We Are None Too Different

Legolas sat on the edge of the cot where Faramir lay. The elf had been regarding the man intensely. Now his gaze fell on Pippin.

“He looks like… Aragorn.”

The hobbit paused, basin in hand, to regard the new Steward. “He does a bit, yes,” he smiled. “Only more freshly washed.”

They shared a grin and Legolas turned back to Faramir, who was now resting peacefully, his brow no longer creased with fever dreams. What does he hope to see? Pippin wondered, as he set the basin down.

Legolas glanced back up at Pippin and reached out to touch the sleeve of his livery. “I believe he will be worthy of your service. That is,” the elf paused. “If you plan to stay?”

“I do.” Pippin studied Faramir then looked at Legolas, hopefully. “I think he will need me?” His voice sounded unsure to his own ears. Clearing his throat, he turned to busy himself with arranging the towels. “And you? Will you stay?”

A gull’s harsh cry suddenly pierced the gloom, drawing Legolas’s attention to the window. There was a long silence before the elf answered.

“I will,” he finally replied, his eyes still distant. “For a while, Pippin.”