Title: The Princess and the Hobbit
Author (including email): wildemoose (KrazyActor@aol.com)
Pairing(s): Eowyn/Elanor Gamgee
Rating: NC17
Summary: Working as a lady-in-waiting for Queen Arwen, Elanor meets Eowyn, who
gives her some lessons in more than just swordplay.
Disclaimer: As much as I wish I did, I do not own these characters. I am also a
poor college student, so if you sue me, you'll get nothin'.
Archive: Library of Moria, otherwise please ask
Warning (only if necessary): none
Authors Note (if needed/desired): Written in response to A. Vulgarweed's plot
bunny--hope you like it, A.! Feedback is great, bearing in mind that this is my
first graphic sex fic--please be kind. I also couldn't think of a good title, so
sorry about that.

   "Father!" Elanor cried as she ran into the hobbit-hole, her curly
golden hair streaming behind her. "Father, where are you?"

   "Calm yourself, my lass," Sam Gamgee said, smiling, as he entered from
the kitchen. Though it did not show in his face or his manner, he was annoyed
at the interruption. Sam had been busy all day with work and his many children,
and evening was the only time he was able to relax with his pipe. Indeed, he
had that item in his hand and had been packing it with his finest pipe-weed when
Elanor called him. He looked at his oldest daughter and said, "Here I am,
Elanor. What is it?"

   "Father, some of the boys are taking their fathers' ponies and going on
an adventure, may I go too?"

   "An adventure, eh? Well, well..." said Sam, lighting his pipe and
settling into his favorite easy chair. "Which boys are these? And where do
they propose to go?"

   "Oh, all the boys, Father. Fastred is going, and you know how much you
like him. And they want to..." Elanor paused, not knowing what her father's
reaction was going to be. "They want to go to Rivendell. To see the
Elves."

   "Rivendell!" Sam sat straight up in his chair. He remembered the first
time he had seen the house of Elrond -- how beautiful it had been to him, and how
magical the Elves had seemed. Certainly, certainly his daughter must see it,
must experience what he had -- some of the happiest and most comfortable days of
his life had been spent there. But then he remembered what the visit to
Rivendell had led to; he had lost nearly a year of his life, had experienced
pain and sacrifice beyond anything he had thought himself capable of. He had
lived through things that he could not bring himself to tell anyone about, not
even his wife or well-beloved oldest child. Sam's reverie was broken by the
pleading voice of his daughter. 

   "Please, father?"

   "No, daughter. I cannot allow it. I am sorry, but you must stay at
home. Your mother cannot spare you -- she needs help with all your younger
brothers and sisters. And Rivendell is much too far -- why, it must be two or
three weeks' journey. I'm surprised that your friends' parents are
letting them go."

   "But father --"

   "I said no!" Both Sam and Elanor were surprised at the vehemence and
anger in his voice, but he went on. "What need does a hobbit have to leave
the Shire? None! What need does a hobbit have for adventure? None! Stay
where you are, daughter. Stay and be safe."

   "But Father..." Elanor's words dropped to a whisper; never before in
her life had her father raised his voice to her. "You left." Sam's face
hardened. Memories flooded over him, words and faces long forgotten came back
in a rush.


Don't you leave him, Samwise Gamgee, and I don't mean to. I don't mean
to...don't leave me here alone! It's your Sam calling! Don't go where I
can't follow...I'll get there, if I leave everything but my bones behind...


   "Father, are you all right?" Elanor's eyes were full of concern as
she stared at Sam. "What is wrong?" Sam's eyes were full of tears, but
his voice was steady. 

   "You're right, daughter, you're right. I did leave. And I saw
things that I..." His voice trailed off.

   "Oh, Father, won't you tell me about them? You know I've always
wanted to hear, and I --"

   "No, Elanor. Maybe someday. But not now. And we'll find some other
kind of adventure for you, I promise."

   "But Rivendell..."

   "Elanor. I said no."


  Elanor was still sulking two weeks later when the letter came. She saw her
father take it from the strange-looking messenger, read it, and retreat into his
study with her mother, a sure sign that something serious was taking place. She
supposed it was Shire business -- after all, Sam was the Mayor, and there was
always something going on that needed his attention. "Maybe Orcs are
attacking the Shire," she muttered to herself, "and he'll let me go and
fight."

  "Elanor!" Sam called. "Could you come here a moment, please?" When
she walked into Sam's study, she could see that both he and Rose were wearing
odd expressions, and she wondered if she had done something wrong. 
"Elanor," Sam began, "you remember our conversation of a few weeks ago?"

  "Of course," Elanor said, rolling her eyes. Sam almost smiled at the
rebellious tween she had become, seemingly overnight -- so unlike himself at her
age -- but he forced himself to frown at her flippancy.

  "I've received this letter from my old friend Stri -- I mean, Aragorn,
King of Gondor. His wife, Queen Arwen, is looking for a lady-in-waiting, and he
remembered that I had a daughter about the right age. He thought..." Sam
smiled at the thought. "He thought that any child of mine might be feeling
the urge to travel a bit before settling down. What do you say, Elanor? Are
you willing to go?" Elanor could not believe what was happening.

  "Leave the Shire?"

  "Yes. For a few years, until you come of age. Then you'll come back
and settle down with a family of your own."

  "But you said...Father, you said that no hobbit should leave the Shire."

  "I did, yes. But at least this way I'll know you're safe under
Arwen's protection, not off in the woods with a bunch of silly young hobbits. 
A bit of a compromise, eh, daughter?" Sam's kind brown eyes twinkled as
Elanor hugged him with a force that would have choked a weaker hobbit. In
truth, he did not want her to go. But Minas Tirith had not the connotation in
his mind that Rivendell did -- of the starting point for danger. Elanor's
wanderlust would be satisfied. And she would be safe. That was all that
mattered.


  A month or so into her stay at Minas Tirith, Elanor began to wonder if she
had made the right decision. Of course, Queen Arwen was kind and beautiful, and
the King wasn't as fierce as he looked once you really got to know him, and
the city was fun to explore, and for the first time in her life she didn't
have to share a bedroom with five sisters, but...something was missing. Perhaps
her father had been right. Perhaps she should never have left the Shire. 
Elanor had thought that the Big People would be full of tales, about heroes and
bravery, and most of all, the important things her father had done that he would
never talk about. She had thought that King Aragorn would tell her all about
the time he and her father had spent together so long ago. She had thought that
the ladies of the court would sit around and gossip about all the quests their
husbands had gone on, and how many Orcs they had slain, and how many battles
they had fought.

  But King Aragorn was busy, of course, with all the things a king must do,
and the ladies never seemed to have anything more interesting to talk about than
what the weather was like, or who had been taken to the Houses of Healing, or
what kind of embroidery they were working on. Even Queen Arwen, who rarely sat
and gossiped with the ladies, was always out riding, or advising the King on
matters of state, or entertaining official guests. Finally, Elanor decided that
she would have to take matters into her own hands. If no one was going to talk
about adventures, she was just going to have to ask.

  "Milady," she said one day as she sat mending a gown, and Arwen read an
important-looking scroll, "Milady, did you know my father when he was
young?" Arwen looked up.

  "Yes, Elanor, though not very well. Of course, I heard of his deeds as
everyone did, and my husband was a very close friend of his. Why do you ask?"

  "Well, milady, it's his deeds, as you call them, that I'm thinking of. 
You see, he never talks of them, and though it's not my place to ask, I
wondered if maybe you could tell me."

  "Tell you what, Elanor? I'm not sure I understand."

  "Why, madam, of all the things he did! With Mr. Aragorn, and Mr. Frodo,
and Cousin Merry, and all them. I've heard some tell of a Ring, and a Dark
Lord, but that's all I can ever get out of anybody. I want to know about his
adventures! And I feel..." Elanor was a little abashed at this long speech to
a woman whose rank was so far above hers, but she went on doggedly with typical
hobbit bravado. "I feel, as his eldest daughter, that I've a right to
know." Arwen almost laughed, but she quickly put on a stern face.

  "Elanor, my dear, I'm sure that it's not my place to tell you things
about your father that he himself has not seen fit to discuss with you. If he
hasn't spoken of his past to you, he must have a good reason for it. No,
Elanor, I don't believe it would be right. But," she continued, seeing the
hobbit lass's face fall and tears form in her eyes, "some evening, when the
King isn't busy with anything, I'll have him tell you some stories that
should satisfy your need to hear about adventure. Would that be all right?" 
Elanor smiled a bit wanly. In truth, this was not all right -- she wanted to
hear about her father, not King Aragorn -- but the Queen was offering her a gift,
and there was only one thing she could say.

  "Yes, milady."


  To Elanor, it seemed as if that day would never come. The King was always
busy these days -- there were rumors of possible attacks, and Orcs, and all sorts
of things that Elanor didn't understand. Months went by, and still no one
would tell her anything she wanted to hear. And just when she was on the point
of reminding Queen Arwen of her promise, all thoughts of unimportant matters
were swept away by the arrival of a noble visitor.

  Elanor stood behind Arwen as the Queen waited at the gates of Minas Tirith
for the royal party to approach. After what seemed like hours, Elanor could see
a large green banner and a troop of pure white horses coming over the horizon,
riding with great speed toward the place where she and Arwen stood. The Queen
gave a joyful shout and ran out to meet them, with the dutiful Elanor following
behind as fast as her short hobbit legs could carry her. The party of horses
stopped, and a rider dismounted. Even from a distance, Elanor could see that it
was a woman, a tall woman with hair even longer and more golden than Elanor's
own. As she drew closer, Elanor could also see that the woman did not look
healthy. She was paler and thinner than she should have been, and there were
dark circles under her eyes. Even with these flaws, Elanor thought that this
blonde lady was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. She was staring
dumbly at the rider when Queen Arwen ran up and threw her arms around her.

  "Eowyn! You've come at last!" she cried. "But, oh, have you been
ill? You don't look well." Eowyn shook her head impatiently.

  "I am all right! Why does everyone keep asking me how I feel?" Arwen
smiled at her friend's characteristic display of spirit.

  "All right, then, all right. But at any rate, you've had a long ride,
and you must be tired. Come, we must get you inside. A good meal and a bath, I
think, and then to bed." Eowyn dismounted; but as she did so, her foot caught
in the stirrup and she stumbled, almost falling to the ground. As she righted
herself, her eyes met those of Elanor, who was staring at Eowyn intently. 
Eowyn's piercing blue eyes staring directly into her own gave Elanor a funny
feeling in her stomach, like the time she had eaten a bad mushroom. She had an
overwhelming desire to touch Eowyn's face; it looked so soft, so smooth...but
as she reached out her hand, Eowyn stood up straight, recovered from her shock. 

  "Well, well..." Eowyn murmured to Arwen. "And who is this?"

  "Eowyn, let me introduce you to my lady-in-waiting. Elanor, this is the
Lady Eowyn, my closest friend."

  "You're a Halfling," Eowyn said to Elanor.

  "Yes, madam. Hobbits, we call ourselves. I'm Elanor, Elanor Gamgee."

  "Gamgee!" said Eowyn, with some surprise. "There was a very famous
Halfling once, named Sam Gamgee. I don't suppose -- "

"Yes, madam! I'm his daughter!" cried Elanor, surprised. "Oh, madam,
you've heard of my father?"

  "Indeed," said Eowyn, smiling. "Who has not heard of the famous
Samwise Gamgee?"

  "Everyone has heard of him, except me, it seems!" Elanor burst out. 
"Oh, milady, no one will tell me! I came here to hear stories of battles and
adventures, and no one will even tell me what my own father did!"

  "Well, well, little Halfling," mused Eowyn. "You are spirited,
aren't you?" With horror, Elanor realized what she had done -- first
interrupted a noble lady, and then shouted at her. She hung her head in shame,
expecting Eowyn to turn to Arwen and insist that she dismiss Elanor from her
service at once. Instead, she looked up to find that Eowyn was laughing. 

"Don't be afraid," she said. "I like spirit in anyone. Especially when
it seems that my own has been lost..." She paused, and a sad shadow crept
over her face. Arwen and Elanor both saw it, and Arwen touched Eowyn's arm
softly.

  "All right, I know," said Eowyn. "Really, Arwen, you mustn't be so
concerned for me." She smiled down at Elanor's upturned face. "We will
talk again, little Halfling." Arm in arm, the two women hurried through the
gates. Elanor was left behind, staring after them, fascinated and speechless. 
She had thought that Queen Arwen was beautiful, but this golden lady put her to
shame. Elanor had never even imagined that such loveliness existed. She wanted
to touch it, she had to know if it was real -- but Eowyn had already gone inside.
  

  A few days later, Elanor sat alone in the sewing room of the palace, mending
some of the ladies' dresses. The room was big and empty, and Elanor shivered
as she worked. Sewing was one of her least favorite tasks, but the court ladies
had realized that small hobbit hands make small stitches, and they were eager
for their gowns to reflect such fine workmanship. As she worked, Elanor's
mind wandered. For reasons she could not explain, she could not stop thinking
about Eowyn. She imagined her smell, her voice, the feel of her hair on
Elanor's cheek, the feel of her skin under Elanor's hand. These thoughts
had always troubled her, even back in the Shire, when she would find herself
daydreaming, not about the lads like she was supposed to, but about the other
lasses. She was sure that there was something terribly wrong with her, that she
was the only female in Middle Earth who thought this way; but still, she could
not help that Eowyn's face floated before her in her sleep...that in her
dreams she could feel Eowyn's body touching hers...

  "Stop it," Elanor told herself. "Lasses mustn't think about other
lasses this way. Why must you be always doing this? It's wrong, it's
dirty, it's -- " Elanor's concentration was broken by the sound of a step
behind her, and she whirled around. There stood Eowyn, a sword and a dagger in
her hand.

  "Anyone ever teach you to fight, little Halfling?" Elanor's surprise
left her almost speechless, but she managed to stutter out a reply.

  "No -- no, milady."

  "Then take this." Eowyn tossed the dagger to Elanor, who caught it
deftly by the hilt. "Not a bad catch. You're sure you've never learned
swordplay?"

  "N -- never, not at all, milady...I didn't know women used swords,
leastways, not hobbit women."

  "My people learned long ago that those without swords can still die upon
them. You spoke of adventure, Elanor. I'll teach you how to make your own
adventure. You won't need to depend upon the stories of others."

  "Yes, milady." Elanor doubted that very much, but she was not about to
refuse the gift of time in Eowyn's presence.

  "All right. Now. Let's begin."

  Eowyn's lesson went on for an hour, and by the end of that time Elanor was
thoroughly exhausted. Her sword was only a dagger in Eowyn's grip, but it was
still too big for her hobbit hands.

  "All right, Elanor. Are you tired? Let's rest for a bit."

  "Thank you...milady..." gasped the red-faced Elanor. Eowyn looked at
her with concern.

  "Are you all right? I'm so sorry, I didn't realize..."

  "It's all right, milady, I'm fine..." said Elanor, almost collapsing
across the sewing table. Eowyn placed her hand on the side of Elanor's neck. 
To Elanor it felt deliciously soft and cool; again she felt something unbidden
stirring inside her.

  "Your pulse is very fast. Here, drink this." Eowyn went to the small
fountain in the middle of the room and returned with a dipper of water, which
she placed in Elanor's hands.

  "Thank you, milady. I'm sorry I -- "

  "No, no, Elanor, it's I who should be sorry. I'd forgotten how small
you were." She patted Elanor on the cheek. "I've enjoyed myself today. 
Would you like another lesson sometime? I promise, we'll start off
slower -- " The words were hardly out of Eowyn's mouth when Elanor nodded her
head vigorously.

  "Oh, yes please, milady."

  "Very well. Tomorrow, then."


  There was another lesson tomorrow, and indeed, the next day and the next. 
As the weeks passed, Elanor became more and more skilled with the blade, and
Eowyn began to realize that the hobbit lass was the best companion she could ask
for, an eager listener and a quick learner. After every lesson, Elanor would
ask Eowyn for stories of adventure and heroes, and Eowyn would almost always
oblige. Soon, however, Elanor became tired of stories about heroes from long
ago; she wanted to hear tales of people she knew, or at least knew of. She had
overheard the ladies in the court discussing Eowyn, and had gathered that Eowyn
had participated in a few battles herself, but of the details she had heard
nothing. She resolved, therefore, to ask Eowyn about it the next time they met. 
After her next lesson, while they were both resting on a stone bench, Elanor
began to gather her courage.

  "Well, Elanor, you've been awfully quiet today," Eowyn was saying. 
"Usually by this time you're begging for a story; don't you want to hear
one? I was reading a tale about Gil-Galad last night that I thought you'd
like very much."

  "Milady," said Elanor softly, "of all the tales you've told me,
there's one that I would still dearly love to hear."

  "Why, of course. Which is that?"

  "Your own, milady."

  "My own? Whatever do you mean?"

  "Your own tale, about your own adventures. I know you've had some -- I
heard the ladies talking. And I know it had to do with Cousin Merry. Please,
milady, I want to hear." Eowyn's face grew pale, and for a moment Elanor
was afraid she would faint. Then she saw the woman's eyes fill with tears,
and she was overcome with remorse. "Oh, milady! Oh, I'm that sorry, madam. 
Don't think about it, if it pains you." Elanor's eyes, too, began to fill
with tears of shame and guilt that she had brought sadness upon the lady she
loved.

  "No, no, Elanor, I'm the one who should apologize, for being so stupid
as to cry. It was all so long ago, and I've avoided thinking about it for so
many years. But it weighs heavy on my heart, just the same, and I fear these
memories are what made me ill and weak."

  "Won't you tell me, then, milady?" whispered Elanor. "It may
lighten you." And Eowyn did. She told Elanor everything, about riding out
disguised as a man with Merry underneath her cloak, about seeing her uncle
Theoden killed by his own horse, and how she and Merry had defeated the Lord of
the Nazgul. When she came to the end of her tale, Elanor was weeping, but
Eowyn's eyes were dry.

  "You were right, Elanor," she said softly, putting her own face close to
Elanor's tear-stained cheeks. "It has lightened me to tell it." Elanor
could hardly breathe, feeling Eowyn's soft cheek so close to her face, her
warm breath so close to her lips. Only the subtlest of movements, and they
would be touching, her lips on Eowyn's, just like in the dreams that haunted
her night after night. Elanor closed her eyes, imagining what that would feel
like, relishing the few seconds that were left before Eowyn took her face away. 
And then, suddenly, she no longer had to imagine -- because Eowyn was kissing
her.

  It was a brief kiss, lasting only an instant, but it was long enough for
Elanor to feel something she had never felt before rising inside her. "I
could stay like this forever," she thought, just as Eowyn pulled away.

  "Again, it seems I must apologize," murmured Eowyn, gazing into
Elanor's startled brown eyes. Was it her imagination, or did she see
something besides shock there? Could it possibly be... desire? "No," Eowyn
thought, "Impossible. Hobbits do not -- " But before she could finish her
thought, Elanor was upon her again, kissing her lips, gasping with excitement as
she did so.

  "Oh... milady..." Elanor moaned as Eowyn's hands moved down her body,
descending from soft cheek to shoulders to breasts, feeling the nipples harden
underneath her clothing.

  "Eowyn." she whispered, "Anyone I make love to has the right to call
me Eowyn."

  "Make love?" Now it was Elanor's turn to pull away. "Oh,
milady -- Eowyn, I mean, I couldn't. I wouldn't know... what to do. You see,
I -- "

  "You've never done it before. Not with anyone?"

  "Well, not with a lass -- I mean, a lady, no, madam."

  "With a boy, though?" Elanor thought back to hurried trysts in fields
and haystacks, with clumsy lads who had spent themselves and left her
unsatisfied.

  "Yes, milady," she said, blushing. "But I wouldn't exactly call it
making love, more like -- "

  "Oh, I understand. I remember those years. Well," she said, moving a
little closer and dropping her voice, "would you like to try?" Elanor's
mouth went dry as she tried to form her reply.

  "More... more than anything. How do we begin?" Eowyn laughed at this.

  "Let's start by finding someplace a bit more private, eh?"

  The first thing Elanor noticed about Eowyn's bedroom was the massive bed
in the middle, covered with a warm red brocade cover. She had the urge to run
over and jump on it, but restrained herself, thinking it would hardly be seemly. 
She felt Eowyn's hands on her shoulders, guiding her, and when she turned to
look at the lady, her mouth was on hers again, the velvet-soft tongue exploring
Elanor's mouth and leaving her weak with longing. As they moved toward the
bed, Elanor felt Eowyn's hands leave her shoulders and travel up and down her
body, skillfully unfastening her clothing as they went. By the time Eowyn laid
her down across the large bed, everything Elanor had been wearing was strewn
across the floor, and she lay wriggling naked in the sheets, hungry for
Eowyn's touch. Eowyn did not disappoint her. As they kissed, her hands
strayed lower and lower, lingering on the hobbit's full breasts, then brushing
lightly against her stomach, making Elanor gasp with pleasure. When Eowyn
ceased kissing her, Elanor wondered if she had done something wrong, then
realized what the lady was doing with her mouth. She moaned as Eowyn's tongue
circled her hardening nipples, as it traced a line farther and father down, past
her belly button, all the way to -- Elanor sat up straight. This was wrong, what
Eowyn's lips and hands and tongue were doing to her, how they were making her
feel...

  "Elanor? What is it? Did I hurt you?"

  "No... no, milady, I can't. I'm sorry, but it's wrong." Eowyn had
dealt with reluctant female lovers before, however, and knew exactly what to
say.

  "Wrong? Elanor, pleasure is never wrong. Nothing that makes you feel
this good..." She softly kissed Elanor's neck. "...can be wrong. And
doesn't this make you feel good? You don't want me to stop, do you?"

  "N... no... milady..."

  "So relax. Feel what I'm doing to you, because when I'm done,
you're going to do it to me. All right?" At this, she placed her hand
between Elanor's legs and began moving her fingers in soft circles around the
clit, around and around, until she felt Elanor's body relax and her breath
begin to come in gasps. Eowyn knew by this that the hobbit was past the point
of any resistance, so she once again removed her mouth from Elanor's and began
her descent once more. When her tongue made its first contact with Elanor's
clit, the hobbit's small gasps of pleasure dissolved into one loud moan.

  "Oh... Eowyn..."

  "You don't want me to stop, do you?"

  "Oh, no... no..."

  As Eowyn's tongue moved faster and faster, harder and harder, Elanor's
back arched, and her hips began moving up and down in rhythm with Eowyn's
touch. One hand clutched at the satin sheets she lay on, the other at the back
of Eowyn's head, pushing it down harder and harder.

  "Oh Gods... yes, yes!" she moaned. And with one last movement of
Eowyn's tongue, release was upon her. Elanor was lost to the world,
forgetting everything but the sensations that were pulsing over her, finally
slowing and then stopping altogether. Then Eowyn was at her side again, kissing
her lips and stroking her hand lazily over Elanor's chest.

  "You liked that?"

  "How can you even ask?" Elanor murmured, curling up against Eowyn's
side. "But I must say, milady" -- this with a wicked grin -- "I thought it
was customary for both parties to be undressed." Indeed, Eowyn had not
removed a single article of clothing, and Elanor's naked body looked a little
silly next to the fine cloth of Eowyn's garments. Eowyn let out a short
laugh.

  "Indeed, I suppose I had forgotten about myself in my haste to satisfy
you, little hobbit. Well, why don't you remedy the situation?" Elanor's
trembling hands reached up for the fastenings of Eowyn's gown, clumsily
untying and unlacing, until Eowyn was as nude as Elanor. The hobbit was in awe. 
Never had she seen an unclothed woman, especially not one so pale, so smooth, so
perfect. After all their exertions, she was not even flushed; not a hair was
out of place. Eowyn noticed Elanor staring and laughed again.

  "Like what you see? Believe me, I'd rather look like you. Beauty comes
at a price, you know. Well? Don't just sit there staring. It's my
turn." Feeling now like something of the expert, Elanor drew Eowyn down onto
the bed. Her hands roamed freely over the white skin, pinching and stroking,
determined to make Eowyn lose control, just as she had. Once she put her mouth
to use as well, Elanor's goal seemed near. She remembered the ways Eowyn had
used her tongue on her clit, varying motion, speed, and strength, and attempted
to copy what she had felt. It seemed to be working -- Eowyn strained upwards,
gasping and pushing against Elanor's mouth. In what seemed to Elanor like no
time at all, Eowyn too reached her climax, moaning loudly as she did so. Her
hands, which had been clutching Elanor's hair, released their grasp, and her
shuddering body began to relax into the sheets. Now it was Elanor's turn to
find her way back to her lover's mouth and give her a deep kiss. She could
hardly help grinning as she did so. All the things she had always been told
were so wrong -- who would have known that they felt this good?

  "Who could have imagined, eh, milady?" she said, cuddling up to
Eowyn's side once more. "That is to say, I'm a hobbit, you're a fine
lady..."

  "It's always good to have someone who knows what to do as your first
lover," Eowyn explained. "Saves a lot of time and trouble learning if you
get it right the first time."

  "Milady? If I might take the liberty of asking? Who --"

  "Who was mine? Why, Arwen, of course."


  In the corridor, Queen Arwen Undomiel heard the unmistakable sounds of
pleasure coming from Eowyn's room, and smiled. "Eowyn seems to be
recovering nicely," she thought. "And Elanor has finally found her
adventure."