And yet, sometimes I wonder.

	I wonder at these thoughts that flow through my head with reckless abandon, leaving me in confused turmoil while 
we run faster, ever faster, we practically fly across the fields in search of those that we have lost.

	Estel, Elessar Telcontar, Dúnadan, Aragorn Arathornion Edhelharn, the heir to the throne of Gondor and Lord 
of the Westlands.. I wonder when he became known to me simply as Strider, as Aragorn, Elvellon -- as a friend.
 I wonder when he first saw me as more than a mere friend, for I know the moment I reconsidered him. It was 
the night he first showed weakness, the night he cried in my arms..

	It is not as dramatic a tale as it sounds.

	It was the night of Boromir's death, merely a few days ago, when we first stopped to rest while searching for 
the Halflings. He was weary; they both were, I could plainly see, and so I took the first watch, intending not wake
 them until the dawn.

	The dwarf fell asleep quickly, exhausted though he would not admit it. Aragorn was slower to find rest, and 
as I turned troubled eyes to the North, I heard him moving slightly behind me. His breathing was calm yet irregular, the
 breaths of one who seeks for sleep but cannot find it, and for a time I sang soft songs to the breeze, hoping to 
inconspicuously lull him into sleep.

	Eventually his breathing deepened, and for a while all was quiet. Then the sounds of restless shifting began again, 
and abruptly ceased -- I could tell that he was now awake, having been flung out of the rest he so deeply deserved. I waited 
a moment, giving him time to wake fully, and then I turned around. He had recovered more quickly than I expected, and was
 sitting up, watching me, the moon reflected in his eyes.

	"It is too early to wake, Ranger." Said I, turning to look over my shoulder at him.

	"And yet it is too late to sleep." He watched me for a moment, eyes slightly glazed with remaining and scattered 
dreams, seeming to consider some inner thought. I returned his gaze unflinchingly, and it was eventually he who looked away, 
though he rose and started towards me.

	I could not help but smile as he approached -- a clumsy, sleep befuddled human, and yet not. Tired though he 
was, he moved with an unconscious grace that I have seen only among my own people, and though he seemed slightly 
off-balance and cold in the night air, he made not a sound as he came to stand beside me.

	We shared another glance, and again he looked away, turning his gaze to the North -- towards friends and 
foes, danger and hope -- and I matched him, a sudden sadness invading my mind.

	"You seem troubled." He did not look at me.

	"How? I do not toss and turn in my sleep."

	"You do not sleep at all, which should be answer enough, and now you look away with sadness in your eyes."

	I was silent for a moment, then: "I worry for the little ones."

	"As do I."

	"No, you worry for the warrior." I replied with an edge, though I knew I should not.

	It was his turn to be silent, now, and as he considered my words he sent me a sidelong glance. "I do, that." 
Resignation entered his eyes, and a disturbing sort of emotion that I could not quite place. "He must not be judged hastily, 
Legolas; the fault was not his."

	"There was no fault involved, Aragorn." I reminded him, feeling concern for the look in his eyes. But he 
shook his head slowly, holding it as though it pained him, and my words of comfort went unheard as his guilt poured from 
his lips unchecked.

	"Nay, there was fault, and it was mine. I should have seen.."

	"You could not have seen it.."

	"..the way he stared at Frodo, the longing in his eyes.."

	"You could not have known.."

	"And when he picked up the ring on the slopes of Caradhas.."

	"The fault was not yours--"

	"Listen to me, elf!" I sensed the change in his manner even before he himself did, but he was faster than I 
expected. We turned at the same time, and his hands flew up to grasp my shoulders tightly and draw me closer, as though 
it would somehow illustrate his point.

	And in a way, it did. 

	"I know Boromir's weakness because the same weakness lives in me!" Gimli stirred behind us, but his sleep 
was deep enough that he did not wake, and Aragorn lowered his voice to a harsh whisper. I did not attempt to break free; 
though I could have done so without difficulty, there was no need. "I know his anger, I know his longing, I know his 
mind--I know his pain, his fear, his desire--I know them because they live in me!"

	"As do I." I said softly, placing my hands on his forearms; a cool, pacifying touch that did absolutely nothing 
to soothe him. He broke away from me in disgust, disgust mostly aimed at himself for his actions and words.

	"Elves know nothing of desire," he muttered, placing a hand to his forehead as if checking for a fever. He did 
not look at me, and I made no sound for some time, though I knew he knew it when I finally came closer.

	"Do we not?" He remained turned away from me, but the tense silence had lessened into something calmer, 
and though I was still a few feet away, I could see and feel him relaxing -- but he relaxed perhaps too much, seemingly 
falling into dispair. I stepped ever closer, speaking softly. "There are many things I desire, Aragorn."

	Something made him look up, then, something perhaps in my voice or within him. He looked directly into my 
eyes, and for just a moment, he searched my gaze with precision and skill. I let him, for just this moment opening my 
mind to his. He searched quickly, silently, and efficiently, his eyes turned hard as steel. 

	And then he smiled, a small smile, but a smile nonetheless. Within his clear blue eyes there appeared a mist, 
and then he actually took me by suprise by stepping closer, placing his mouth next to my ear. "Dear friend," he 
whispered, voice thick with emotion. "You see right through me, do you not?"

	Somewhat at a loss, I nonetheless responded in kind. "As do you me, my friend."

	"A lie if ever I heard one, Legolas. I have not your skill."

	I pulled away from him then, my hands firm on his shoulders as I smiled, our faces inches apart. "You will 
learn," was all I said, and then I turned away and looked once again towards the North. The dawn was minutes away, and 
my heart burned as I thought once again of those merry young hobbits being driven like cattle towards evil unknown.

	"We will find them, Legolas."

	"They are far, far away," I said sadly, turning to face him. "I know in my heart they have not rested this 
night."

	He stood just behind me and hugged me gently yet again. "We will find them." We were silent for a moment 
after that and I leaned against him, his arms enfolding me in warmth.

	"Aragorn?"

	"Yes?"

	"You are learning."

	His sudden laughter was something I treasured.