Dark Memory

The torch went out, and the thick warm darkness of Moria fell over them like a stifling blanket. Aragorn knew they could not build a fire while they rested, yet his spirit craved light.

"How far do you reckon we are from the Dimrill Gate?" His whisper floated on the hot air.

Halbarad's shrug was felt rather than seen. "The orcs know; I do not. Sleep now, and I shall take first watch."

Sliding down the wall, Aragorn shifted his leg by silent degrees until it grazed Halbarad's knee. Anchored by that mute proof of companionship, he drifted into sleep.

[A belated birthday drabble for Alawa, who wanted "something Aragorn and Halbarad".]