Arwen sat alone across the camp lost in her thoughts. She had quitted her grandparents and companions to return to the camp for a moment of solitude. As she sat gazing into the evening sky, the invigorating night air did little to rejuvenate her spirits. The day had triggered deep emotions within her. The memories of her mother were wholly present in her mind. The yearning to see her once more was awoken. She stifled a gasp as the recollection of her mother’s fragrance deluged her. “Will you truly understand my decision, Mother?” she whispered softly to herself. She was inundated by the concern of incurring additional anguish to her mother. It had been a challenging day and the evening, which was her favorite time of the day, brought diminutive solace. The longing for her kin in Valinor plagued her thoughts.

She was resolute in her decision to cleave to Aragorn but she could not escape the painful consequence of her choice. Often, she had envisioned the joyful reunion with the rest of her kin who all resided in the Blessed Land of Aman. Since the days of her youth her father had shown her the light of Earendil set among the stars in the evening sky. There, she learned, her paternal grandfather sailed often in the seas of heaven with the light of the Silmaril bound to his forehead while he sat at the helm of Vingilot, his ship. Through the years she had hoped that when at last she forsook Middle-earth and diminished into the west that she would finally meet Elwing and Earendil whom she had grown to love dearly. She closed her eyes as she fought to suppress her sorrow.

With the passing of Galadriel and her father the ancient world would finally fade since Gildor, Erestor, Glorfindel and the other High Elves would depart with them. In Middle-earth therefore, the line of the High elven kings in Valinor would only be preserved in her and her brothers. The union of her parents directly descended them from the lines of Elwe, Olwe, Finwe, and Ingwe: the High kings of the Teleri, Noldor, and Vanyar elves. Her thoughts turned to the city of Eldamar, the home of her Noldor kin. She pined to walk the streets of Eldamar and dance upon the green hill of Tuna where the city of Tirion shines brightly. To look upon the tree of Galathilion, the sire of Nimloth, the White Tree of the king of Gondor, that Yavanna had wrought for the elves in likeness to Telperion many ages past. It was the birthplace of Galadriel who often satiated her curiosity of Valinor with engaging stories of the city of Tirion and the city of Alqualonde, the Haven of the Swans.

Many things she and her brothers learned from their grandmother for her knowledge was great. “I will dearly miss her when she leaves,” Arwen thought to herself. In her youth, Galadriel often entertained her with stories of her three brothers in Valinor. Most especially she loved hearing about Finrod Felagund, Galadriel’s golden haired brother. Several times she had pleaded with her grandmother to retell the story of Finrod’s aid to Beren during his quest for the Silmaril. His sacrifice for Beren in the dungeon of Sauron deeply touched her heart and for that he had earned her love. When no one else would aid Beren in his perilous quest to retrieve a Silmaril from the crown of the dark lord Morgoth, Finrod accompanied him willingly though acutely cognizant of the daunting risk of undertaking such a quest. Beren, she thought was a determined man. He was steadfast in his love for Luthien and his courage never wavered.

Unconsciously twisting the ring she wore on her middle right finger, she was drawn to thoughts of its history. It was the ring of Barahir that Aragorn had given to her many years ago on the hill of Cerin Amroth when they had plighted their troth to each other. The ring, she knew, was originally FinrodÂ’s ring. He had given it to Barahir, BerenÂ’s father, as a token of his sworn oath of friendship with him and all his descendents. This pledge he had made to Barahir in demonstration of his gratitude for BarahirÂ’s selfless act of saving his life in Dagor Bragollach, the Battle of Sudden Flame. The ring had descended to Elwing, her grandmother, but became an heirloom of the line of Elros, her fatherÂ’s brother and first king of Numenor, since her father had relinquished all claims to it. Consequently, the ring descended to Aragorn who, through his union with her, reunited the blood of Elwing and Earendil.

She shifted in the chair as she continued her musing. The healing power of Lothlorien, the realm of her grandparents, was a welcoming thought to her state of mind. She was fatigued by her emotions. Countless years ago Galadriel had told her that Lothlorien was patterned after the realm of Lorien in Valinor. It was there that Melian, also one of her foremothers, resided prior to her sojourn in Middle-earth. From her was sprung Luthien Tinuviel, the fairest of all the children of Illuvator that was or ever shall be. Thus, through Melian, a strain of the Ainur was present in her blood, for Melian was a Maiar and from the race of the Valar. Like Gandalf, she was with Illuvator before the world was created. Her beauty and wisdom was great and Galadriel profited significantly from her teachings during her stay in the kingdom of Doriath in the Eldar days. Often Arwen had wondered what MelianÂ’s emotion would have been when at last she beheld her in Valinor for many of the elves who still resided in Middle-earth from the Eldar days thought her to bear a strong likeness to Luthien Tuniviel, Daughter of twilight and MelianÂ’s most beloved and only child.

She was jolted from her reflections when a shadow fell upon her.

“Lady Evenstar, forgive me if I startled you.” Faramir said apologetically. “May I join you?” Arwen nodded and he seated himself across from her. Gazing up into the sky, he unconsciously voiced, “I love this time of day. The evening is so serene and the stars are brilliant.”

“From childhood I loved the evening and most importantly the light of the stars. My mother it was who first told me of Varda, the Valar and Lady of Stars. My people also call her Elbereth. Of all the Valar we hold her most in reverence and love,” she told Faramir.

“I have some knowledge of ancient lore by long tradition though I know nothing of Elven lore. In the house of Denethor, my father, there were many things preserved. Books, tablets, writ on withered parchment, on stone, and on leaves of gold and silver. Some none now can read for they were written in divers characters, but a little I can read for I had teaching,” Faramir voiced regretfully.

A distant look was in his eyes as he continued, “When the line of the kings were broken, as a people, the waning of our knowledge accelerated. We are now grown more like to lesser men. We can no longer claim the title of High. Gone is the glory of our skills, beauty, and knowledge. As the Rohirrim do, we now love war and valor as things good in themselves. Though we still hold that a warrior should also possess skills and knowledge other than the craft of weapon and slaying, we esteem the warrior nonetheless above men of other crafts. Men grow more like Boromir, my brother, who loved the sword and the glory of victory.” He paused momentarily with pain of the reflection.

“For myself, I found no pleasure in battle. The sharpness of the sword, the swiftness of the arrow and the glory of victory are things that I do not love in and of themselves. I love only what they defended: the city of the men of Numenor and its people. With the coming of King Elessar, my hope is renewed. Gondor can now be loved once more for her memory, her ancientry, her beauty, and wisdom,” he ended optimistically.

The memory of the AragornÂ’s crowning thrived in his mind. On that day, the pride of Numenor was revived. Hope was kindled for the city and its people. The king had returned and those who doubted the reality of his return had only to look to the Tower of Ecthelion, the topmost tower of the Citadel, where the standard of the king blew gently in the wind. Magnificent it was and of great beauty. Against the black of the cloth flowered the White Tree with seven stars about it and a high crown above it. The stars flamed in the sunlight for they were wrought of gems and the crown was bright in the morning for it was wrought of mithril and gold. And so it was that the signs of the House of Elendil, after many years uncounted, had returned to Gondor. In later days when he had commented on the splendor of the standard, Aragorn had told him it was fashioned by the skill of Queen Evenstar.

At length Arwen spoke. “The restoration of knowledge to the people of Gondor is undeniably a concern. A challenging road lies ahead of us, but nevertheless, we intend to tread it. It may be years before results are manifested but we have only to hold to our purpose.”

As Faramir listened to her, he was reminded of his conversation with Frodo and Sam several months earlier in Henneth Annun. Back then they had spoken of many things including the Lady of the Golden Wood. He had never imagined that with the return of the king legends from the past would grace the city of Minas Tirith. A strange fate it was that the heir of Isildur of whom Frodo then spoke, would reintroduce their world to that of the Eldar even if it was only for a little while. From the conversations shared along the road, he knew that the elves were soon to depart Middle-earth though a few years of men had yet to expire before that journey.

His attention was recalled when Arwen said, “You are obviously fond of ancient lore. Is it your wish then to learn elven lore?”

“If time permitted it, you would have an avid pupil,” he answered, “but there is a great deal still to be accomplished in the weeks ahead. The preparation of my home in Ithilien constrains my leisure time and as the new steward of Gondor there are many plans of the King that I have yet to execute.”

The strain in his voice was apparent as he uttered the last statement. Arwen sensed his desire to speak but he seemed to await her encouragement. “Your father it was that taught you ancient lore?” she asked.

“Aye,” he answered, “he was a noble man whose wisdom was great. He was also proud and delighted immensely in his lineage. My mother died when I was but five years of age. Of her I remember only a vision of loveliness. She was sister to Prince Imrahil, Lord of Dol Amroth, and for that I love him greatly. My father never remarried and solely, he raised Boromir and me. In some ways we shared similarities but I presume it was primarily in our mutual quest for knowledge and our love of ancient lore. But for all his wisdom, I can say that it failed him miserably in the end.” A look of weariness clouded his visage. He had endured numerous losses of kin and companions in the pre and post events of the siege of Gondor and it was a wonder he was able to find some semblance of inner peace.

Cautiously, Arwen asked, “You allude to his use of the Palantir?”

“Indeed,” Faramir answered heavily. “I know only a little of the history of its actual use primarily because the records were closed to me. Beside the Ruling Steward, the records were only available to the Steward’s heir. Boromir, being the elder son, was privy to this information although I am certain he never read any of it. However, I do know that the tradition regarding the Palantiri and their use were preserved in the special archives of the Stewards but I never gave thought to them. For the most part, they had passed out of the knowledge of men and their use was reduced to the legend of the elvish powers of past kings. If Boromir had known of our father’s use of the Palantir, he would have told me.”

“From all that I have heard of your father,” Arwen stated, “he must have been a man of exceedingly strong-will. It matters not even if you knew he was using the Anor-stone. As the Ruling Steward of Gondor it was his lawful right to use the Palantir. Indeed he must have possessed great strength of mind to elude the domination of Sauron. It is true that the Palantiri are amenable to legitimate users and mostly so to the heirs of Elendil, but your father, I understand, retained the integrity of his personality before his wisdom failed.”

She reached over and took Faramir’s hand as she solemly said, “Faramir, I did not have the courage before now to convey my condolences to you on the loss of your kinsmen. Estel enlightened me on the events that transpired before your father’s death and for a while now I desired to express my sympathies but the fear of awaking painful memories hindered me. If nothing else, take comfort that in the end his love for you was revealed.” Faramir’s eyes misted in remembrance and Arwen squeezed his hand in reassurance. He smiled gratefully as memories of the past engaged his emotions.

In that moment, as she looked at him, Arwen was slightly reminded of Aragorn. “Here is a man reminiscent of the men of Westernesse,” she thought. “The blood of Numenor runs almost true within him.” She delighted in her new friendships. Faramir, Eomer, and Prince Imrahil were all honorable men and she thoroughly enjoyed making their acquaintance. Through their recent amity with Aragorn, they had now become a part of her future life. She sat silently engrossed in her thoughts until Faramir recovered his calm. She thought his resilience over the past several months was admirable. He had undergone so much in such a short duration of time.

Breaking the silence, Arwen said, “From your knowledge of ancient lore, you must know that the use of the Palantiri was originally harmless. They were wrought in the land of Aman by my thrice-great uncle Feanor. Amandil, Elendil’s father, received from the elves of Tol-Eressea these stones for his use during their years of estrangement. The stones he utilized to communicate with the Eldar of Tol-Eressea against the orders of his kin, the King of Numenor. When the downfall of Numenor came, Elendil brought with him to Middle-earth these seven seeing-stones. They were divided between the two kingdoms established in Middle-earth. Three in the north kingdom of Arnor with Elendil and four in the south kingdom of Gondor with Anarion and Isildur. These they used to communicate between the two realms. Hence, their use was not evil. From all that Estel has told me of recent events, Sauron must have acquired the Ithil-stone after his servants captured Minas-ithil and transformed it into Minas Morgul. Only then was the use of the Anor-stone questionable. At some point during his use, your father must have discovered that the Ithil-stone was in evil hands and risked contact with Sauron. However, unlike Saruman, Sauron did not seduce him. That alone is testimony to the strength of his mind though his legitimate right to use the stone must have also aided him. Sauron undoubtedly deceived him, but from all that I have heard, he never succumbed to his will. In hindsight, his folly lied in looking to Mordor and exposing himself to Sauron’s deceits especially since the Anor-stone was most in accord with the Ithil-stone that Sauron possessed. But Faramir, your father’s initial intent was probably geared toward seeking knowledge of things far and wide before his ruinous interaction with Sauron.”

They were both silent for a while lost in their own thoughts. “Now tell me of Boromir,” Arwen encouraged. “I saw him briefly in Rivendell but only from afar.”

FaramirÂ’s expression brightened as if a fair memory consumed his thoughts. His love for Boromir was visible. He gathered his thoughts as Arwen sat waiting expectantly then launched into entertaining stories of their childhood. Before long, their spirits were elevated and their laughter soon drew the attention of Aragorn and Gandalf who wandered over in curiosity. The two joined them and there followed a lengthy exchange of amusing childhood tales.

When all had retired, except for the presence of the guards, Faramir sat alone around the campfire. The grief he felt for his kin was for now lessened. His thoughts turned to the future. In a few days he would see again Eowyn, the White Lady of Rohan, as he had so named her. In her was the promise of happiness and fulfillment. A smile warmed his face when he reflected on the past time they shared together in Minas Tirith. He was anxious for the time when she would move permanently to Gondor but suspected that she wanted to assist Eomer before leaving Rohan. “If that is your wish, dearest, I will certainly grant it,” he thought, “after all, we have the rest of our lives to share together.” For some time he remained under the stars engaged in thoughts of Eowyn until at last he retired with the third changing of the guards.

Meanwhile, in their tent, Aragorn approached Arwen as she sat brushing her hair. She paused as he placed his hands on her shoulders and bent to plant a kiss atop her head. As was customary in their private conversations, he spoke to her in the elvish tongue as he said with concern, “Vanimelda, if I am not mistaken, there was something that weighed heavily upon your mind earlier this evening.”

Arwen spun around on the stool to face him as he knelt in front of her while she sat. She took his hand clasping it between both of hers as she kept her gaze downward as if pondering her response. Slowly she raised her eyes to meet his inquiring gaze as she said, “I know it was never your fate to meet them, but if it was otherwise, would it have pleased you to meet Elwing and Earendil?”

For a fleeting moment a pained expression covered his face, as he fully comprehended the source of her sorrow. Arwen misread his thoughts as she quickly said, “Estel, never doubt my choice or the enormity of my love for you.” Aragorn made to interrupt her but she placed her fingers against his lips to silence him. “I know there will be future moments like these but with the strength of your support, I know I will endure.”

“That you will, vanimelda,” Aragorn confirmed as he raised his hand to gently caress her face. “As long as there is life within me, I am here for you. For you I value above everything in this world.” Arwen tightly embraced him in acknowledgement of his declaration. Always, she felt secure in his arms and his reassurance was conciliating. Her sorrow was suspended for a while and she yielded to the comfort of his arms. He kissed her lightly as he rose to his feet to prepare for bed.

“Oh, and to answer you question, it would have pleased me considerably to have met them,” he told Arwen. “As a ranger in the wild there were several nights when I laid under the evening sky gazing at the stars and thoughts of them occupied my mind.”

Arwen was pleased. The knowledge that her husband understood the depth of her sorrow appeased her. She knew he possessed the forbearance to anchor her during periods of dejection and for that she was grateful. She soon joined him in bed where the both of them soon succumbed to the exhaustion resulting from the events of the day.