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yuletide in eryn carantaur
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Two months ago

“Brightstar’s foal,” said Eowyn. “It will be born before Yule.”

Legolas looked up in surprise. “That is a kind thought, melmenya.”

“But?”

“He is—particular.”

“And Brightstar’s foal is not good enough?”

Wincing, Legolas laid down his pen and, catching her hands, raised them to his lips. “It will be his loss, Eowyn nín.”

That seemed to appease her, and she frowned, thinking hard. “Jewellery then. Something white and sparkly.”

Legolas shook his head. “Too—”

“Impersonal?”

“Expensive.”

Sighing, Eowyn consulted the list they had already spent three nights compiling. “Another bow, then?”

Legolas seized his pen. A bow, he wrote.

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