Author's Note:

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Arwen

Arwen sat on her lofty chair with her legs crossed. Her white dress fell in waves and gracefully clung to her figure. Her hair was clipped back from her face, bound in ribbons and ivory clasps. She gave one of her brothers a baleful look before turning her eyes to her brother.

Elrohir and Elladan both sat across from her, grim-faced but Arwen knew better. She read the relaxed signs of mirth in their forms.

"A man, sister?" Elrohir asked.

"Surprising, isn't it, brother?" Elladan said conversationally. "And this is the same sister who claimed not to love any man."

Arwen frowned dangerously at them. She kept her posture relaxed; she was a lady, after all. Elrohir stretched.

"Of course, that Elf who pined after her will be disappointed grievously… what was his name again?"

"It doesn't matter," Elladan answered graciously. He inspected his nails. "He will remain nameless, poor Elf. Our little sister's eyes are elsewhere."

Arwen pursed her lips.

"Well," Elrohir's eyes now danced in merriment. "As long as what she is looking at is modest… well, before the wedding, at least."

Her amour of courtly ladyship ripped away. A lady knew how to act in certain circumstances. In the current matter, she was a lady second and a sister first. Arwen sprang from her seat and grabbed her cushion. With a frightening accuracy, she threw it at one brother before picking another cushion. Her brothers scattered with loud laughter.

"Go away! Leave me be!"