Conquest

“Who is she?” Éomer wondered aloud. The feast had ended and now the guests were enjoying themselves with dancing or talking.

“Éomer, there are a lot of females,” his northern friend pointed out, “you have to be more precise.”

“The beauty with the sea-blue dress over there,” the King of Rohan clarified, “what is her name?”

Ah, yes, beautiful indeed, and still unwed. Her name is Lothíriel, Imrahil's daughter. Would you like me to introduce you?”

“Nay, my friend, I am man enough to do that myself.”

Aragorn chuckled. “Yet you think so, but none of your deeds can prepare you for the conquest of a woman;” he lowered his voice, “for their means of fighting are not fair, and before you realize it, they have conquered you.”