A little something different...Arwen
Jul. 8th, 2003 09:51 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
archetI have no strong feelings one way or the other about Arwen, really, not as long as she doesn't stand in the way of Aragorn loving Boromir, that is *g* So I'm not sure why I've been so fixated on her today. Just an Arwen kind of day, I guess. I also have the vague notion that this began as a drabble, though somewhere along the way has expanded into a ficlet. It's been sitting around on a disk for ages, so it's either post it now or leave it on the disk to be forgotten and/or scowled at for another few months. So..
Title: Evenstar
Rating: G
Pairing: Arwen/Aragorn, Implied Aragorn/Boromir
Summary: Arwen learns about someone she never knew.
Disclaimer: Not mine at all.
Feedback: Is fondled, but not required. *g*
***
Her hair hangs long, dark and lustrous, never having been sun-washed and dusky golden. Her skin is soft and without flaw, timeless, never having been marked by the relentless passage of years or seasons or bearing scars. Her eyes are blue, deep with wisdom and bear no resemblance to the pale green leaves of a new spring. Her voice is lilting, strong and beautiful, not stilled forever. Her bed is warm and welcoming, not vacant, nor cold and abandoned.
She knows that somewhere in his heart he measures all this, that he measures what he has against what he does not have, can now never have. Even so, she holds no anger or bitterness for him; their love is true and abiding, and always will be. He is a mortal man, one of great worth and depth and she cannot fault his heart, as it was his heart that captured her at the first.
He still wears the symbol of her sacrifice, her devotion, on the mithril spun chain around his neck, as he also wears the symbol of a city and a memory, strapped snugly around each forearm. She watches as he wears both tokens with honor, pride and a deep, lingering sadness.
She has seen the turn of countless years and changes, yet did not know Boromir of Gondor. Now she stands as queen of his city and wonders about him. She asks, however subtly, about him. She reads of his younger years from one of many gilded, leather bound volumes dedicated to his family’s line found in the library, and she plans to read those still being written. She learns of his nature in the tales his still loyal subjects share willingly, as if he is only away and will return to them one bright morning.
She decides that one evening soon, she will sing about him and perhaps, just perhaps, Aragorn, who will not speak the name of Boromir in her presence save for when he dreams, might find his heart willing to at last, share something of the man he knew.
She looks to her husband to find his fingertips caressing the faint, but ever present symbol of the White Tree. She witnesses that gentle gesture, sees the bruise of memory in her beloved’s eyes. She feels his ache and in doing so learns it as her own, and somewhere in her heart, the Evenstar knows what it is to mourn for a lost son of Gondor, so different from herself, who she never knew.
Title: Evenstar
Rating: G
Pairing: Arwen/Aragorn, Implied Aragorn/Boromir
Summary: Arwen learns about someone she never knew.
Disclaimer: Not mine at all.
Feedback: Is fondled, but not required. *g*
***
Her hair hangs long, dark and lustrous, never having been sun-washed and dusky golden. Her skin is soft and without flaw, timeless, never having been marked by the relentless passage of years or seasons or bearing scars. Her eyes are blue, deep with wisdom and bear no resemblance to the pale green leaves of a new spring. Her voice is lilting, strong and beautiful, not stilled forever. Her bed is warm and welcoming, not vacant, nor cold and abandoned.
She knows that somewhere in his heart he measures all this, that he measures what he has against what he does not have, can now never have. Even so, she holds no anger or bitterness for him; their love is true and abiding, and always will be. He is a mortal man, one of great worth and depth and she cannot fault his heart, as it was his heart that captured her at the first.
He still wears the symbol of her sacrifice, her devotion, on the mithril spun chain around his neck, as he also wears the symbol of a city and a memory, strapped snugly around each forearm. She watches as he wears both tokens with honor, pride and a deep, lingering sadness.
She has seen the turn of countless years and changes, yet did not know Boromir of Gondor. Now she stands as queen of his city and wonders about him. She asks, however subtly, about him. She reads of his younger years from one of many gilded, leather bound volumes dedicated to his family’s line found in the library, and she plans to read those still being written. She learns of his nature in the tales his still loyal subjects share willingly, as if he is only away and will return to them one bright morning.
She decides that one evening soon, she will sing about him and perhaps, just perhaps, Aragorn, who will not speak the name of Boromir in her presence save for when he dreams, might find his heart willing to at last, share something of the man he knew.
She looks to her husband to find his fingertips caressing the faint, but ever present symbol of the White Tree. She witnesses that gentle gesture, sees the bruise of memory in her beloved’s eyes. She feels his ache and in doing so learns it as her own, and somewhere in her heart, the Evenstar knows what it is to mourn for a lost son of Gondor, so different from herself, who she never knew.
