"Do not worry," you say, but I shake my head. Of course I will worry, because what if you do not come back? What if you leave me all alone, forever? And how can I not worry, when thoughts like this plague me?

"I can not help it," I explain to you. I know you do not understand. You do not worry; you do not consider all the horrible possibilities. You just do things. But I do not envy you it, because someone has to think of the consequences if you are not going to, and I am glad to be able to aid you in this way.

You sigh, and gingerly reach out towards me. For all that we are brothers, we have never been physically close. You are awkward in gestures of love or tenderness and I am not good at reaching out to other people. I would rather take care of everything myself, and I have not willingly ever reached out for comfort. But when you gather your courage and reach towards me, I always curl towards you.

Now, when you hold your arms towards me, I lean in to your embrace. You wrap your arms carefully around me, as if afraid that I will move away. I rest my head on your shoulder, allowing myself to relax.

"It will be fine," You assure me. I close my eyes as your cheek rests against my head, but I do not answer. You can not know for certain that you will be fine. I know you are just going to a council at Rivendell, but that is far from here. There may be perils. And still you do not know what you may have to face at Rivendell. They say it is only a council concerning events, and I do not know much of it, but what if it leads to more? What if you should have to go on some mission? They have talked of Isildur's Bane, and nothing in connection to that can be safe.

"You can not know that," I murmur in to your tunic.

I do not care if it is only a council. There may be no danger, but I do not want you to leave me now. I know it is selfish; I can not help it. You have been away fighting and have only just returned; I want you to myself, if only for a few days. And yet in less than a full night, you are leaving me again.

I worry like this every time you leave, all though most times I do not come to you. You are my only brother and very precious to me. You have taught me so many things. I do not think I can bear to have you go away again. I will miss your smile and I will miss being treated as an equal instead of as someone who does not have the wit to understand. I do not care that you are the commander; I do not wish to be the steward. I only want to be recognized for what I am, and you have always done that. And I have this odd feeling that you shall not return.

So I burry my head in your shoulder and fight off tears. Grown men do not cry. But you seem bent on convincing me that you will be fine. You lift my chin up with two fingers and smile at me, your nose just brushing my forehead. It is a sad smile, but also a comforting one. I stare out in to space, trying to ignore the foreboding thoughts that plague me.

"I will be home before you know it. And next time I am home, I promise I shall stay longer. I do not care what Father says, I deserve to stay home for at least a few weeks to spend some time with you," you reassure me. Then you study my face. "You have grown up while I was off fighting, my brother. Would that I had a few weeks to get to know you again."

It is true what you say. You have been away fighting off and on for the past years, and we have not seen much of each other since we were young. It is true that since you first went away we have not seen as much of each other as brothers should. And I have grown up while you were away.

I look up at you. You are my brother, and I love you. I do not idolize you; I would be the first one to point out your weaknesses- but I love you all the same, and not only because we are kin. For you are everything I am not- bold and strong and dashing. And I need you to be able to be myself.

I do not want you to leave, but I know that you must. And so I pull back a bit from your embrace to look you in the face. "I will miss you," I whisper.

You nod. "I will miss you as well." And then you lean forward to kiss my forehead. I close my eyes lightly.

But instead of the soft touch on my brow, I feel you shift and brush my lips. My eyes snap open and I jerk back a bit. I stare at you, and you look back at me, and I relax and lean forward. I will decide later that what we have done is wrong, but at the moment, it seems natural. You kiss me again. It is still soft, but this time also firmer. My hands reach gingerly up to your neck. I feel your hair brushing my fingertips. I lean in to the kiss. It becomes more fervent. Tongues meet easily and naturally. You moan softly against my lips. And then, reluctantly, we part.

I am still standing very close to you. You stare down at me. Then, you whisper, "I have to go." And with one more firm kiss, you leave me.

And I whisper after you, even though I know you will not hear, "I love you. I already miss you." And then you're gone.