Disclaimer: Tolkien painted the luminous canvas of Middle-earth... Kortirion scribbles in the margins
Aragorn gripped the still hand, watching as breath strained, painfully shallow in the damaged man’s chest. He could feel the Steward’s son slipping away. Closing his eyes, he followed him into darkness, silently calling a beloved name as he struggled, sightless, bodiless, in the bewildering shadows between here and... the place beyond. Aragorn breathed slowly, clasping the still-warm hand tightly, concentrating his will to call back the wandering fea from the veiled dark.
In vain - the ranger returned alone.
When the last Steward’s remaining son needed him - Aragorn set his lips, closed his eyes - he would not return empty-handed again.