In The Presence Of Beauty
Frodo sees Arwen for the first time
She sits beneath an awning,
Sparkling like sun through the rain.
She looks like Elrond in a way;
Only daughter of the Edain.
Dress in a gown of simple weave,
Her hair a fall of silk,
Dark as my dreams and untouched by frost,
Her skin smooth and fair as milk.
Arwen she is named.
As her wise eyes touch on me,
Just a Hobbit, weary and maimed,
I feel something I have never felt;
A new emotion to explore.
That such beauty exists at all,
That such a face is here to adore,
I have not imagined.
And in the Hall of Fire,
When Aragorn meets her clad in green,
I witness their desire.
And I am content to know that she is real.