A/N: Tolkien's characters. Not including the little epilogue, this will probably be the second-to-last bit, unless Barliman or that elf choose to present a plotbunny. Unlikely at this point, but not unheard of, I suppose...
It was quiet as he approached the treeline. He had made just enough noise so as to warn his fellows of his coming prescence, scaring most of the nearby wildlife into silence as he came too close for their liking. There was but the sound of a single bird's censuring alarm that did not mute itself immediately at the sight of him. The dark-haired man whistled in return, and was rewarded with movement from the brush. He walked towards it, still cautious, as they all must be in these days. "Halbarad?" he asked once he stood no more than a sword's length away.
"My jay attempts don't fool you anymore? That's it; we're going to have to change the safe-codes if even this city boy can figure them out!" The man who appeared out of the brush and rocks with a self-mocking shake of his head was equally dark-haired and tall, but the uneven hunting of this northern clime had left him with an even rangier build than the newly returned man's was, and weatherbeaten features. Although the woodsman was fast approaching the end of his sixties, it still surprised his younger kinsman to see the streaks of silver peppering Halbarad's beard and hair. He truly had been away too long, he decided.
"Now be fair; I knew I was making enough noise to scare away every real jay for miles," the younger man replied.
"Aye, that you were," Halbarad said with only the slightest trace of censure. "So, Aragorn, what else have those southerners driven out of your head? Lady Arwen? Proper care of your blade?"
The younger man laughed, unwrapping the hilt of Narsil at last. "Hardly!"
Halbarad pulled the broken haft away from him, examining the jagged blade critically. "Hmm… You're certain? I thought it had more left on it than that when you first hunted with us."
Aragorn put his hand above his friend's upon the hilt. "I was smaller then, so it may have looked that way in comparision."
"And you've been using a whole sword, so it may feel that way, now, too," Halbarad needled him. "You've gotten spoiled, city boy."
"That's quite a statement, coming from a man who has never fought with a broken blade or seen the wilds of Ithilien. Not all of Gondor is white stone and comfy taverns, you know."
"Next you'll be telling me that they have more than pasture-fields in Rohan and more than distilleries in Laketown!" Halbarad chuckled. "One of these days I shall have to see these southern wilds of yours, Aragorn. I'd quite like to see those comfy taverns, too, but not everything in Arnor is trees and rocks, either."
"You needn't tell me that, cousin," Aragorn said, slipping after the elder ranger into the forest. Hidden amongst the trees and rocks, his home awaited him.