That was a feeling that Aragorn was intimately familiar with. Whatever fate awaited him back in Middle-Earth, he could not help but worry for the friends he had left behind. He worried for those he left at the Morannon, on the threshold of the largest evil any of them had ever faced. He knew Legolas and Gimli were stronger than most, that Gandalf was the wisest man he had ever met, but he still feared for them.

More than anything he feared for Frodo and Sam, those he had sent alone into the fire of the Enemy. He could only pray that their quest was successful, that they had somehow managed to escape the Cracks of Doom without harm.

Perhaps the Lady Galadriel would tell him nothing, but he could still hope. "I, too, worry for my friends. But we must trust in their own strength, so long as we remain here."