Warnings: Only warning is that it's my first drabble here, so I hope I'm doing this right. Okay, is somewhat melancholy.
Book/Source: LotR - movieverse, cause I like it
Disclaimer: Not real, didn't happen, no harm meant to anyone. I will love Peter Jackson forever for finally getting me to buy the books before the movies came out and I will love Tolkien for the world he created that drew me in like few have ever done.
And in the end, it was the sharp sting of memory that held him there; the longing of freedom versus the binds he now wore. He remembered with perfect clarity - the bitter tang of hot blood, the traces of fear and anger, and through it all the underlying scent of the forest, soft and mossy. He remembered sweat and leather, death and decay. But more than that, he remembered having to say goodbye.
Aragorn sighed, placing the worn leather bracers on his forearms just as he did every morning, watching dawn pass over shade and shadow ...and he remembered.