"Sweetheart? Could you tidy your room, please? It's getting so that I can't see the floor in there."

Elenhe groaned. "Mother! I was going out to play with Rash and Mari. Can I do it tomorrow?"

Eowyn smiled. She was glad to see that her daughter was finally forging friendships- for nine years, the girl had been solitary as an oyster- but that didn't mean she was going to relax her rules. "Not 'til your room is tidy. If you don't comply, Ele, I shall have to tell your father..."

At her mention of him, Faramir poked his head around the door of Eowyn's sitting-room. "Did someone mention me?" He came into the room, smiling as Ele came running up. He swung her up into the air and around, just as he had done since she could walk. But the 10- year-old was not as light as she had once been... "Ooof, Sweetbriar," he said, using his personal nickname for his daughter, as he hefted her onto his hip, "You're growing into a regular swordmaiden, just like your mother!"

She pouted prettily at him, as she always did when he said this, and her father smiled, his brown eyes twinkling.

"So," he continued, "What was the little domestic dispute I interrupted, Eowyn?" he asked is wife, shifting Ele into a more comfortable position.

The Lady of Ithilien sighed. "The usual. It looks like a Fell Beast has been on the rampage in her room. Possibly a mountain troll."

Ele giggled at her mother's despairing face, but Faramir set his daughter back on her own two feet. Crouching down, he laid his hands on her shoulders, looking sternly into the pale-blue eyes blinking innocently up at him from underneath the girl's mass of ash-blonde hair. "Now, Ele, you know our rules. Number one: respect us and others, as, in turn, we respect you. Two: play can be as vigorous as you like, as long as you don't come home with your petticoats in tatters, and Three: keep your room in order, or you will be confined to it."

The girl sighed theatrically, folding her arms. Eowyn winced, fearing that the girl's legendary stubbornness was about to come into play. She was surprised, therefore, when Ele's frown slowly eased into a long-suffering expression of penitence, and the girl nodded her head.

"There's my good girl," said Faramir softly, stroking her hair as his stern frown also relaxed into a smile.

"Off you go then, sweetheart," said Eowyn as the girl turned to leave, "if you're quick, you'll have it done in half an hour. Then you can go and find Rash and Mari."

Ele ran off to her room, and Eowyn turned to her husband in relief. "I thought she was going to go over the top again. Thank the Horselords she didn't- I'm just too tired to cope with that today."

Faramir's hand, that had been stroking a stray wisp of hair behind his wife's ear, slid down to rest against Eowyn's midriff.

"Is it...?" he half-asked.

But Eowyn merely smiled. "Of course not. It's much too early for that! I just haven't been sleeping well lately, that's all."

"Have you told Ele yet?" he asked, as he gently put his arms around her.

"No..." she murmured softly. She drew back for a moment, and he could see the sudden pain in her eyes. "I just want to wait until...until we're more sure that this one will go alright. You know our first...my little boy..." A solitary tear slid down one cheek. "Faramir, I didn't even hold him alive...our little boy..." Eowyn couldn't hold it in any longer, and the tears fell freely now as her husband held her close, stroking her hair.

...He remembered only too well the pain of that first miscarriage. First there had been the joy- only two months married, and the midwife had announced that his wife was with child! But then came the tiredness, the aches and pains, and Eowyn's violent mood-swings. There was still a dent in her door from where he had closed it just before a heavy, wooden book-end had hit him! Then, finally, came the sorrow, when, just three months before she was due to have the child, Eowyn had felt his heartbeat stop inside her, and had given birth to a cold, lifeless little boy. They had felt as though the very ground they trod had been snatched from beneath their feet.

She had sworn she would never carry another child, but then, in the cold of Midwinter, ten months after the tragedy, Eowyn had felt a tiny, new life in her womb. Afraid of what might be, she and Faramir had waited as it grew, and then, in the tail of the Summer, Elenhe Loreli had been born. The whole city rejoiced, and the happy couple were hard put to find more radiant faces than theirs. Little Ele had been their new hope. But, ten years on, Eowyn feared that she could never have another child. Now, their prayers were answered...

"I agree," said Faramir decisively, when her tears had subsided. Holding her at arms' length, he gave her a swift kiss, before helping her to her private chamber. "You need rest, my darling; you don't want to be bothered by me tonight. Now, have a nap, then will you come down to dinner tonight? Send your maid with a message if you feel too tired."

She smiled gratefully back at Faramir as he closed the door behind him.

"Owen?" Faramir called, to his friend, some three hours after the clash with Ele.

"Yes?" Owen came over to Faramir from a conversation he had been having with one of the House maids, a little confused by the man's expression. "What is it? You look worried."

Faramir sighed. "I confess I am. Much as Ele hates tidying, she is a fast worker, and she should have been down here and out through the door two and a half hours ago...do you mind checking up on her? Just for a minute. I must admit, I am not at all sure that she hasn't inadvertently hit her head on something. You know what she's like!" Owen laughed. He certainly did know what the little girl was capable of! "But don't tell Eowyn," he added swiftly. "She's been overworked lately, and I don't want her to worry."

"Certainly, sir. Happy to oblige." Faramir's right-hand man was fond of his master's daughter, active and unusual as she was. Taking the stairs two at a time, he bounded up to the top of the House, knocking twice on Ele's door. When he received no answer, he slowly pushed the door open. The room was, indeed, neat as a pin, but clearly uninhabited. Further inspection revealed a note on the girl's desk. It read:

Mother and Father,
Dont wory, I havent been kinaped. I didnt want to waste time, so I left by the tree. Il be playing with Rash and Mari.

Love from Ele X X X

Owen smiled. Ele never could get the hang of apostrophes, and couldn't see the point of double letters, when the word could just as easily be expressed with a single one. She had recently started using the tree outside her bedroom window as an alternative route outside, and Faramir wasn't discouraging it. And the girl always did have a sense of humour, he reminded himself as he left the room, carefully closing the door behind him. "Hasn't been kidnapped!" he chuckled to himself, as he descended the stairs to relieve Faramir's worries.

Ele giggled, hearing the outburst of Owen's laughter from her room as she lay beneath a tree, some way from the House, with her two friends.

"What is it?" asked Rash, propping himself up on an elbow. At twelve years old, Rashvar was the eldest of the trio, his dark brown hair forever fighting to escape its tie, his long, quick fingers the first into the apple barrel or Cook's biscuit jar.

"Yes, stop it, Ele, secret giggles are not allowed in the Fellowship." That was Mari, the ostler's daughter, rosy-cheeked and cheerful, if a little dumpy. The girl was always ready to neutralise any dispute that sprang up between her two friends, who were both of them volatile as volcanoes. A couple of months older than Ele, Mari was the most responsible of the 'Fellowship', and the girl's calming influence was something that Eowyn for one was extremely grateful for.

Ele sat up, picking grass from her hair. "It's Owen," she laughed, "I'd recognise that sound anywhere. He's just found the note I left before I came out here."

"Horselords, it's taken him that long?" exclaimed Rash. He had picked up the expression from Ele, who often heard her mother using it.

"Father doesn't quite understand me yet, I fear," answered Ele sorrowfully, a long-suffering expression on her face. Then she looked up. "Where's Mari gone?" she exclaimed, looking around. Rash sat up in surprise; their friend had indeed disappeared. Then they heard the half-stifled giggle issuing from behind the rhododendrons. Both of them looked at each other, put a finger to their lips, and crept around opposite sides of the bush. Barrelling into their friend from opposite directions, they knocked her to the ground, and all three were caught up in an impromptu wrestling match.

Ele moaned as a strong hand gripped the back of her dress, lifting her firmly out of the melee. "Owen! I wasn't doing anything wrong..."

The other two scrambled to their feet, brushing themselves down, and Ele looked around, curiously, as she was set on her feet. Her jaw dropped. "Father!" she exclaimed, amazed. "But you never come to find me..." She subsided into silence as Faramir raised his eyebrows with an amused grin.

"I needed some fresh air," he said, smiling down at her, "And I hate to say this, Ele, but I really don't spend as much time with you as I should. Come on in, it's dinnertime."

Ele grimaced at her friends, but waved goodbye, returning to her father's side.

"'bye, Ele!" called Rash, smiling after the girl. "See you tomorrow!"

As father and daughter rounded the corner to the back door of the House, Faramir said, "Thankyou for your note. It meant a lot to your mother, you know. And I'm glad to see that you're becoming more responsible as you grow older."

Two years on, Ele was anything but responsible. Faramir's voice echoed down the corridor from where he had managed to corner his daughter- in her room.

"And just what did you think you were doing, Elenhe Loreli? "

He paused for breath, amazed at the girl's audacity. She, with the help of Rash- Mari had wanted no part in it – had managed to bring the entire city to a standstill. They had poured vegetable oil over the main gates, so that it made the outside road completely impassable, and filled the mechanism that opened them with honey.

In the mess outside the gates, a heggler's cart had collided with a baker's wagon, so now most of the angry merchants and traders stranded outside the city were covered in eggs and flour. Faramir, whilst looking for someone to blame for the catastrophe, had found Rash and Ele helpless with laughter up on the walltops, above the gates.

"What in Gondor did you think you were doing???" He bit his lip to keep from laughing- despite the fact that Faramir was furious over the wasted trade, it had been hilarious to see those merchants slipping all over the place, covered from head to toe in various foodstuffs! Ele, however, just stared stonily back at him. "You, young lady," continued her father, "are beginning to take these pranks too far. It's all very well locking Cook in the larder"- that had been one of Ele's previous plots- "but you can't destroy the workings of the whole city. And LOOK AT ME WHEN I'M TALKING TO YOU!"

Despairing of ever getting through to the twelve-year old, he took her arm, and hauled her out into the corridor.

"You're staying in our room until I can get Owen to fix some boards over your window. You are confined to your room, Elenhe, and I don't want you slipping off down the tree. Count yourself lucky I'm not having it cut down. And you are banned from seeing that boy until both you and he have proved that you aren't a hazard to yourselves and others!" Calming down a little, he looked Ele in the eye. "I don't want your brother growing up with that kind of behaviour as an example.

Ele exclaimed in disbelief. "Father! He's only one year old!"

"Exactly. I don't want him to grow old enogh to make mischief with your example pushing him on."