Aragorn leads them through Eregion's trackless wastes, watchful on the surface, but his mind drifting deeper, from memory to dream... summer night in Rivendell; the curve of a breast, rustle of shifting silk, lips on his skin... only to reunited Gondor and Arnor's crowned King... The Ring, golden and potent, hidden around Frodo's neck. I could...

Her voice drops one word clear as crystal into his fevered imaginings:

Estel.

And he comes to himself, hair damp on his brow, and is glad he is at the head of the column so that none can see the flush on his face.