Title: Guilt: Aragorn’s POV

Rating: K+

*~*~*~*

I stand on the steps and watch him. His fair features, normally so open to me, are now stony, as if chiseled out of marble. I cannot see his eyes, but I know, if I were to look into their expressive depths, I would see only pain and guilt. We have been so close for so long that I know what he is thinking. He feels responsible for the fall of the Deeping Wall and all the deaths that resulted, including Haldir's, because he didn't bring down the Uruk-hai who carried the torch.

No one blames him, not Théoden, not Gandalf, not Gimli, and certainly not me. He shot two arrows at the foul beast, hitting it with both. It was not his fault that the creature did not fall. Had it done so, another would have taken its place and another and another until the will of Saruman was done. The Wall would have been breached no matter what Legolas, or any other archer, had attempted to do. Such is the nature of war.

I was raised with elves, so I know they feel joy and sorrow, guilt and pride in a way that no other race in Arda can understand. It makes up the very fabric of their immortal being. The Firstborn carry those emotions and memories far into a future we mortals can hardly imagine.

He has to forgive himself, if he is to return to being the elf I know and love as a brother.

I can stand here and watch no longer. I must go to him and do what I can to ease his burden of guilt. I must succeed for if I don't, I will carry a guilt of my own.

I step up beside him and put my hand on his shoulder.

*~*~*~*

A/N: This drabble is connected to the next one.