1. Still Would I Love You
The hills and forests were good enough, and the stubbly cheek of my husband. Not wanting to disturb him, I drew a long (white, of course) fingernail across his face. He looked so calm and beautiful, like an elf, probably lost in some dreamworld he had discovered in his library. I wanted to kiss his ear, his pointed nose, the place where his dark hair met his worn skin, but I couldn't bear to wake him. I just watched him.
Did Aragorn ever ponder the good he had done in the world? Every time I did something selfless I noted it in my head, saving it to remember: I had helped Éomer to catch a deer when we were hunting. Good, I wasn't useless. I had not strayed from Théoden's side, bewitched though he was. I was faithful. I had given Merry a chance to ride in battle, to be valiant, to serve his friends. I was understanding. I had slain the Witch-king.
But Aragorn, Aragorn; his entire life was full of fantastic deeds. His face was always glorious and experienced, merciful and good-natured, solid and strong, never weary or exasperated. I thought of Faramir's words to me again, and closed my eyes. I had loved him because I wished to be lifted above all the mean things of the earth. The mean was all I saw.
My eyes returned to my husband, and my torturous thoughts of morality continued. Perhaps I did not love Faramir; perhaps I was settling. Blood rose to my face at the thought, and I drew my fingers from his face and clenched them. Such a man did not deserve such harsh consideration. Faramir was brave and honorable in battle, learned and strong in mind, and noble in heart. He had given his love to me freely, he who had been kicked and forgotten since childhood by those who should have loved him the most—at this my fingers dug so firmly into the palms of my hands that I felt my skin protest.
There was no use thinking of any other. There was no other. When Faramir was near me there were no mean things in the earth, and no use at all to be lifted above them if it took me away from him.
Were I married to Aragorn, were I Arwen Undómiel, would I love my husband still?
Yes, Faramir. Still would I love you.
This is a work of fan fiction, written because the author has an abiding love for the works of J R R Tolkien. The characters, settings, places, and languages used in this work are the property of the Tolkien Estate, Tolkien Enterprises, and possibly New Line Cinema, except for certain original characters who belong to the author of the said work. The author will not receive any money or other remuneration for presenting the work on this archive site. The work is the intellectual property of the author, is available solely for the enjoyment of Henneth Annûn Story Archive readers, and may not be copied or redistributed by any means without the explicit written consent of the author.