I own nothing.
Éowyn knew few tales of the Elves and the Elder Days. She knew the tales and the songs of her own people, knew them and marked them well as any proud daughter of the House of Eorl. There was one tale, though, that as a young woman in Meduseld caught her attention and held it fast.
In lands now lost beneath the surface of the sea, there was a kingdom of Elves ruled over by a wise king. His nearest kinswoman was tall and fair-haired, well-loved by her people. But her beauty had drawn attention that she did not want.
The king's most trusted advisor lusted after the princess. He cast dark glances her way and haunted her steps. His attentions frustrated and frightened her, as did the undue influence he had over the king. The princess spent her days refusing to bow to fear, and yet fearing the day when the advisor would grow so full of lust that he would force her, that he would violate her and that she would either be shamed before her people, or forced to wed him.
It was a very familiar tale, and when Éowyn thought of it she saw her own life playing out before her eyes. But she doubted that any hero of old would come for her to save her from Gríma's lust, so she kept her knives, and kept watch over the shadows gathering around her and her kin.