He looked up sharply, fear clear in his eyes. His mother was a constant in his life; he relied on her and he knew her heart was strong. But he also realized that he had been blinding himself somewhat to the pain behind her smiles. She was not well and she had not been so for years.

Elrond visited her more and more frequently, his expression solemn.

The signs were not promising and Aragorn felt the selfish urge to beg her to stay.

"I wish I could heal her." he wiped his hands on a spare cloth, one brow rising quizzically, "I know of only one who would fit your description, but how can that be?"

Instead of standing over Maedhros, he pulled a chair forward, lowering himself on it.

"Neither am I. I have caused him many a grievance in this room."