Preconceptions

I looked for a lady, small and soft. This Queen is tall as I, and her face, though unmarked by age, could never be mistaken for young. Her fine-drawn strength reminds me of a well-balanced blade, and I blurt out my thought. "Do you know the sword, Lady Arwen?"

She smiles. "Somewhat, though I am not as adept as you. I am reckoned an excellent archer, however," she adds, with a glance at her brother that tells of old jokes.

I find myself smiling in return. "I fear I am no master of the bow; perhaps we may exchange tutoring."

[This was a practice run for Makamu's.]