I watched Faramir with the Lady Éowyn when first we arrived in the White City, and felt a stab of envy. It is worse now when I watch Aragorn with his bride. I remember seeing the Lady Arwen within Rivendell, and realizing that this was a vision of loveliness such as I’d never seen before. I even saw Aragorn standing beside her and her father, dressed in Elven armor, there in the Hall of Fire--if that was not a dream brought on by Bilbo’s poem. I did not realize then that he loved her, and she him. Not until she arrived from Rivendell with her father and her grandparents, her brothers returning at her side, did I realize that it was she for whom Aragorn had been waiting, and that the two of them were to be wed.
There is no question that they love one another, whether or not they touch--not now, here where they are reunited, where they have just been married to one another. Each glance that causes their faces to shine in quiet joy, each smile shared--these tell the tale clearly enough.
To have such glances cast my way, or to share such smiles with one such as the Lady Arwen----
Ah, but my heart bleeds for such bliss, even as I rejoice that this, my beloved friend, knows what I can not.