theranger: (Aragorn Prancing Pony by Wizzicons)
Was it night or day? Hard to say in the stark darkness of Moria. They had been trying to keep up a semblance of day-night cycle all the same, for the sake of their bodies, for the sake of their sanity... It was apparently night now, or so the wizard had declared.

Their little camp was quiet, but the ranger very much doubted that the members of the Fellowship were getting any true rest. He knew he couldn't, but his reasons were different from the uncertainty and homesickness that troubled the hobbits, from the uneasiness that kept the elf alert, from the memories of the house of Durin that sat heavy on the dwarf's mind, from whatever ominous secret it was that was making the wizard so wary of this place.

Only one was awake for the same reason that Aragorn was awake. The ranger could sense him in the darkness, he could see him. They could both feel the danger surrounding them, the darkness of their future, but there was something that right now they felt more keenly, something drawing them to each other. The Gondorian was resisting it, denying it, but this was a battle he would lose. Aragorn knew this and smiled in the darkness.
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