The Queen with the Fiery Hair
Approximately ten years after the Dark One's fall.
“I know it's alot to ask...” Anwën sat quiet and obedient, more lost for words than having any real input to contribute. She had been as such ever since Azeratii was still visible from afar. “...and I am in no way implying you aren't too preoccupied to watch over her.” She didn’t want to have anything to say. She didn’t have anything to say. “It's just... I want her to get some... Some insight, other than the one I can offer.” She knew what was happening. “And I trust you.” More than she would ever admit. Her mother swallowed, stumbling at her words as she held Anwën's shoulder, near frantic and almost stuttering as she presented her case. To have Nienna as her warden in the summers, taken from her home, from her friends, forced to forge new ones. Her sister abscent, her brother gone, her father... Perhaps that wouldn’t be that much of a change. “Just a few months here and there as she grows older.” Her mother wanted her gone. That was all this was about, Anwën was sure. She couldn’t quite grasp it. What had she done wrong? Was it something she had said? Was it the peculiar dreams, the feign speech? Was her mother irate that fencing didn’t interest her, or that she was so terrible at it? She hated it, every minute of it, and on occasion when her sister wasn’t there to see, had simply contended to seat and refuse to rise. For every swing she came in late, for every parry she missed, all she could think of is how disappointed her mother must be. That must be the reason she is sending her away. Perhaps, she didn’t have time for her now that father was returning into the picture. That she was too troublesome to care for when her mother wanted to patch things thoroughly. Perhaps it was her fault they were quarrelling in the first place.
The queen nodded, smiling towards her mother.
“Of course, she can stay here whenever she likes, Eylinn. You know that. I'll be sure to take good care of her, and she'll have everything that she needs.” She laughed to herself. “I'm sure my mother will be pleased to hear that there's another little girl running around the castle for her to fuss over as well.” Queen Nienna wasn’t like the stories she had heard. The Elf queens were radiant creatures, stuck in their solemn processions while carrying whole fathoms of Light in their arms. Their long moonlight stained dresses was supposed to stretch entire halls in length, woven in fabric as delicate and thin as a spider’s silk. Yet here the Elf queen sat in a leisurely modest dress of grey, stark in contrast to her red fiery hair. Her face was no sombre display, but a bright, near blushing faire of luminous glee, quick to wit and laugh at every opportunity. Mother made a sigh of relief, as if every word and even the thought to leave her daughter out of her sight were dealing her a great pain. Her mother was not that good of an actress, so her feelings must be true. Then it was as Anwën thought. She was a burden to her household afterall.
“Thank you... There's enough to deal with at home, and the Chasm is no place for her to stay. Even more so, you know my sister spend her fair share here in Coal, so to Mirrorwater would seem only to assert the same effect. Besides, there are more younglings for her to interact with here. Younglings of her own kin and kind.” She made a concerned frown. “Does saying that make me horrible, I wonder...” The queen placed a hand on her mother’s shoulder and smiled sincerely.
“It's not horrible. I understand. It will be good for her to spend extended periods of time with other Elves, especially if she is to rule in the Chasm one day.” For that to happen, her mother would have to be dead, however. Was her mother dying, without telling her? She kept insisting Anwën must read, study, prepare for being Therain. Yet... In the moment next she was quick to comfort, that Elves lead long lives, and she was going nowhere in a hurry. It was simply how it was, her role and burden, to prepare for something she would pray every night never needed to happen. She liked the princess role. She liked being pretty and quirky, and nothing more. Yet this constant struggle within made every passage she soaked in bitter.
“That is my hope.” Her mother said, caressing Anwën's head, which was dutifully and intently aimed towards the queen. It was a wondrous sight, and she couldn’t quite deduce whether she was utterly in awe, or terrified of this strange red haired figure before her. For all Anwën knew, the colour cold be a gift from the Creator’s wrath, or coloured stained by the blood of little girls just like herself. When her mother was about to open her mouth to respond, a knock was heard on the door. In came a tall Elf of light brown hair. It was one of mother’s aide’s, and he came leisurely in as he offered a courtly bow before Nienna.
“My queen... I need to speak with her maj...” He fell silent, confused and lost, straightening his back as he nodded towards mother. “That majesty. The Ther... Queen.” Panic spread across his face. Her mother hated when they bowed, and once saw her scolding a servant for what must been an hour, soaring into a rousing speech of dignity, respect and how none were different or less a child in the Creator’s arms. The servant had quit the next day. Anwën guessed he was off to find this strange deity’s embrace, or perhaps he only bowed because he couldn’t stop stepping on his own toes, and thus unfit for service under the queen. As the poor man stumbled on his words to find the correct formality, mother rose.
“I've expected news from the Chasm to arrive today. This may be urgent... My queen, do you mind?” The queen shook her head.
“Of course not. Go ahead Eylinn, I'll keep an eye on Anwën for you.”
“Thank you. It won't be long.” Anwën felt her mum’s touch upon her shoulder. “Be nice to the queen, girl. Mother will be back soon.” Anwën nodded. She looked around the room curiously, her little hands folded neatly over her waist, as she turned around on the spot to soak literally everything in. Why was the wooden ceiling always so filled with air in Galadriel? Why did the ornated panels upon the walls rich with so much life? In contrast with the long gardens at home that her mother had raised, the trees and bushes felt thicker and fed, spacious without culling or direction, they seemed to grew exactly the way they wanted to and neither less or more. The queen smiled at the curious girl’s careful procedure as she her to sit, to which she most dutifully obliged. Perhaps if she did as she wanted, she would treat her with treats.
“So, Anwën, are you looking forward to spending some time here? And you can be honest, I won't take it personally if you'd rather be in Azeratii with your family.” Grownups never liked honesty. She had read that in a book, she was sure, conscerting a rigid and formal posture upon the chair. Her back straightened and her head held high, trying to find the first and most honest comment she could possibly offer without suffering the distain and judgement of this strangely soft woman.
“It doesn't smell like manure.” She admitted. “It doesn't smell of incense either.” The queen laughed.
What’s so funny? It doesn’t... Or does it?
“Well, I'm glad that it doesn't smell too terribly.” The queen conceded, crossing her legs as she studied Anwën, exposed on her chair.
“Do you look forward to have me here?” Anwën followed.
“Of course I am. I imagine we'll have a great time. We can go and see the sights around Coamenel some time. You'll get to see our festivals, and maybe you'll be able to convince Armas to do something more than spend all of his time reading.” Anwën sat quiet for a short minute, revealing no emotion at all. Armas was a curious boy her age. Always so receded and reluctant when she and her sister had been around. It wasn’t only Nienna that Anwën was curious to explore, or suffer under. The many questions were brewing inside her chest, filing in an ever growing pile, shuffled in a mess of impressions and drifting logic. The queen was supposed to be her teacher. That much she had gathered. What advice, what answers, could she offer in affairs of state, conflict, and harsh debate? She decided to test it, and spoke in her most serious and decisive tone, to underline the gravity of her question at hand.
“Breasts, or behind?”
Lives may depend on it, yet the queen’s cheerful face had turned a deep crimson and her eyes had went wide, clearly shocked and unsure how to respond. This confused Anwën a great deal.
“W-What?” She stuttered.
“I overheard the stable hands at home argue over it before we left. It seemed very important to them, but I can't quite figure why.” She sighed. “I think we must resolve this matter before it goes out of hand. Breasts, or behind?” It was getting harder to differ the shift from the queen’s skin and hair, taking both an equally aggressive red as she shook her head.
“Oh, well, you know, it's not really all that important.” She responded in a nervous rouse. “Not something that we would need to be resolving anyway. Just idle chatter I'm sure.” Anwën bit her lip, not truly convinced, but this might have been a long standing issue that couldn’t be so easily solved. A beehive Anwën may have been wiser not to poke.
“You may be right. I hope no one perish, but that may just have to be nature's course, and not for us to intervene.” She pounded her fist hard into her palm with a decisive expression. “We'll settle with that both are best. It will show them we're impartial.” The queen nodded, her face still blushed as she stifled a laugh.
“A wise decision princess. No doubt you'll make for a fine Therain one day.” She watched the queen for a while saying nothing. It was an odd sight, how her skin came flushing with such ferocity. She wondered what for. Perhaps she was exhausted?
“Your face matches your hair. It is very pretty.” She said in an equally serious tone. “Have you been running, hunting for boars or deer?” She shook her head.
“I have not. I don't even know where I could go to find a boar actually. But thank you, I suppose. I'm told that my face does that quite often, even when just sitting around.”
“People say I get really red when I've been chasing the horses around, or when mum takes us hunting in the woods. My hair still is white though. What did you do to keep yours red?” She sported a curious smile, a smile to hide her anxious mind. As fresh the memory lingered the stories from the war, how her mother’s hair used to be red as well. The merry marshal of the Chasm was eager to share the stories whenever he could. Harrowing tales that refused to disappear, sending the most distasteful pictures inside Anwën’s mind, and kept her awake many a night. Red, red from the blood of Elf, Man and fiend alike, yet he always insisted there was rare a gentler creature than Eylinn. Would the same be true for Nienna?
“Well, I was born with it.” She conceded, leaving Anwën strangely disappointed, but relieved at the same time. The queen laughed. “I've always liked you Mindrilla's white hair though. It looks so lovely.” She continued, cocking her head to the side. “Have you ever actually managed to catch a horse you were chasing? It seems like it would be rather difficult.”
“No...” Anwën admitted, furrowing her brow. “You need to be smart with horses, because they're even smarter than us. You need to trick them into loving you, and bait them with vegetables. Then they will come to you. They really, really like vegetables.” Anwën nodded sagely. “They're strange that way. It's probably why they don't walk on two legs like us, or they wouldn't be able to reach the grass on the ground. Same for deer, same for cows. Green eaters all walk on four legs.” The queen kept laughing, even though Anwën couldn’t understand why. She usually laughed at jokes, not lectures. Perhaps Coamenel Elves were different that way.
“And what's so strange with liking vegetables? They're delicious.” Anwën wrinkled her nose in distaste. For a moment, she expected the queen to fall on all four herself. She imagined it wouldn’t be very practical however, in that dress. “You're right though in that horses are quite smart. My sister's is smarter than some members of this court I'd say.” This intrigued the little princess, as she slanted her head to the side.
“Have your sister dabbled into the arcane arts? Has she hexed the poor horse or the courtiers?” But again the queen had to make short work of her wild imagination, shaking her head while grinning wide.
“My sister, no, she doesn't have much of a penchant for the arcane. Myself on the other hand...” It was as if reality and fantasy came intertwined. The air was moving in the room, brushing at her skin and clothes. With a snap of the queen’s fingers, the windows flew open with a gust of wind. It swirled around them, engulfing them, carrying in its fathom a mixture of blossom and petals from the windowsill. Anwën looked at their dance in awe, her eyes wide open, unable to focus on anything else but the pink and purple colours floating around in the room, before leaving it the very same way they once came. She instinctively reached out a hand to grasp them, and it was hard to quell every surge of enthusiasm to chase them out into nature itself. But good girls didn’t jump and glee next to grownups, especially not little princesses. But smiling, that she could do, and it was the widest smile she had had since finding treasures with her sister.
“Like that! Like that!” She yelled as quietly and politely as she could, namely not very quiet or polite at all. “Just like I imagined! How did you do it? Who taught you such things?” The queen answered her smile with one of her own.
“Well, as far as how I did it... Magic! A lot of it was taught to me by my mother. She spent a lot of time studying magic when it first started coming back to the world, and then she showed what she learned to me. Of course, I've had twenty years to practice too.” The queen came into deep thought. “Haven’t your mother taught you at all? She was always far better at it than me.” Anwën raised her eyebrows, again riddled by the grownup’s tales.
“She never uses magic. She says I'm too young to try. Can you teach me how?” For her mother had so forbidden, saying its terrible force were none to admire. She always came with ill hidden sombre mood whenever she or Narien had been too quick to ask. The queen thought for a moment, looking unsure of herself, before smiling conspiratorially at the girl.
“Well... I suppose I could, but just something small, and you can't tell your mother that I showed it to you.”
“Not to her, not to a single soul...” She wondered if she’d one day be able to lift trees with her own breeze. A sly smirk came upon her face, as another clue was added to another of her many questions. “Is that why Armas read all the time? Because you're teaching him magic?” Nienna nodded.
“Some of the reason anyway. He's certainly interested in the subject and he enjoys when I teach him, but he reads about just about everything.” Anwën snorted, crossed her arms and looked to the side. She always thought the boy hated them, or didn’t like them because they could wear dresses while he could not. It was starting to make sense now, but it she still wasn’t too sure.
“He seems to like reading more than he like playing with us. Maybe I've been mean to him without even noticing. In any case, it's very weird.” The queen shrugged a little, smiling.
“I'm sure you've been nothing but pleasant, Anwën. He just doesn't spend much time with other children usually. He’s not very used to it, I think. He tends to spend his time with the priests or engineers, sometimes even the rangers, trying to learn everything he possibly can about what they know and what they do. I'm sure he'll warm up to you if you spend some time together.” She let out a brief sigh. “Frankly I think it would be good for him to spend more time with someone his own age.” She gave Nienna a mischievous smile.
“You want me to seduce him with my feminine wiles?” It’s what the nice ladies on the markets had insisted she should try. The queen quickly shook her head, blushing a little again. “Oh, no, nothing like that, Anwën... Where do you hear about these types of things? All from the stable hands?” She shrugged her shoulders.
“From the servants, stables, big brother…” She lied. Or at least mostly lied. “I read it in a book too, about ladies in their realm. I will have you know I'm an expert at the curtsy, and they say an Elf girl's smile can topple any man.” She placed her hands neatly upon her lap, as she took the same dead serious expression she had worn before. “Boys are stupid.” She just needed to have it said. The queen giggled.
“Indeed they are, Anwën.”
“Is that why you aren't married? Because boys are stupid?” She asked curiously, seeing her shake her head with a brewing frown.
“No, it's not that. I was... I was married briefly, during the war with the Dark One. He was killed while on a quest to capture the Maegi.” She ran a hand through her red, non-blood stained hair slowly. “I haven't had much desire to marry again.”
“Why?” Anwën asked, a bit more concerned. Boys were stupid… But they were still adorable. Sometimes.
“I just haven't met a man that I would like to marry, that's all. And it's not as if I need to marry for politics or to secure the succession.” Anwën grabbed her own chin, and studied the queen suspiciously.
“What if the boy was really, really cute, and he would tell fun jokes, and kiss you on the mouth, just at the right time. Not too late, not too soon? Would you marry him then?” Nienna paused for a moment, folding her hands on her lap as she thought.
“Well, perhaps. I do have people that I care about though, so it's not as if my life is empty without a husband. There's my family, your mother, and your aunt.” Aunt Evhana definitely had the best treats around, shared even under her mother’s stern objection. Perhaps it was those creamy chocolate buds that made the queen need no man?
“Auntie said you were really pretty, and that we could be real good friends.” She needed friends, just as much as she needed answers. Her mother had turned to fright, and her aunt had but whiffed it away as another of her many fantastic make-believes. She looked over to the fireplace, and sighed. There were still the damned dreams. The queen laughed.
“Well I'll have to thank her next time we see each other, and I'm sure that we will be good friends, we already have a secret between the two of us.” She paused as she noticed Anwën's sigh. “Is something wrong, Anwën?” Make-believes didn’t leave your head throbbing. It didn’t make you cold in summer, or boiling hot in winter. It didn’t make your body feel like a jail for something… Else. Your mind stalked by a ghost. Make-believe worlds were fun. She made them all the time. It was different, as much as she tried to tell herself it wasn’t so.
“What means the badger in Coal? Or the raven for that matter? Are there...” She hesitated, stopped mid-sentence. The queen began to look worried as she reached her hand out to Anwën's shoulder.
“Anwën? Are you alright? I'm not sure what you're asking me.” Anwën opened her mouth as she stared into the flames.
“Are there... Dragons?” She didn’t know, and she mustn’t know. She dressed her face in beaming wonder, as she looked back at Nienna. “Dragons, sky high, and as tall as the mountains?”
“Dragons? I... I don't think that there are any here in Galadriel. Perhaps some hidden away in islands to the North or deep in the forest, but none that I've ever seen.” Dragon’s to the North. Anwën always knew. The queen waved her hand, dismissing the question. “Anwën, you're ok?” She had said too much.
“Why wouldn't I be? I really like animals, and I want to slay a dragon someday.” She grinned. “If you teach me magic, I will gush it back into the abyss! And I'll take your son with me to do it, mark my word!” The queen smiled a little, as Anwën reverted more back to her old self again.
“If you really like animals why would you want to slay one, hmm? What if the dragon is good, protecting the forest or the islands from those who would harm it?” She smirked jokingly at her. This made Anwën pout.
“But in the stories the dragon is always evil, and he kidnaps the princess so a prince can save her. Then they get married, and destroy the bandits raiding the countryside. For a prince cannot marry his princess unless the dragon is slain, and the bandits build up mountains of gold in its service, or so they say.” She tilted her head. “Did your prince save you from a dragon?"
“Stories tend to put things into simpler terms than life though, don't you think?” What Anwën wouldn’t give for a little simple. “Of course, that's not to say you won't have an opportunity to slay one day.” She leaned forward, grinning. “But actually, when I was kidnaped by a dragon, I saved myself.” Anwën's jaw dropped, staring back in wonder.
“No way...” Anwën was now pretty convinced that this was probably the most amazing woman that ever lived. The queen laughed.
“Yes way. During the war with the Dark One, when the allied armies were camped in Hroniden, Zephfer the dragon stole me from my tent. He said that I either had to marry him or he would come to this castle and kill my family and people. I told him no.” She removed her glove, showing Anwën the scar in the shape of a dragon on her hand with a laugh. “Now do you believe me?” This changed everything. No longer could Anwën simply rely on nursery rhymes to tell her what the world should have been. If she wanted to make something believable, something wonderful out of it, she would just have to start writing the stories herself. She nodded solemnly.
“The stories have turned out to be lies, threatening to turn the reality we know into a web of untruths. It is clear it is the princess that must save the prince, and the prince and princess to become the bandits.” Anwën made a sly smirk. “I always knew it deep down that I'll have to rewrite the stories to fit my liking.” They always did lack that certain panache she always sought for, one where she herself was the heroine instead of a drag pulled along. She stood and made a most regal curtsy, befitting both the Elven women’s stature. “Thank you, my queen, who bestowed me proper sight. I shall work now to educate both the Dark and Light.” For all the good sagas were written in rhyme. The queen returned the gesture with a wide smile.
“Of course princess, you are most welcome. Just remember that your stories are yours to write, no one else’s.” The shrill anxiety she had initially felt was slowly dripping away, and paved way to an involuntary smile.
“I think I may take to liking it here.” She scratched her foot upon the carpet. “I hope your family feel the same, and that I won't intrude...” The queen shook her head, laughing.
“Of course you won't intrude, and I'm sure they'll all be excited to have you around.” Anwën looked over to the side, and bit at her lip.
“Even Armas?” She wasn’t sure why she even cared. Perhaps his reluctance was simply pushing her to earn his approval even more? Besides, spending so much time in Coal without someone to play with did sound like a rather dull affair. Horses may be smarter than people, but that didn’t mean they could talk. The queen nodded.
“Of course, Anwën. He'll just take time to get used to you. You may have noticed that he is somewhat shy.” She said with a laugh. Anwën looked up at her with a hesitant gaze, crossing her arms. It wasn’t a very confident reassurance.
“It's supposed to be the girls that are shy.”
So perhaps he doesn’t like me after all. The queen but laughed again. She laughed at the strangest things.
“And is that based on more stories?” She crouched down to meet Anwën’s slight height to look her straight into the eyes, a soft expression upon her face. “Just about every time we see you and your family he tells me how nice and sweet you are. I'm sure he'll be pleased to have you here.” Anwën didn’t need a mirror to tell the heat from her cheeks was a growing blush, and she couldn’t help but smile.
“Maybe we can write whole new stories together. Some are so much better when told by two, instead of one.”
“They certainly can. And I'm sure between the two of you they would be very interesting.” The idea of spending time away from home was suddenly not so dauntingly frightening or hurtful anymore. Perhaps this is what her mother wanted? For what really did wait for her back home? More grand halls of stone to which the badger could chase her through, the screech of birds and the judging eyes of her father’s court? The tense dinners and smelly marketplace? Galadriel may have that wilder insecurity over it, but at least it had air and other people with pointy ears. Her mother finally returned, greeting them with a deep sigh.
“Forgive my reproach... I hope you've at least had some time to talk?” The grace with which she walked up here was so much different, her hips freed and her back held taller. Even if the mean men of the Chasm gave her grief, it did not seem to wear her down as much. She approached them calmly, laying her warm hand upon Anwën’s head with an endearing smile. The Elf queen nodded, laughing quietly in response.
“We have indeed. And now I'm only all the more eager for her to stay here for a while. Everything went well with your news I hope?” Mother shook her head.
“I fear I cannot guarantee the sanctity and stability of the Chasm any longer. I do my best, and so are my advisors and my sister. It's not so easy to just recover from a complete immolation, even after a decade’s past.” Nienna nodded again, showing her understanding.
“I do not doubt it Eylinn. Is there anything that you need from me? I know it's not so easy, but I would anything I can to help you and your people.” Her mother chuckled sadly.
“I fear this may just have to be something they'll work out on their own. If times turn real dire, I will let you know if and how they need it.” She clasped her hands over her waist, as she offered a cherished smile towards Anwën. “Say good bye to the queen now, and I'll meet you downstairs with your sister. It's dastardly long to Azeratii, but I promise we hold off from the ferry this time.” Anwën blushed, having preferred the queen to not know of how ill she was taken with the sea. Being such a proud being of great feats in her past, it felt embarrassing to show even the vaguest hint of weakness after all was going so well. She nodded as her blushing grew furious, trying best to hide it by aiming her head away. As her mother left, she began again to ponder. There was so much more she knew, so many more puzzles to solve, so many more questions to ask and answers to seek. Couldn’t she just have a few minutes more? She walked sullen towards the door, trying her best to keep with the regal procession while leaning her head towards the open door.
“What is the best thing you know about your home?” The words but fled her lips without control, as she watched her mother’s carefree pacing down the hallway and beyond. The queen seemed to need a minute to explain. It is a blessing to need ponder what makes a person happy the most.
“The best thing? It's difficult to say. I'm fond of the wellspring and the gardens myself. Why do you ask?”
Was it worth telling? She deemed it so. For all Anwën knew, she would already know. They spoke with each other on first name tense. Inconspicuous and resigned, modestly dressed or no, Nienna was the person that her mother humorously called The Queen of Queens, a fountain for so much relief and joy. Anwën clenched her lips.
“Mine is that mum never seem to cry when she's here. She doesn’t want us to see it, and she really tries to hide it. But I'm not blind. No one needs to go relieve themselves that often.” Home wasn’t very homely to Anwën anymore, sweets, bright and radiant dresses aside. Even in Mirrorwater she took refuge whenever she could, waiting every day for father to write her. She was so selfish. What of herself and Narien then? Did they not miss father too? When Anwën wanted to cry, she didn’t. She shrugged her shoulders, unknowing whether to be angry or sad, or neither. The queen frowned, seemingly unsure how to respond. It seems she didn’t know then after all.
“I... I'm glad that she is happy here as well. Perhaps you can convince her to come more often? You're always welcome here. If you ever want to talk about anything like that I'm here, Anwën.” As soft those words could be spoken, Anwën already had found her relief. The dashing tales of bravery, bandits, dragons and mountains of gold. She’d see them one day, and she’d show them! Life is for the joyous and valiant, and too short for sulks and frowns. “I'll try to speak to her about it when we get a chance.” The princess nodded.
“A grand scheme.” She took a small rose gilded silver pin from her hair, and walked over to Nienna to place it in her hand. “It's a lucky pin.”
It really wasn’t. “I placed a charm on it myself.”
She really hadn’t. “It will bring swift victory in your every engagement, and in your every task you set your heart into.”
It actually might. It is very pointy. “You can keep it, or you can give it to someone you think need it more.”
So you don’t forget me till I’ve returned. The queen smiled as she looked at the pin before bending down, taking Anwën into an embrace.
“Thank you Princess, I truly appreciate it.” Her smile grew wider, just as wide as her sister’s grew whenever she was brewing plans being up to no good. “Of course I'll have to repay you somehow. What about a sword? One fit for slaying dragons and forged by the best Elven craftsmen? Would you like that?” Anwën's eyes sparkled, and a radiant smile grew on her face. She could barely believe what she was hearing.
“Can I really?” The queen nodded.
“Of course! I'll task the palace blacksmith with making it right away.” Anwën pulled herself swiftly around the queen’s neck, and squeezed her tight. She was convinced that spending time in Coal would be no trouble at all, after all. Anwën ran towards the door, and waved unrestricted and free towards her new warden through the gap of the door.
“Bye, queen of fiery hair, and mistress of the leaves!” She laughed at Anwën’s colourful titles, the best titles ever made. Taking a last glimpse of the hallway as she rushed down towards the palace stairs, she couldn’t help but realise. A whole new land awaited her here, of adventure, shimmering sights and stories to share. She took a detour towards the balconies on the south side of the tower, and stretched herself over the railing down towards the streets below. Elves, just like her, tumbling down the narrow pathways in an industrial, calm and pulsating rhythm, sharing life in the land of fairy tales. On one side the cold sea, on the other the lush crisp leaves of trees, thousands of years old. If mother could be happy here, so could she.
And no trixy badger or any raven’s caw would change that for even a day.
The Minstrels sing of how Princess Anwën becomes Queen Nienna's ward.