Chapter Summary: Silmarien goes home and shares some moments with Denethor before her birthday feast, where she will be presented as a lady of the court, a woman.

Author Notes: Well here it is, the last chapter of What It Takes to Be a Lady. I hope that my faithful readers enjoyed it immensely. The next tale in Silmarien's life that I will write about will be titled "War of Desires". Feel free to let you imagination run wild on that one!

Shout Outs:

Lady Glory – Glad you enjoyed it!

Mercury Gray – You and your silly plays.

Roisin Dubh – The dense fog was the product of my speaking with Mercury Gray on another topic. I liked it, so I used it here, as well and simply embellished it. And when Boromir says, "my sister" he was speaking of himself. He was planning to go alone, and didn't want to enlist his brother's help unless it was offered. Don't over think things, it's not good for you.

Jousting Elf with a Sabre – Thank you for your encouragement!

Terreis – Glorfindel shall not be forgotten, don't worry. And Sarka was executed along with the other crew member who didn't escape with the others when they kidnapped Lothiriel. I just didn't think I should write about it because I have a tendancy to be pretty detailed and I have a bloodophobic reader.

Silmarien stood in the stone passageway, waiting for her father to escort her into the feasting hall. It had been a month since she had returned to her city, and preparations had swiftly been made for the celebration of the anniversary of her birth. She had spent much of the time for gown fittings, choosing the hues of silk and velvet she would wear and astounding her maids by exhibiting great patience and quiet. When she wasn't being fitted, she sat in the garden and played the lyre, much to the courtiers' great delight and the amusement of her brothers.

"I see your hands have been put to good use," Boromir would often joke when he found her so. "At last, you are sitting still!"

"Laugh all you like, Boromir," Silmarien would say in reply. "Though I am quiet and manageable as a lady should be, I could suddenly disobey and pounce upon you like a lioness. Forget not my tale that I brought home."

It was well known in the city, Silmarien's adventure with the Corsairs. Every gossip-loving woman would chatter about it over the washing of laundry or between purchases in the market. Young girls were exhorted to grow up and be stout-hearted like the Lady Silmarien, and boys began to invite playmates of the other sex to join them as they played Knights and Pirates. But the true story had been stretched, hailing Silmarien as a greater fighter than she truly was. It was said that she did not escape the ship with an escort, but stayed to fight alongside her cousin Barahir, and slew a great amount of enemies.

The Steward, his family and a few of the most trusted courtiers knew the truth however. They had heard the tale from Silmarien's own lips, and took her at her word. Denethor was proud of his daughter, and yet embraced her closely when he laid eyes upon her when she returned. She was too much of his treasure for him to be foolish with.

Silmarien sighed and leaned against the stone wall, careful to stand in such a way as to not wrinkle her gown. Since she had returned home, she had put away the fashion of Dol Amroth, with all their laces and corsets. She had also gained a few pounds, having rediscovered her love for Gondorian cuisine. The silvery gown she wore now was comfortable and fashionable at the same time – Mari's most favorite combination.

"Well, I suppose I can't call you my little one anymore," Denethor smiled, reaching for her hands to clasp. "You have quite grown up, my Mari."

"I'll always be your little one, Father," she smiled. "But I don't think I'll allow anyone else to say it."

The Steward laughed with his daughter as he embraced her close, and then he sighed. "You went to your mother's city a mere girl, and returned as a woman. You are truly a lady."

Silmarien became silent and thoughtful for a time. "I think that I have always been so, Father. I have come from a long line of queenly women. It merely slept within me, alongside my courage, waiting for the right time to rise. It had to be shaken to wakefulness for just the right purpose."

"What meanest thou, daughter?" Denethor ask, delighting that she had learned her strength and was mature enough to recognise it.

"I mean that it does not take silvery gowns and golden circlets to make a true lady. A lady is gentle and kind and strong and compassionate. Even a woman who lives on the first circle of the city might be a lady. And at times, a woman of the court is given the title she does not deserve. But I am thankful that I am one, for then I shall be able to continue in Mother's footsteps, take up her mantle where she left it. And then, when I grow old, I shall put the mantle over my own daughter's shoulders one day."

"Blessed be my daughter, for she is a queen though she bear not the title," Denethor praised. "Now I can present you to court with overflowing pride. You have earned your right, and will keep it to the end of your days."

With that, they entered the feasting hall together, and celebrated the coming of age of the daughter of Finduilas the Fair, who, though she was not able to teach her daughter the grace and nobility she learned, oversaw the tutelage and smiled from Manwe's Halls.

The End