The Princeling and the Pebble
There was once a drow princess of a great House, who sought for herself a fine consort, who might become her patron if she became Matron Mother. Her servants searched all through the city, and even looked to drow from other cities, but no House's son was all that she desired, and she would not content herself with less than her ideal.
One cycle of Narbondel, much like any other, a drow male in ragged clothes, yet with the fine long hair of the highborn, sought entry into her House. He claimed to be a prince of his House, a direct son of its Matron.
"We shall see," said the princess, and directed the princeling male to a guest chamber.
There, a servant slipped a tiny pebble beneath a great many mattresses and blankets.
The night passed, and when she met her guest, she asked how he had rested.
"Oh, lady," he said, reverently, "it was a terrible night. Some great boulder bruised me mightily, and I could not enter Reverie at all."
The princess had the pebble brought to her, and realised that this male must be sensitive indeed to have felt it through so many layers.
And so she tormented him for many nights, exploiting his sensitivity, precisely as he deserved for being both so weak and soft, and so foolish as to have complained and revealed it. And his pain taught her much of the nerves of a body.
She then went out and found a stronger male to be her consort, and thus avoided bearing weak or stupid children who would bring her House into disrepute. And so her success pleased her greatly, and her consort served her well.
A/N: The original of this tale always bothered or irritated me a little, glossing over as it did that the primary purpose in those days of 'finding a princess' was to locate a suitable woman to give one an heir. How would a woman dainty enough to feel a pea through mattresses get through childbirth? Fortunately, the drow are pragmatic and would prefer strong bloodlines, not dainty weakness, to be passed down to their daughters.