Chapter Summary: Silmarien arrives in the City of Swans, and her transformation has just begun...

Shout outs:

Terreis – I hope Mercury Gray told you that Haldir belongs to me... if not, we're going to have a serious problem!

Mercury Gray – Yes, you told me I could do it. For some reason, I didn't believe you. But I'm so glad it has your blessing!

Mariette – Yes, I took Silmarien's name from the Silmarillion. I believe she was the first recorded Numenorian queen in Middle Earth's history. Glad you like it.

Roisin Dubh – Yes, Barahir is more of a gentleman. I couldn't really figure out why I had him be such a jerk before, other than it gave Aerwyn a chance to open a can of whup-ass. But, it's over. On to the new!

Electric Fire – Barahir, perfect for Mari, you say? I could think of a better man for Silmarien...but that's another story...

Justso – And you don't even have the guts to leave me your email, so I can bother you about how you got her age? Because I sure couldn't figure her age!

Bubblebubblegumgum – You are so sad and pathetic, you little hypocrite. I laugh at your spelling, I laugh at the fact that you have written a story with non-canon characters in it. I laugh at the fact that you think you can change anything I do with an insulting and degrading review. You make me laugh. Now go away or I shall taunt you a second time.

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Silmarien looked about her, taking in her new apartments. It had been a long journey to Dol Amroth, and she had just arrived, having been escorted by her brother Boromir. The servant who she supposed had been ordered to care for her during her stay drew back the filmy curtain that closed off the room from the balcony during the summer.

"I do believe you'll like it here, madam," the elderly woman was saying as Silmarien went to stand on the balcony. "This was Princess Finduilas' room, when she was young."

Silmarien turned to the servant - whose name was Riona - suddenly amazed. "You knew Lady Finduilas?" she whispered in awe.

The servant vigorously nodded. Before Silmarien could attack the poor woman with questions, Boromir strode into the chambers to bid her farewell. Silmarien immediately rushed toward him and threw herself into his arms, embracing him tightly as if it would keep him there forever.

"I shall miss you greatly, Boromir," she said, her voice muffling into his broad chest. She could feel the chuckle rumbling in his breast as he held her close.

"Fear not, Silmarien. I won't let you stay here forever. You're much too fun to go without for more than a single summer," he murmured into her hair with a smile. "I have brought a gift with me from Gondor, so that you would not be lonely."

Whistling twice, Boromir pulled away from his little sister in time for her to receive a bouncing mass of fur into her arms. It yelped in clipped barks that were high pitched and playful as it reached its tawny paws up to her waist in greeting.

"Sit!" Boromir commanded authoritatively. Instantly, the dog obeyed, its sparkling brown eyes looking at Boromir for more directions.

"Oh, Boromir, he's so handsome!" Silmarien cried, thrilled at her new pet. It seemed very young, and quite ready to please through obedience. The pup's scruffy fur was a mix of browns, both light and dark, and varying shades of black. With long, gangly legs and paws he would need to grow into, he looked bumbling and awkward, but to Silmarien, he was the most beautiful thing she had ever been given yet.

"He's not a year old yet, and no one's named him. What say you to that, lady sister?" Boromir smiled, the corners of his merry eyes crinkling as he laughed at her glee.

"What say I? I say 'where did he come from?'" Mari asked, holding her hand out for the cur to sniff, and get used to her scent.

"One of Faramir's men breeds hunting dogs. This was the youngest of his hounds, and they didn't need him as much in Ithilien. Faramir wanted me to give him to you. From both of us, Mari, an early happy birthday."

Silmarien laughed delightedly. Her brothers loved her very much, that they would conspire together to give her a gift. And so early, too! Her birthday wasn't until September!

"I shall name you Ranger," she whispered to the animal, who was busily bathing her hand in wet kisses, "for you are dark, and have long shanks!"

The dog barked and wagged his tail at his new name, batting her hand playfully with his paw. Boromir threw his head back and laughed. "What a choice in names, sister! I shall have to tell Faramir of it. He will laugh," he smirked.

"Let him laugh, for he should know that I would miss him as well!" she cried out. "I name him after my brother also, for I think he shall be a good companion – loveable and protective."

"A wise choice you made, then. And a choice that I must leave you with," Boromir said, pressing his lips to her forehead. "Father shall send either Faramir or I to fetch you in a few months. I hope you shall have surprises for us by then."

Seeing her brother's roguish wink, Silmarien drew up to her full height. "I will be a lady," she vowed, "even if it kills me."

"Let us hope it does not come to that."

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Over the next few days, Silmarien was introduced to the finer manners her cousins had been taught. Imrahil had instructed his niece's given servant, Riona, to teach Silmarien the art of being a lady. Lothiriel was kind and took lessons with her cousin, though she knew them by heart already.

The third day she had made Dol Amroth her home, Silmarien was taught how to walk tall and straight by balancing a book upon her head. Determined to accomplish her task, the daughter of Denethor set her mind to it and achieved her goal quickly. The next day, a new task was set before her.

"A fashion of the Swan City, is it?" Silmarien asked her cousin for the third time as she glared suspiciously at the dress. There were too many laces on it for her liking, and the cut looked especially form fitting in places she did not admire.

Lothiriel remembered the time she was laced up in her first corset. It wasn't very difficult, considering her figure was slender, and she fit into it without much ado. Her cousin however, had been subject to fattening foods in Gondor, and was encouraged to eat until her hunger was quite satiated. To put it delicately, Silmarien was a bit plumper than Lothiriel.

Putting on the dress was a bit of a task. Lothiriel tried to help by telling her cousin what she did everyday to put it on.

"Try sucking in your breath, Mari...good! Now hold it while Riona laces you up," the princess encouraged.

"Is this meant to kill me?!" Silmarien gasped as the fabric became tighter. Riona finally tied the strings and stepped away. "Can I breathe now?"

Blowing out her breath, Silmarien winced. "I hope I don't rip a seam," she muttered. Ranger had been watching with perked ears and a tilted head, curious as to why his lady was acting so strangely.

Over the course of the next weeks, Silmarien ate less, trying to lose weight so she could actually fit into the dresses her uncle had ordered to be made for her. Mari was determined to become a lady – she had to live up to her mother's legacy and prove to everyone that she could be as queenly as Finduilas the Fair.

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What do you guys think? Will the "weight-loss program" be a problem for Silmarien? Review!