He told Frodo that a great evil had departed, and then he had laughed.
It was true. Evil that had plagued Middle-earth for two Ages had been vanquished, and peace could rule. Aragorn would be King, the West would prosper, and he could finally go home.
And yet…
Part of him still stubbornly remembered that it wasn't some unknown foe he had defeated. That it had been, in actuality, his little brother. And part of him mourned.
So he laughed, and rejoiced that they had won, that they had survived. He laughed, because if he didn't, he would weep.
