A Memory of Loveliness

Denethor watches his son with painful amusement. “Arbelethiel is lovely tonight.” The boy reddens, but agrees firmly.

“Do not be hasty, Faramir. I was many years older than you before I met your mother. Some said she was too young for me, but I have never regretted waiting until I was certain I had met the only woman for me.”

He realizes what he has said is true, not merely an argument mouthed for prudence. He remembers Finduilas’ slenderness, wrapped in her blue mantle. Perhaps he will pass it on to one of his sons, should they take a wife…

[for Astara, who wanted Denethor and/or Finduilas]