Reflections
Disclaimer: Lord of the Rings is the property of J.R.R Tolkien. This story is just for fun. No money is being made.
Arwen was a beautiful lady. Aragorn fervently believed that were no words known to elf, dwarves, hobbits or men to describe her loveliness. A year of wedded bliss had neither changed nor dampened his views, but added to his disbelief that she, fairest of elves had chosen him above all others! A smile graced his stern visage at that pleasing thought.
The months after their wedding had been occupied with matters of the state. Though the war was won, Gondor had been ravaged, and many long nights had been spent planning her restoration to glory. In this, Faramir had proven invaluable. In spite of the pressing demands, they had made time for themselves. He couldn't have asked for a better counselor and friend. She was all he had dreamed of, a companion in every sense. He had always known it would be so; had dreamt of it around lonely fires and in strange countries, but, the reality was far better then all he had dreamed and hoped for.
In truth, he had been worried for her. She who had dwelt in the fair realms of Imladris and Lothlorien, what beauty would Gondor and its people hold for her? When asked she had laughed and remarked that Gondor held him and that was enough. The people of their realm, however, presented a strange conundrum. The Gondorion nobility were often offended by his forthright manner and ways. He was hard pressed to remember all the names, their relations and the honor to be given to them. He was plain spoken and was hardly inclined to exchange his manner to soothe some ruffled feathers. She, as would be expected of the daughter of Elrond, was mindful of the little matters and hardly gave any cause for offense. In fact, he thought wryly, some advisers would bring matters to her notice before him, trusting her better sense.
It wasn't always so, he thought darkly. The first few weeks were tumultuous for both. The people of Gondor were hardly pleased that their new found king had taken a Northern bride, and an elf at that. Her beauty as always was met with awe, yet it garnered distrust shown in the civil but cold manner of his court. In those days, he had often chided himself for forcing this choice on her. She who had been revered by her people was now battling queries innocuous in appearance but not in intent. She had weathered their distrust with equanimity, albeit there were moments when he had seen the shadow of doubt in her, perceivable to only those who knew her well. He had watched her carefully in those days. With an amused smile he admitted, that he would have watched her regardless of how things were, so new was the joy and novelty of having her close.
What a pair we must have made he mused now, an unkempt king appearing out of the mists of time with an elvish queen that had a propensity to walk barefoot. A low laugh escaped him at the thought. When the beauty of Gondor's queen had been acclaimed throughout the land, the nobility were inclined to unbend a little. Her grace and dignity had banished their remaining misgivings, though there were some still envious.
The common people, however, were wary of her. Fair beyond understanding, the elves were like legends to them. Though always respectful, their cautiousness, their fear had hurt Arwen more than the querulous statements of his council. They had held court together from the beginning. He could not be dissuaded from that. She was a skillful diplomat and her long years had afforded her great wisdom. The people who came to them understood and appreciated his direct ways, and although they listened whenever Arwen spoke, their manner was always reserved. He was relieved that after the passing of months, they had become more accustomed to her. He had reason to hope that in time they would learn to love her. His face lightened at the thought only to form a frown as he struggled with a new found, unaccustomed feeling.
He was not a jealous nor an unreasonable man. He had always accepted his lot and done his best. That Arwen was beautiful, he admitted and agreed with heartily. He understood, he told himself sternly, that compliments were a natural outcome for such a lovely appearance. In most cases, it was respectfully given and accepted in the same spirit by him. There were however overzealous statements that made his mouth tighten and darkened his eyes with unreasonable fury. It was not that she took offence; she was mirthful at the poetic ingenuity of some of the men that frequented their formal dinners, a trait that added to his irritation. When Arwen and he would visit the markets, the people would stare openly at their elvish queen. He did not fault them for that. Had he not stared himself when he had come upon her for the first time among the trees in Rivendell? Yet, there were less reputed characters among the crowd that had made him insist that she never travel unaccompanied. Another freedom he had to insist she gave up, he had lamented. Arwen assured him she was happy, and he acknowledged it himself, yet, he could not help regretting every small loss she encountered. He had been greatly relieved when Legolas had disclosed his plans of creating a colony in Ithilien. He had taken pleasure in the thought that her kind would be so near. Although she was content in her choice, sometimes almost inadvertently her eyes would briefly stray to the West. In the days following their wedding, his stomach would clench in dread as her eyes would stray. He had wondered then, that now that their hopes were fulfilled was it all she had desired? His doubts were laid to rest when one evening she had wondered aloud whether her Adar was as content as she, whether Celebrian had healed. He had reassured her, dispelling the gloom above them both.
A sound startled him, but he soon relaxed as he realized it was time for the changing of the guard. Arwen stirred beside him, her silver eyes widening to wakefulness as she realized he was awake.
"What keeps you awake Estel?" she asked. "If it is Lord Doran's talk, pay no heed! He had a little too much wine. I am certain he meant no harm."
"I am certain he did not wish to make you laugh either. Really meleth you could have restrained. His wife was hardly pleased." he said reproachfully.
"The famed elven composure can only withstand so much provocation" she replied unperturbed. "In the name of truth you must admit that his effort at poetry was unintentionally amusing" Her eyes twinkled at him and drew a laugh out of him.
"I was not dwelling solely on Lord Doran's abysmal behavior" he replied after the laughter had died down. "My thoughts wandered on to different paths altogether."At her inquisitive look he went on. "Much has changed since our reign began. I was pondering the difficulties encountered."
Impulsively she reached for his hand and kissed it. "My love, if you could you would take all upon yourself and spare me none. But, such is not the way of the world and I would not have it so."
"You have lost much" he said quietly.
"As have you" she replied. "As have many who have lived in these times. Do not look to grief and guilt when there is much joy left."
"As always your words comfort me Undomiel" he said cradling her face.
"Indeed I am content." she replied. "With men like Lord Doran at hand to sing my praises, I do not wish to be anywhere else."
His answering frown could not stem her laughter.