fliewatuet asked for a drabble about pre-Ring war Aragorn.
The stone skips twice, then sinks. Halbarad tsks. "Throw a round?" he asks when the other turns. Aragorn considers, then nods.
Upon the riverbank they stand, casting stones in silence awhile. "You're often here," Halbarad says. Aragorn shrugs.
"I was born between these rivers—" his last stone sinks "—but they speak nothing to me."
The final stone skips thrice. "Silly game," Halbarad complains. A beat, then: "Again, tomorrow?"
Reflections waver in the water.
"Aye, tomorrow," Aragorn agrees. And then smiles.