you dove in after me. I was crushed up against your back, close enough to be enveloped by your scent of woodsmoke and leather, with one of your long legs thrown over mine. When the sky finally cleared, you turned to look at me over your shoulder. Our eyes met and my throat became suddenly, inexplicably, tight. You held a finger to your lips, expecting me to speak, but I did not. In that moment I could not have found the words for what I felt.

On Caradhras you caught me when I stumbled and set me back on my feet. In that horrifying moment when I realized the Ring had left me, you barked the demand for its return with unquestionable authority. As I placed It once more around my neck, I felt the hilt of your sword--and your hand upon it--solid and substantial against my back. That night, forced to camp in the snow as we made our descent, defeated by the mountain, the company huddled together under a ledge for its meager shelter. Body to body we all lay, wrapped in our bedrolls against the cold earth, you on one side of me, Sam on the other. After everyone else had fallen into fitful, uneasy sleep, you opened your blankets and invited me inside. I felt no hesitation in joining you there, and you wrapped your arms around me and pulled me close, my back to your chest. My senses were overwhelmed by your presence, your scent, your warmth, and lying next to you I did not feel so vulnerable. You were not inclined to speak, but when you nuzzled my neck and buried your face there to drift to sleep, my heart pounded so hard I thought our companions must surely hear it. I confess I did not get much sleep that night as I chased away impossible thoughts. But when we awoke to a dreary gray dawn, I found that some of the others had sought similar refuge.

Moria brought the worst horrors of our journey, beginning with the Watcher at the West Gate. You and I entered those mines drenched to the skin, myself from almost being devoured, you from preventing it. How I wanted to cling to you then! Our eyes met and I knew you knew. From that moment on, you were constantly by my side. When we traveled I often walked with you, our rear guard, your steady hand resting lightly on my shoulder. In that horrid place we posted two at a time on the watch, and no one questioned the fact that you and I always stood guard together--not even Gandalf, despite his constant urging that I be spared that duty. Though forced to keep silence, we communicated easily enough in whispers, gestures, glances, sharing what small comfort we could find.

When we were set upon by Orcs in the Chamber of Records, I was amazed by the ferocity you displayed in trying to reach me. When you found I was not dead after the troll's attack, utter relief was etched in your face, but I thought I read something beyond that in your eyes. Then Gandalf fell and in that paralyzing instant I would have gladly followed him into the pit. That wretched Boromir scooped me up against my will, and I struggled to get away from him--although not to jump, as he thought, but to run to you. As we spilled at last into the light, my world narrowed to a wracking pinpoint of grief. I would not have had the will to continue but for you. When you called my name, my heart responded. I followed you down the mountain though my tears still fell.

Lorien offered a badly needed respite, the time we spent there strengthening us all for the remainder of the quest. One particular night will be etched into my soul forever. I had cried long, endlessly it seemed, while you held me curled on your lap under a great tree in the stillness of the forest. You were patient with me, as always, never making me feel awkward or ashamed as I purged my sorrow the only way I knew. When I quieted and looked up to meet your eyes, I was startled by the pain I saw there. Your own tears left wet trails down your face, though I had not known that you cried with me. I brushed your cheek with a tentative hand, wiping away the wetness. You smiled just a little and covered my hand with your own, holding it there, your beard prickling my fingers. Your eyes, red-rimmed, held mine for a long, long moment--until finally I had to look away. With a gentle finger under my chin, you forced me to look up, our faces but inches apart. Whisper-soft, you pressed your lips to my cheek. I could not think, let alone speak, but I did not pull away. Then ever so gently, allowing me plenty of warning should I not want it, you covered my lips with yours. For the space of a heartbeat I froze before yielding and leaning into the kiss, your breath warm on my cheek. Hesitantly at first, then growing more assured, your tongue slipped between my lips and circled and danced with my own. I was sinking, dissolving, forgetful of everything except that sudden, unexpected sweetness and your hands stroking my back. I had not dared even to dream of this.

Long moments passed, the temptation to lose myself in your kisses becoming quite irresistible. But when you began undoing my shirt buttons, lightly caressing the soft skin at the base of my throat, I instantly became aware of the Ring slumbering on its Elven chain. My hand flew, unbidden, to shield it and I started as if awakening abruptly from a dream. You withdrew your hand slowly, as if not to alarm me further, but the fragile, precious interlude had passed. I rolled off your lap to stand beside you. "Aragorn..." I began, feeling terribly uncomfortable. "Shh. You don't have to..." "I'm sorry," I managed to stammer, then turned away.


I hope that none of our companions noticed any change in either of us after that day. I hope that outward appearances remained the same: the protector and the protected, nothing more. I sometimes think that Legolas knew something had passed between us--not because of anything he said or did; rather, because of his complete and utter lack of reaction to any exchange between you and I.

That no longer matters. I soon came to realize that the true evil of the Ring would lie in turning us, all of us, against one another, and I could not let that happen. As we made our way down the Anduin, sliding closer to Mordor with each stroke of the oar, it became more and more apparent to me. The destruction of the Ring was appointed to me and no one else. For as long as I carry this hateful thing, it is not safe to allow you to love me, nor to allow myself to love. I know you are not afraid, but I fear for you. I know you are stronger than me, but now I must be strong, too.

Our parting was not what I wished for, but how could it be otherwise? I saw your heart shining in your eyes, heard the depth of emotion in your voice as you reminded me of your pledge, and my heart twisted inside me with the weight of all that we left unsaid. I dare not think ahead to the completion of the quest, if somehow despite the dangers I succeed. For if the Dark Lord is indeed vanquished and life goes on, what then? You are promised to another, and there is someone who loves me beyond all reason whom I must consider. But still I lie awake under the night sky, wishing for your touch, wishing I had made a different choice that day in the Lady's Wood. And in spite of the enemies we faced, the losses we suffered and the tears, I wish that I could relive those days when we journeyed south, just to walk beside you again, your hand steady on my shoulder.