A/N: Everyone keeps wondering who Eldarion is going to end up with, considering I keep narrowing the choices! Well, you'll have to wait a bit longer! I am working on that story, but I don't know how long it will take to flesh it out. Let the suspense build for a while, eh?
Chapter 2
Morwen had been home from Minas Tirith for three days. Though she could have done without the tedious journey between cities, she had thoroughly enjoyed visiting Gondor. Well, except for that awful man.
By Gondorian standards, Edoras was still on the provincial side, and she loved the glamour and excitement afforded by a place such as Minas Tirith. There were more interesting shops, more things to do and she always enjoyed spending time with her relatives in that part of Middle-earth.
Perhaps one day she would move there, even marry a man from Gondor. With one notable exception, the men she had met there were far more sophisticated and appealing than those of the nobility in Edoras. True, she would not like being so far away from her family, but sometimes sacrifices had to be made. She was certain she would marry well, and they would be able to visit home often even if her husband was from Gondor.
Rising, she meandered toward her parents' chamber. She found her mother putting away clean clothes, and she sprawled on her stomach across their bed as she watched silently for a moment.
After several moments of observation, she announced, "I want my marriage to be like yours."
Her mother turned to eye her questioningly. "What, in particular, do you mean?"
"Oh, everything. I want us to laugh and tease each other like you and Papa do. I never want us to stop holding hands and kissing and being romantic. I want us never to argue or disagree. That sort of thing."
Lothiriel placed the last few shirts in a drawer, and then stepped over to sit down beside her daughter. "Those things do not just happen by themselves. Do you know why our marriage is like that?"
Morwen rolled over on her back to gaze thoughtfully at her mother, finally answering, "No, I suppose I do not."
"We hold hands and kiss and are still romantic because we love each other, today just as much as when we were married. And we make a point of letting the other person know that we still feel that way. We laugh and tease each other because we trust the other person not to do it mean-spiritedly, and we are certain of their love for us. We learned how to laugh and tease together before we ever married and it has simply continued on."
"All of the things you have mentioned as admiring do not come by chance. We choose for them to be that way, and put our effort into making them so. Our only thought is for the other person's happiness, and we are willing to sacrifice to accomplish it. We choose not to be selfish, whenever possible. If you would have a similar marriage, you and your husband would have to make that same commitment to each other. What you see does not come without a cost," Lothiriel told her.
Lothiriel paused there and considered the final point her daughter had made. At length, she added, "We do argue and disagree, but not often. And it does not last long because we do not wish it to. We look to compromise, we make an effort to work things out in a manner we both can live with. We agree on so much because we choose to agree. We choose to end arguments by giving in. We believe it is more important to give in than to insist on being right."
She paused a moment, then added softly, "Your father is a man used to coming out the victor in any conflict, and one would expect him to be the same in arguments. Perhaps he is in politics, but it is humbling to me to know that he loves me so much, he would rather yield to my wishes than make me unhappy. He would rather lose the argument than lose me. And because he loves me that much, I dare not trample on his feelings and treat them callously. Even when I win the argument, I try to make him feel as though he shares in my victory, for I have no desire to best him. I would sacrifice all things to keep him at my side, even my own happiness, because he is what gives me my greatest happiness. That would be lost if he was lost to me, and I could never recover from it."
Morwen considered what her mother had said, then commented, "You make it look so easy, yet it sounds so difficult."
Lothiriel rose and leaned over to press a kiss to her daughter's brow. "Not if you let your heart choose your actions, instead of your pride."
As Lothiriel exited the room, Morwen contemplated her words. Surely there was another man such as her father, with whom she could have a similar marriage. Unbidden, the image of Caranhir came to mind and she gave a smirk. She doubted very much he would ever be that kind of husband! He would likely be domineering and bossy, always insisting everything was done his way! Yet another reason to reject him!
She gave a frustrated moan; why was she even thinking about that terrible troll? She was free of him now, and would never see him again. She didn't care who he married, so long as it wasn't her! Rising with determination, she forced him from her thoughts and returned to her own room to finish a tunic she had been working on.
No matter what, it was good to be home.
xxxxx
The next evening, Morwen was pleased to be able to spend time with two of Elfwine's children. It was good to see them again after being away for over a month. She loved children, and her nieces and nephews were especially dear to her.
All eyes turned to take notice when Gamling put in appearance with a message delivered quietly to Eomer.
Eomer raised an eyebrow at the information Gamling relayed to him. "By all means, show him in."
The family was gathered in Eomer's study, relaxing together after supper. It had been a while since all of his children had been together, with the exception of Theodwyn. His sons and Arawine were sprawled over chairs, catching up on each other's activities of late, while the women were playing with the children.
A short knock announced Gamling's return, and a moment later he entered with another man. Morwen could not restrain a tiny gasp of amazement. It was Caranhir! What on earth was he doing here?
Eomer moved forward to greet him as the others all watched with interest. "I am Eomer King. Who might you be?"
"My lord! I am Caranhir of Lebennin. I thank you for receiving me." He snuck a peek at Morwen, who was flushed red and refusing to look in his direction.
"Indeed," Eomer responded mildly, "and what brings you to our door this day?"
"To be perfectly honest, my lord, I made the acquaintance of your lovely daughter, Morwen, not too long ago when she was visiting Gondor. I come now so that we might become better acquainted – in hopes I might find favor with her, and her family."
Eomer's eyebrow arched at this very straightforward declaration, and he glanced toward Morwen, who did not seem all that pleased by this turn of events. Still, there was no need for concern just yet. He knew many young men admired his daughter, and he expected he would be faced with numerous suitors in the not-too-distant future.
Offering an enigmatic smile, Eomer suggested, "Perhaps we should begin by introducing you to the rest of the family." With a wave of his hand, he gestured to Lothiriel. "My wife, Queen Lothiriel."
After Caranhir had acknowledged her, Eomer, eyes twinkling, proceeded to the four other males in the room. "And these are my sons, Elfwine, heir of the Riddermark, Theomund and Theodred – Morwen's brothers – and Arawine, Morwen's nephew."
As if on cue, the four rose from their chairs simultaneously, and only when they had did Caranhir notice that he was standing in their midst, surrounded on all sides. He was a large, solid man, but Morwen's brothers and nephew were daunting all the same, especially in a group. Caranhir didn't miss the veiled message; Morwen's unhappiness would mean their displeasure with whomever caused it.
Flashing a jauntier grin than he felt, he nodded to the four. "An honor, gentlemen. I look forward to getting to know you."
A small smirk played at Eomer's mouth as he continued with introductions to Dariel and the children.
Caranhir's genial attitude soon had him ensconced in easy conversation with the men in the room, and Lothiriel observed the proceedings with interest. It was clear that Morwen was unhappy with this man's presence, and she pointedly ignored him. Dariel caught Lothiriel's eye and gave her a knowing smile. Obviously, they needed to speak in private – Dariel knew something about this.
It was evident that the men were getting along famously, and Caranhir seemed to have won their approval in short order. Though he had said Morwen was the reason for his visit, he paid her no mind, and spent the rest of the evening talking with her family.
Upon learning that Caranhir served as a Ranger in Ithilien, patrolling the Harad border, the family understood Morwen's apparent distaste for him. She was not inclined toward soldiers of any kind, not even entirely approving of the military activities of her father and brother. She was a true lady of the court, and had demonstrated a decided propensity for genteel noblemen. Consequently, she was extremely popular among the sons of the upper class of Edoras. As yet, she had developed no keen interest in any man in particular, but they were earnest in their efforts to attract her attention. She was prim and proper, and the idea that she would ever consider this rough Ranger was almost laughable. But clearly he was determined, and did not lack for confidence. It would be interesting to see how well he fared against her fixed notions of acceptability.
xxxxx
It wasn't until the next day that Lothiriel had an opportunity to seek out Dariel. When she did, Dariel handed her a letter to read. Opening it, Lothiriel discovered it was from Luthiel, and her daughter-in-law explained, "Luthiel sent it to me with Morwen when she returned home. She thought I might be interested in knowing what had taken place on this visit."
Quickly reading through the contents, Lothiriel raised an eyebrow in amusement. When she got to the part about the victory kiss at the tournament, she could not hold back a laugh, and Dariel chuckled as well, guessing what part she was reading.
After the queen had folded the letter and returned it, Dariel observed, "He seems quite determined to catch her eye, though I am not at all certain his efforts are not doomed to failure."
Lothiriel sat pensively a moment, then replied, "I am not so sure of that. Yesterday, out of the blue, Morwen started talking about the sort of marriage she wanted to have one day. At the time, I did not think much about her sudden interest in the topic, but now I am inclined to think there is more going on in her thoughts than she has yet revealed, or perhaps even realizes."
"Well, he is here now. It will be interesting to see how he fares. It is clear that the family likes him. Indeed, he is quite agreeable, and she could do much worse."
"Even so, that will not entirely excuse him from being a soldier!" Lothiriel said, laughing. "She is rather adamant on that point. He has his work cut out for him. Still, as you say, it is best not to have the male family members suspicious of you!"
The two women chuckled together before turning their conversation to other matters.
xxxxx
Over the next few days, Caranhir divided his time between pursuing Morwen relentlessly and befriending her family. It had quickly become apparent to Morwen that he was not going to be easily dismissed, and it seemed as if he turned up every time she stepped foot outside of Meduseld. He followed her about town, speaking flattering words of admiration and making every attempt to garner her favor, but she maintained a cold and aloof demeanor whenever he was around.
Finally exasperated with his persistence, Morwen turned on him one day.
"Go away!" Morwen exclaimed in annoyance. "Quit following me, quit speaking to me, leave me completely alone!"
Caranhir grinned in amusement. "My lady! You wound me! Why would you wish me gone? What is there not to like about me?"
Morwen made an uncharacteristic growling sound in the back of her throat. "There are trolls who are more appealing than you! And they have better manners! Why is it so difficult for you to grasp that I DO NOT LIKE YOU!"
With a chuckle, Caranhir leaned toward her and said softly, "You just need to get to know me better! Then you will warm up to me, I am certain!"
Throwing up her hands in frustration, Morwen turned on her heel and stalked away from him, which would have been far more impressive if he had not merely fallen into step a short distance behind her.
After that, Morwen resorted to moving around town with one or more friends, to act as a shield against him. Her friends, who had much the same views as she did on such things, treated him with equal disdain, but he was steadfastly oblivious to their slights.
His relationship with her family, however, was going quite well. He had shown a great interest in Theomund's metalwork business, and had visited the shop to see his wares.
Elfwine had invited him to spar with him, and the two had gone at it enthusiastically. Caranhir had commented, only moments into the workout, "I confess, Elfwine, this is quite an unexpected challenge."
Elfwine eyed him questioningly, and he explained, "It is different fighting a man who is left-handed. His movements differ and his tactics are not quite so predictable. It is good to have this practice with you and keep my skills sharpened."
Whatever Elfwine had expected him to say, he was impressed with the man's ready acceptance of his disability. Not everyone was able to get past it and treat him as an equal. Caranhir seemed truly focused on the exercise rather than any limitations of his opponent.
Both Theodred and Arawine had quickly pressed him to teach them some of his Ranger skills, and Caranhir had readily assented, showing no disinclination to devote considerable amounts of his time to the two young men.
While Caranhir had not presumed to seek lodging with the family, to Morwen's abundant annoyance, her family persisted in inviting him to share meals with them. After several days of this, she took to spending more time dining with her friends, whenever possible, in order to avoid him at such gatherings. Still, she did not want to stay away entirely, not completely trusting him alone with them, and preferring to know exactly what he was up to when he was with them. To her great chagrin, he had effortlessly ingratiated himself to her family.
Unbeknownst to Morwen, her family had largely reached the conclusion that Caranhir was a very good thing in her life. As a child, she had been excruciatingly shy, and it had taken long years of their care and concern to help her be able to function in social situations. Unfortunately, the side effect of that shyness was her very rigid focus on protocol. Something about doing things in a very proscribed manner gave her comfort, and made it easier for her to act without freezing up. She could be relaxed when alone with her family, but in public she was a reserved, proper little ice maiden.
The family hoped that Caranhir's unbridled ebullience would help Morwen be more comfortable and informal. It was clear, however, that she intended to resist his every attempt to woo her. She turned a cold shoulder to conversation, she refused to look directly at him, often pretending to be unaware of his very existence, and she adamantly would not tolerate his advances. It was soon evident this battle of wills would go to whichever endured the longest.
And it was not only her family who showed great approbation for the man. Gamling and Eothain both seemed approving of him, and it was not but a few days after his arrival before he was being greeted in the street by townspeople he had befriended. Why was she the only one who could see how hideous he truly was? Were they all willfully blind? True, he was agreeable enough, but that alone should not have been sufficient to endear him to so many. Was he telling them lies in order to win their regard? Whatever it was, it was most frustrating. Were it not for her friends, she would likely have gone mad by now.
xxxxx
Caranhir had been at Edoras for nearly a fortnight when Morwen felt pushed to her limit. The conversation over dinner, which thankfully Caranhir had not been invited to for a change, still seemed to revolve around him and the high esteem in which her family all held him. They seemed heedless of her feelings and opinion of the man.
Morwen angrily threw down her napkin as she rose from the table, exclaiming, "I am beginning to think my family cares more for Lord Caranhir than they do for me!" With that she stormed from the room as all eyes watched her departure.
For a moment, there was silence, and then they eyed one another questioningly. Finally, Elfwine opted to speak first, observing, "Caranhir is a good man, and I believe he could be very good for Morwen. She has always been too wrapped up in the protocols of nobility, and it has made her stiff and tedious. Perhaps he could help soften her, so others may see the warm, loving woman that we know her to be. She does not even see that she has shown more fire and passion in her rejection of him than she has ever shown before in her life. I do not think she is so immune to him as she would have us believe. I think she merely does not like to lose control of the situation, and that is what has happened. He completely befuddles her and she does not know what to do about it. He does not follow her rigid rules of decorum."
"Even so," Lothiriel said quietly, "she is your sister, and she needs to know her family loves her. Do not let your perception of what you think she 'needs' blind you to that. He may be good for her, but it will not be easy for her to come to that realization."
Theomund shifted anxiously, then offered, "I think perhaps it is time I suggest to Caranhir that he change his tactics. He has her attention; now she needs to see what it feels like to lose his attention. I do not think she will relish his departure so much as she claims."
No one at the table was in disagreement, but Eomer cautioned his son, "Tread lightly, Theomund. We do not want to see her hurt." He knew the warning was unnecessary – Theomund was more sensitive to others' feelings than anyone – but he thought it best to be made plain.
After dinner, Theomund made good on his decision, seeking out Caranhir for a talk.
"You want me to give up on her?" Caranhir asked dubiously.
"No," Theomund assured him, "not give up. Just turn your attentions elsewhere for a while, and give her time to miss you. We think she cares for you, but will not allow herself to acknowledge it. Make her jealous with your interest in other women. Make her long for your presence, your words, your time, when they are suddenly no longer available to her. Make her want what she no longer thinks she has."
Caranhir considered this proposal, then shook his head uncertainly. "I do not know if I could play that game with her, Theomund. I truly do love her and I do not wish to be with anyone else."
"I know that," Theomund reassured him, "but my sister can be quite stubborn. She is convinced you are not the man she wants, that you do not appeal to her. When she sees that you do appeal to other women, and she is not having to fend off your advances, I believe she will come to realize that she very much loves and wants you."
"And what if she does not? Where does that leave me?" Caranhir pointed out.
"That leaves you knowing the truth. If she does not care that you are no longer interested in her, then you truly have no chance with her anyway. But if I am right about her feelings, then she should come to see that her heart looks upon you differently than does her mind. Unless she comes to understand that, you are wasting your time pursuing her."
"And your family knows about this? I will not be garroted by your brothers and father for my inconstancy?"
Theomund grinned. "Of course not!" Then pausing for effect, he added teasingly, "We are men of the sword!"
Caranhir glared at him. "Thank you for that questionable reassurance!" He sighed heavily. He was a straightforward man and did not like such games, but he could not deny that Morwen had proven extremely resistant to his efforts at charming her. Theomund's point was valid in that sense – at least he would know one way or the other if he could ever hope to win her affections.
xxxxx
It had been decided that the place to put this new plan into action was the feast given three days later. Even if Morwen was not interested in this man from the south, many other ladies were. His rugged good looks and unusual mahogany-colored hair cast quite an appealing image to the feminine eye, and they eagerly accepted his solicitations for a dance. Though not the best dancer, the ladies seemed uncaring of his clumsy feet and were far more interested in finding themselves in his arms during the course of the dance. They made it very clear to him they would welcome any repeat offers he might make toward them.
Further, though unfamiliar with most of the Rohirric dances, Caranhir was an enthusiastic pupil, and the ladies delighted in being his teacher. His missteps proved an excellent excuse for them to fall into his arms or clutch him tightly, even once he had improved and made fewer errors.
It had not taken long for Morwen to notice the shift in Caranhir's attentions. Initially, she was both surprised and relieved by it. Perhaps the man had finally comprehended her lack of regard. As the evening wore on, however, she began to be annoyed by his flagrant flirting with every woman in the room. He was so appallingly transparent! How could they not see how rough and unappealing he was? Many of the women were quite shameless in their efforts to catch his notice, and earn a place as his partner on the dance floor. It was truly rather nauseating to witness!
Even though the young men of the nobility seemed to share her distaste for this crude character, it did nothing to appease her irritation. Many a gentleman was more than willing to distract her with dancing, but she found she could not focus on the dance or her partner for any length of time. Must the man make such a spectacle of himself?
While everyone else seemed to enjoy the evening, Morwen found it ended on a sour note for her. Even when he was not chasing rabidly after her, he could manage to spoil a pleasant gathering. He was just so insufferable!
By the next day, it was clear that the wind had changed. No longer did Caranhir trail behind her in the street, declaring his endless devotion to her, or insisting on carrying her packages and spending time with her. Instead, everywhere she went she seemed to find him with a different woman on his arm. It almost looked as if he was determined to woo every woman in the entire town!
As it was the season for gatherings and dances, Morwen found herself facing continual repeats of that first evening. Women scandalously sought his favor, hanging on his every word and flattering him at every turn. And he appeared to thoroughly enjoy their attentions! So much for his professed everlasting affection for her! In retaliation, she made it a point to dance most every dance with a wide array of gentlemen, so as to make it clear that she did not miss his attentions to her in the slightest.
Over the next week her irritation increased with every glimpse she got of him. Why could he not just go back to Gondor and leave them all in peace? Then she would not have to observe this horrid man's intrigues! Everything about him grated on her nerves.
But if he knew of her annoyance, he gave no indication. Day after day, she was forced to endure his presence almost everywhere she went. To make matters worse, he was still friendly with her brothers and continued to be frequently present at meals. Only now the conversation often turned to whichever lady currently had his eye, and the royal family happily gave him further background on each one.
xxxxx
Two fortnights. It had been two fortnights already that Caranhir had been in Edoras. Would he never go home? Did he not have to return to the Ithilien Rangers? There was no evidence he intended to depart any time soon.
With his romantic escapades confronting her all over town, it was with some shock that she happened upon him one day without a companion. He had barely spoken to her of late, but today he made an exception. "Lady Morwen, it is good to see you. You look well."
He gave her a nod of his head, and despite her vexation with him, she could not stifle her natural tendency to politely acknowledge him. "Lord Caranhir. Thank you. I am well." Her response was stiff and cold, and she saw his eyes narrow at her tone.
Quietly he observed, "You seem out of sorts with me, my lady. Have I done something to displease you? I thought you would be appreciative of my giving in to your demands that I leave you alone."
She did not mean to say it, but it was out before she could stop herself. "Your undying love was shortlived, my lord!" Morwen claimed petulantly. Despite her effort to conceal it, there was no mistaking the note of hurt in her voice.
Caranhir regarded her curiously, giving a slow, sad smile as he asked quietly, "Was it wrong of me to look elsewhere when you would not have me?"
Morwen's breath caught in her throat. Of course he was right, and it was unfair of her to have expected him to pursue her forever without any encouragement. Even so, she could not suppress a pang of...disappointment? Softly, she replied with shame, "No, my lord. It was not wrong of you." She could not meet his eyes as she admitted the truth – she had driven him away, and she had no right to resent the loss of his affections.
To her surprise, his hand came up and the back of his fingers brushed against her cheek. "I could be persuaded to pursue no other but you," he murmured, his voice low and intimate. "I have looked elsewhere, and find no one appeals to me as you do."
Morwen gave a small gasp at his words, and her eyes rose to gaze into his in surprise. Could it be possible he still cared? As if in answer, he leaned in and his lips lightly touched hers. The contact was too brief and she hungered for more. Involuntarily, she moved toward him before he could pull back, and pressed her lips firmly to his. It was sufficient inducement, as his arms encircled her and drew her close.
Part of her mind told her to move away from his familiarity, but instead her hands moved on their own to his arms, and then slid slowly toward his broad shoulders. This should be wrong, she knew. He was arrogant and irksome, and far too rough mannered for her taste. He was not the sort of man she had always anticipated admiring and marrying, and yet her heart was blatantly ignoring the reason of her mind. She wanted this man. She wanted him with an intensity that was almost frightening.
Moments later, they broke apart, breathing heavily, and Morwen tried to steady her reeling senses. This could not be! He was nothing like the man she had always dreamed of marrying. She wanted a genteel man, a man of sense and reason. Yet these steely arms around her felt so very right, and the hunger and longing in his kiss had been overwhelmingly compelling. Unable to stop herself, she pressed her lips to his again and drank deeply, trying to quench some thirst she did not understand.
It was Caranhir who aborted the kiss this time, pulling away from her slightly and resting his forehead on hers. "Much as I am enjoying this, my sweet, I believe we must catch our breath. We are, after all, in the middle of the street in broad daylight. I do not wish anyone to speak ill of your behavior." His eyes flashed with unconcealed humor, and tenderness.
Morwen flushed red as her senses recovered, and she became aware of her surroundings once more. A peek from the corner of her eye told her their display of affection was not going unnoticed, as passersby grinned while they ogled the entertainment. Pulling hastily away from him and straightening her dress unnecessarily, she kept her eyes on the ground so she would not see the looks they were getting, or his eyes. "I…I must go," she stammered, turning to rush off.
Before she could escape, his hand snaked out and caught her wrist, as he gave her a mischievous grin. "Let me come also, beloved. Perhaps now you will allow me to speak to your father?"
She looked up at him, startled. Speak to her father? Now? But they had only just... She fell silent, flustered, and tried to clear her thoughts.
Linking her hand around the crook of his arm, Caranhir guided her up the road toward Meduseld. He kept quiet, allowing her time to steady herself. Just as they entered the main doors, she seemed to recover and pulled free of him. Staring at him in confusion, she tried to think of an argument against all of this. Everything was happening much too fast.
Now in the shadow of the hall, Caranhir could not resist capturing first her waist and then her lips once more, and again Morwen's thoughts fled in disarray. Succumbing to the pleasure of the embrace, she wound her fingers into his hair and drew him closer.
A loud voice suddenly followed a cleared throat. "I do hope you have come to ask for my daughter's hand in marriage, Caranhir. Otherwise, I must ask you to remember yourself!"
Morwen stumbled back, gasping, "Father! I...we..." She frantically sought an explanation for her untoward behavior, missing the amusement in her father's eyes.
Caranhir was more composed. "I have, my lord! But I apologize if I have taken too much liberty in expressing my affections to Morwen."
Eomer chuckled. "Come with me, both of you. I think it is time we had a talk." He turned and led the way to his study, and Caranhir wrapped an arm around Morwen's shoulders, urging her along in her father's wake.
Morwen felt as though she was somehow trapped in a dream, and was watching all this play out from a great distance. But she found she was not displeased with the events taking place. Like it or not, intended or not, Caranhir had stolen her heart despite her best efforts to prevent it. She had the unsettling feeling her life was never again going to be so smooth and tidy as she had planned. He would never be a placid, genteel husband. He would never bow and scrape, or settle for a dull and quiet life. He lived life with vigor and enthusiasm, and she was being sucked into the whirlpool he created.
Surreptitiously eyeing him, however, she could not find a reason to object. She wanted him, she wanted to be his wife, and she wanted to bear his children. Surely that was worth any inconvenience of his unruly manners. Surely that was worth bending her pride and rigid sense of protocol. After all, manners were highly overrated sometimes...
THE END
3/7/06 – 3/15/06
FYI: Caranhir means 'red lord'; Phinion means 'skilled son'; This takes place in 36 IV: Eomer is 65, Lothiriel 57, Elfwine 35 (kids: Arawine 13, #2 8, #3 ?), Theodwyn 28, Theomund 26, Morwen 22, Theodred 13.
A/N2: I got to thinking about this the other night – can you just imagine Caranhir taking Morwen home to meet his family? His family considers him sort of a backwoods embarrassment, and he walks in saying, "Hi Mom & Dad! Meet Morwen, my betrothed." They smile pleasantly and greet her, asking "Are you from around here, dear?" "Oh, sorry, Mom, I forgot to mention that Morwen is the daughter of King Eomer of Rohan and niece of Elphir, Prince of Dol Amroth, and Faramir, Prince of Ithilien." Parents now must try to pick their jaws up off the floor…