Switched – A story of how a girl switched with Eowyn. One part.

by Aug 4, 2004Stories

Author’s Note: I just wrote this story first person, but the character is not me. I don’t own any of the Lord of the Rings characters, by the way.

I sat blankly back, listening to my TTT soundtrack with all the emotion I could muster. It was enough; my heart felt like bursting from all of the passion pumping in through. I closed my eyes, and suddenly, in my mind, I was there. I could see the plains of Rohan in my thought, and I could smell the sweet fragrance of day. I wished desperately that I could be there, but alas, I could not. The music was fading away, and I wondered if my little brother was playing a trick on me. I didn’t want to open my eyes just yet, and I wondered why my hair was blowing into my face. A ripping sound disturbed my thoughts. Instinctively I opened my eyes.

And I almost had a seizure.

I was in Rohan, standing just outside of Meduseld. And the banner was ripping off just as it had in The Two Towers.

I’m a teenage girl, and my name is Lúthien Barker. Yes, my parents did name me Lúthien. I am nineteen, but let me continue my story.

I looked around, trying to see how I got here. I couldn’t say I was shocked to see Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli, and Gandalf come riding towards me. But what scared me was my hair. It was blonde.

Okay, so you think I’m a real freak. But really, it was blonde. And normally, I have black hair, just like Lúthien. I looked at my hands, and my nail polish was gone. Vamoose. I turned briskly around, and walked straight up to a guard.

Hold on! Why am I wearing a dress!?!

Questions pressed my mind as I addressed one of the guards.

“Sir, who am I, and what am I doing here?” I asked frankly.

“Why, you are the Lady Éowyn,” he said, with respect coloring his tone. My knees felt weak and my heart skipped a beat.

“I am?” I inquired faintly, and I couldn’t decide whether I should scream and work myself into a homesick frenzy, or if I should black out right then and there. I decided to be calm.
Yeah, right.

“Yes, madam.”

I smiled weakly, and wondered what Éowyn did off screen. I scurried inside Meduseld, and went into a hallway. I pondered feebly where I should go, but I decided I would hang around Meduseld so when I figured it was time to rush in, I could do so readily. I waited, cautiously surveying my surroundings. Lines from movies, commercials, songs, and books drifted silently through my brain, and I wondered if I was dreaming:

“Everybody love parfait…”
“You are lost, you can never go home…”
“Perfect. It’s settled then…”
“The Ring must be destroyed!”
“He’s so little!”
“He looks – Elflike…”
“And in the mornin’, I’m making waffles!”
“Keep it together, man!”
“He’s dead, Jim…”
“Stupid head…”
“I’m going to be a master of disguise…”

I shook myself out of insanity when I heard Spongebob’s scream echoing in the back of my head.

Lúthien, keep it calm! I thought as I steeled myself to enter the big hall. I had perfect timing, and I rushed in just when Éowyn should. Aragorn grabbed my wrist (or was it Éowyn’s wrist?) just as I expected, but man, he obviously didn’t know how strong he was. I hoped no one was looking at me as I cringed quite visibly. I know I ought to care about Théoden, but somehow he didn’t really seem all that important when my arm was being slowly cut off.

“Aragorn, let go!” I whispered furiously, not caring that he would react because I knew his name. His grip only tightened, and my fingers started getting numb. I wondered how long it would take for my arm to fall off. I figured it would start with my fingers…

Oh, gross!

Okay, Aragorn, if you don’t let go, pain will have a whole new definition for you!

Not to mention, it would also be new to me. Ouch!!!

“I mean it!” I murmured, hoping only Aragorn heard. “Let go!” he finally released his iron grip. I breathed a sigh of relief. I figured that it was time for Éowyn to go see Théoden, so I ran up and knelt exactly as Éowyn had done. My smile, I must admit, was less than genuine, but hey, my wrist and fingers still felt numb. I hoped desperately that my breath wasn’t foul, but I think I did a fairly good job of maintaining Éowyn’s personality. I backed off, thinking it was the right thing to do, and Théoden rushed out after Grima. I followed, along with half a million other people, and I wondered in the back of my mind if Legolas would have the nerve to grab my arm. I hoped not, but my natural instinct forced me to start and run slightly forward as Théoden was just about to bring his sword down on Grima.

My arm felt a familiar searing pain as Legolas grabbed my arm and I was rather forcibly jerked back. Dark thoughts commandeered my mind, as I waited patiently (not) for Legolas to release my arm. I worked hard on remembering that he didn’t know that my arm hurt more than it ever had, but his grip was, at a snail’s pace, killing me. I tried to think happy thoughts, and fortunately, I managed to maintain self-control. I practically cried when Théoden asked:

“Where is my son?” and I thought the movies was tear jerking! The real thing is so sad. I wondered what would happen to me, because I had no clue what Éowyn did in her spare time. Legolas finally let go of my poor, aching, throbbing arm, and I tried to rub a little feeling back into it.

Somehow I managed to find my way back inside, and I found Éowyn’s bedchamber after asking a zillion different people for directions. I didn’t care that they probably wondered why Éowyn would ask stuff like that; I was tired and I needed to think. I sat down on the bed and lay back.

Lúthien, why are you Éowyn? I asked myself. Perhaps you are dreaming. I stood up and slapped my arm. HARD!!

“Yow!” I shouted, not realizing how strong I was. Or how strong Éowyn was, for that matter.

Okay, you aren’t dreaming. How on Earth, er, Middle-earth did I get here? Creepy. I am so dead. I don’t know a thing about what to do our where to go or what to say – or jeeps, how to react. Okay, so I have seen the movie – seven times – but how does that help me? All right, stay cool, and try to remember as many lines as you can. I flopped back onto the bed.

“Oh man. If anyone where to come in right now-” I said aloud. As if it were planned, a maid walked patiently in.

“Oh, I’m intruding,” she started. I stood up rapidly.

“Oh no! Not at all,” I stuttered, trying to make the maid more relaxed but only inducing more nervousness. To my joy and extreme thankfulness, she set out an entire outfit for me to wear, and my heart and mouth poured forth thanks to match that of anyone.

“You’re welcome, milady,” the maid said, making a break for the door. It felt strange, being called ‘milady’. I couldn’t help thinking ‘malady’, but I quickly shook the idea out of my head. I got dressed as best possible, did my hair the best I could (which was quite nice, I’ll add. I’ve practiced it so many time on my hair, it was a breeze), and finished my preparations. I hoped desperately that I could find my way back to Meduseld.

Pffff! In my dreams!

And I thought finding my room was hard?! Oh man, I had to ask so many people how to get back. It was embarrassing. I finally got there, and I was just in time to listen to Frida and her brother. It was interesting listening to them, but I had to pause a lot so I could give one of them a hug. Maybe un-Éowyn-like, but I honestly didn’t care. Finally they finished their tale, and I turned to everyone in the room and declared (praying that I got the lines right):

“Their village was attacked; they had no warning.” I enjoyed the musical sound Éowyn’s voice made as I said it.

“Where is Mama?” little Frida asked, and I hugged her again as I calmed her. War waged itself in my heart; I couldn’t decide if I should tell her about finding her mother in Helms Deep. I finally opted for letting the movie play its course, but I was heavy hearted.

“Ah!” I exclaimed, realizing something. It kind of came out `blarh!’ in my rather stupid explosion, but thoughts pressed my mind as I grimaced. Everyone paused in their dialogue to stare at me.

“Oh hey!” I said. I grinned rather idiotically, and I could have sworn I saw a smile flicker over Aragorn’s features. I regained my thought line. Okay, so I’m Éowyn. I’m really actually nineteen, but now I’m Éowyn. Henceforth, Aragorn has a crush on me! I am so doomed. ]/I] I smiled sweetly at Théoden, hoping that I looked natural. A foolish smirk worked itself onto my face as ridiculous quotes from movies drifted through my brain. My eyes probably looked like they were from some zombie movie, and I was so wrapped up in my thoughts that I found myself staring at Aragorn with unseeing eyes. When I snapped back into reality, I think I invented a new shade of red I was blushing so hard. Gimli looked amused and Aragorn was way whacked out. He recovered enough to say his lines, though.


I dug through a big trunk and finally completed my archeological investigation to discover Éowyn’s bright, shiny sword. I drew it carefully out and pressed my hand on the flat side. I had taught others and myself how to use a sword, and I used my abilities now: I swung the weapon in a rhythmic fashion, twirling the blade around and about. I was lost in my thoughts when suddenly, metal grated against metal, and Aragorn was standing in front of me.

“You have some skill with a blade,” he said. I flipped his sword around just as Éowyn had done, and I hoped that my face at least vaguely resembled hers.

“The women of Rohan learned long ago how to fight. Those who do not know how to wield a sword can still die by one,” I said, gently and carefully putting the sword back in its sheath.
“I fear neither death or pain,” I continued, begging my mind to permit perfect memory of lines.

“What do you fear my Lady?” Aragorn asked, cocking his head slightly and mumbling in a minor degree.

“A cage.” I glanced at him. “To stay behind bars until use and old age accept them. And all chance of valor has gone beyond recall or desire.” I knew I failed miserably on the dialogue, but Aragorn didn’t have a script, so who cares?
Well, I do, but I was caught up in the moment.

“You’re a daughter of Kings. A shield maiden of Rohan. I do not think that will be your fate.” I looked at him, but he was gone. Doubts began gnawing at my mind. Where was the real Éowyn? Was she back at home, brandishing my replica of Narsil against my family? I sincerely hoped not. But then, who could tell? Éowyn definitely had no script or movie to follow, and if she were back at home, she would flip out. But I needed to go, and packing didn’t just do itself. I lugged everything outside, and it was all finally ready as someone handed me the reigns to my horse and packed my bag onto the saddle.

I mounted gracefully (having done so many times at the local stable), and rode off with the rest of the group. I came upon Gimli, who was toiling near the end. I smiled and dismounted, and offered him the use of my horse. He accepted gladly, and he mounted rather well, for a little guy.

I walked beside my horse, and chattered with Gimli.
He was really quite an engaging fellow, and I enjoyed myself immensely. I finally came up to Aragorn who was leading his own horse. I passed him. I remained a careful distance ahead of him, and Gimli finally got onto the conversation of Dwarf men and women. I peeked behind me for a moment, and cracked a smile when Aragorn mouthed,

“It’s the beards…” while he made a little goatee gesture with his hands.

“And some seem to think that Dwarves just spring up from the ground out of holes!” Gimli said, gesturing. I laughed, and before I knew it, my horse had taken off and Gimli had fallen. I ran over to him, and he got up after much protesting. I caught my horse quickly, and I checked gently to see if anything was loose. I lightly smoothed the horse’s shining coat, and I glanced over at Aragorn. I couldn’t help but smile, but I turned my gaze quicker than Éowyn originally had.

We rode or walked for a good while longer, and finally I heard Legolas snarl:

“A scout!”

I immediately sought Théoden.

“Let me go, I can fight!” I said, though I felt the exact opposite. Sure, I can swing a blade around, but kill anything? That was pushing it. Okay, so maybe I could kill a 99.9% dead Warg, but a live one was out of the question.

“You must lead the people to Helms Deep, and make haste,” he countered.

“I can fight!” I hate lying.

“You must do this, for me,” Théoden said. I did my best to look somewhat disgruntled about it all, but of course I let Gimli take my horse.

“Gather together! Let’s not get separated! Come on, let’s go to Helms Deep!” I cried as encouragement, but I wasn’t really thinking about it. I sought out Aragorn, and amidst the fray, I saw him. His horse was rearing about, and his hair whipped wildly into his face as he turned his head. He nodded briefly at me, and I turned to lead the company to Helms Deep.

Unfortunately, I have no clue where Helms Deep is. Yes, I do know it’s in Rohan somewhere, but where in Rohan is beyond me. So, I put this other guy in charge of leading, and I just walked in the back. Frida and her brother (I can’t remember the little tyke’s name!) were riding close by, and I chattered with them for a while. At last, when my legs felt like overcooked noodles and my feet felt was big as my computer screen back at home, someone shouted,

“Helms Deep!” I hugged the nearest person, and she hugged me right back. I smiled, deeply happy that I could find a place the sleep! We finally got in, and I sat down, enjoying the sheer comfort of sitting on something. I finally got up, and asked were I could find a place to have a nap. He immediately showed me a small room, and I wilted onto the hard, creaky bed like a dead man. My stuff was on my horse, and Gimli or Legolas was on my horse currently, so I couldn’t exactly change. But I didn’t really want to, and I was content to wait for the rest of the warrior folk to come back.

I finally got up from my resting-place and walked around until I got back to the main entrance. I sat down, and waited patiently for everyone to come back. I didn’t have to wait long; they came riding in a few minutes after I sat down. I stood immediately, and said to Théoden,

“So few. So few have returned.” I looked around thoughtfully, trying to see my horse. Théoden said something, but I wasn’t paying a huge deal off attention to him. Gimli at length came up, and I asked earnestly to him:

“My Lord Aragorn? Where is he?” Gimli said he fell, and I sat back with shock. I knew of course that he would come back later, but it felt so real. I tried to remember how he got back, but my memory eluded me. I realized with terror that I was forgetting things, and I couldn’t remember what Frodo was bearing. I couldn’t even remember Frodo’s companions, the Hobbits maybe? Their names escaped my memory. I couldn’t think straight about them.

Oh, no! I couldn’t even remember the Elf dude who helped them at, what was it, Ravendick? No, that’s not right! Rivendell! I sat for a long time, trying to remember who Elijah Wood was, and what my father did for a living. I honestly couldn’t remember what my little brother’s name was. Jack? No, Andrew. Yes, that’s right Andrew. But, who was Peter Jackson? A singer? No! Wrong again. Oh, what did he do? I shook my head and rubbed my eyes. Legolas came up, and placed a hand on my shoulder. I couldn’t remember what his name meant as I stared blankly up at him.

“Lady, you should not take Aragorn’s death so heavily,” Legolas said.

“Who’s Aragorn?” I asked stupidly. Legolas seemed rather shocked.

“Are you in denial?” he asked, crouching beside me.

“No, I remember now.” I grasped for a memory of the tall, grey-eyed man. “Thank you for caring, Legolas. Your name is Legolas, right?” I made sure. I wasn’t convinced of everything at the moment, and I wanted to be positive.

“Yes,” he said, nodding slightly.

“Good,” I droned. A clear thought of my real life remained; Tolkien wrote this, and I have to stay true to Tolkien. I didn’t forget about my family, though, and a slight aching feeling burned in my heart. I missed Andrew, and my mom, and my dad. I even missed schoolwork.

Legolas grinned and walked away, and I stood up rather shakily. Losing memory was a traumatic experience, and I hoped I wouldn’t forget anything else. I discovered that my horse was in the stable, but that was far back so I couldn’t get at it. Someone I didn’t know handed my sword to me, so I faked it and thanked him graciously. I buckled the weapon at my waist, and stroked it fondly. I wondered why I was fond it, but I figured I was sort of melding into Éowyn, and she most likely was fond of her sword.

I found myself walking around, patting people on the back and giving hearty words encouragement. I enjoyed myself immensely, and I eventually found Frida and her family. I hugged them all, and sat for awhile and talked with them. I got up after about a half an hour, and bade them all farewell. I again walked around, encouraging and most often hugging people. I made my way back to my newly retrieved trunk, and was sorting things out and getting things in a general order when Aragorn came riding back in. I could feel my face lighting up with joy, and I nearly ran over.

But I stopped myself when I saw Legolas hand Aragorn his necklace back, and I fought hard and long with my memory to dredge up what Arwen’s name was. I finally cranked it out, and ran over immediately to my trunk so I could find something to write it down. I wrote down everything else I could remember, but the list was terrifyingly short. Lines from movies, my name, family members, yes Arwen’s name was on there, right down to bits and pieces of school. Things that mattered to me most I could remember, but I couldn’t see my brother’s smiling face anymore. He was only a loving memory.

I waited for nightfall, knowing something big was going to happen. The memory just danced on my fingertips, but when I reached for it, it was gone. I finally went to find someone, anyone, and I at last came upon Gimli.

“Gimli, what is going to happen tonight? I can feel the tension in the air,” I asked.

“You have not heard? The Uruk-Hai are coming!” he said, rather excited. I knew what an Uruk-Hai was; I had all of Éowyn’s memories floating through my head. Wonderful images of people came through my thoughts, but that was beyond me at that moment.

“The Uruk-hai!” I wailed softly, my breath floating in my throat from my momentary gasp. Gimli nodded gravely. “Thank you for telling me, Master Gimli,” I said, putting a hand on his shoulder before walking swiftly away. I didn’t know what to do, but I figured I should do something about killing Orcs…

I wandered through the many halls of Helms Deep, but to my surprise I knew my way. Oh yeah, I’m Éowyn. I wonder if the real Éowyn is me now, I wondered. Somehow that didn’t sound too wonderful. I loved being in Middle-earth, but nothing can replace home and family. I glumly figured that soon my family wouldn’t matter, and Éomer would be my close family. My only close family. I could draw some comfort from knowing that I would be happy, but I couldn’t stop thinking about my family. Time passed swiftly, and before I knew it, darkness had fallen.


Éowyn stared blankly around the room. Why does everyone call me Lúthien? She thought, her hands clasped on her lap. She was sitting on my bed, vacantly surveying the tragic mess my bedchamber was. Andrew, who was sixteen at the time, leaned on the door post.

“Lúthien,” he asked, attempting to get her attention. Éowyn had been in my place for two days now, and while she sat on my bed, I was asking Gimli what was going on that night. Her memory was fading like mine, and I hoped she enjoyed my memories as much as I enjoyed watching distant things rolls past my vision like rain on a hillside.

“Lúthien!” my brother called again, and Éowyn snapped out of her trance.

“Yes, Andy?” she asked, using my pet name for him. Wait, now it was Éowyn’s pet name. But wait even further: I was Éowyn, she was Lúthien, so it was Lúthien’s pet name for him. But I’m Lúthien! Oh, forget it.


I held my sword aloft, and waited for the Uruk to round the corner. I was behind a rock in Helms Deep, and another woman stood near me.

“I don’t know!” she whispered very softly in my ear. “He’s got a knife!” I grinned in spite of myself.

“That’s not a knife!” I said, leaping from my hiding place. “This is a knife!” I exclaimed. I stabbed the evil thing with my sword. Three more Uruks rushed me, but my hot temper flared and I killed them before I knew it.

“Come on!” I whispered. “We have to get this hole blocked up.” My friend and I called a few more ladies to help, and soon the hole was covered snugly. I looked down with disgust. My once-clean dress was splattered with red-green-black blood, and my hand was cut from a nasty swipe by my last attacker.

“Oh no!” I moaned, rolling my head backwards and bringing it back up with a snap. “If this blade is poisoned…” I left the remainder of my sentence hanging.

“Don’t worry, milady. I think I can help get that cleaned up.” A woman put her hand on my back and steered me over to where she had been sitting.

“Thank you so much,” I said as she started cleaning my gash. It hurt really, really bad, but being Éowyn I didn’t flinch. She wrapped a bandage around it after putting some sort of powder on it, and it felt better immediately. I grabbed up a thin slab of wood, and carefully scraped all the sticky, gooey blood off my dress.


Éowyn (who was now Lúthien) laughed, and hugged my brother.

“So you want me to drive you to your friend’s house?” she asked, smiling.

“Well, I have my learners permit. I could drive, and all you have to do is sit, drive home, and then come pick me up tomorrow!” Andy said.

“Okay, I’ll do that. Just let me change real quick,” Éowyn said, and Andy grinned as she shut the door.

“Thanks!” he yelled through it, banging his fist happily against it.

“Hey!” Éowyn called, amiably. “Don’t bust the door down!” Andy laughed and Éowyn could hear him walking away. She emerged swiftly, and soon she and Andrew were driving away.

“Andy,” Éowyn addressed my (or her) brother. “I keep having these weird memories, like from the movie. I think I’m Éowyn.” Andy guffawed.

“It’s just your over-whelming desire to be her, that’s all,” he said, patting her on the shoulder. Éowyn looked troubled, but she said nothing.


I fished around in my trunk, and my hand brushed something paper-like. I picked it up, and read it:

My name is Lúthien Barker.
My brother is Andrew.
My dad works at a mill.
My mom’s maiden name is Garren.
I am nineteen.
Arwen is Aragorn’s fiancé.
I don’t belong here.
Corn bread are round. (Inside joke!)
Tolkien wrote Lord of the Rings.
I own a dog.
My dog’s name is Pippin.

Pippin? Who’s Pippin? I asked myself, turned the paper over and reading it again. And I’m not nineteen. I’m older than that! Besides, my brother is Éomer, not some Andrew person. Questions broke my silent thoughts, as I shoved the paper into my pocket. I sought Théoden. Maybe he could clear things up for me, and I desperately hoped so. I couldn’t find him, and I heard:

“To the King!” and many cheers and shouts. I looked out a window, and saw my (Éowyn’s) brother and countless other Riders coming down a hill; charging the Uruks. My voice joined the thousands of cries, but Éomer could not hear me. My smile did not fade, however, and I felt a tear of joy slide down my cheek. I watched as all the Uruk-Hai were slain, and I finally ran out amidst the ferocious carcasses of men and Orcs to find Éomer. He was riding slowly on his horse, and he didn’t see me until I quickly mounted behind him and crushed my face against his armor.

“Éowyn?” he asked, not quite sure who was hugging the life out of him.

“Yes!” I cried, and he laughed suddenly.

“Well I’ll be!” he exclaimed. We must have made a strange appearance, riding through mounds of dead things, going towards Helms Deep. There we both dismounted, and I hugged him again.

“Éowyn, is something wrong?” he asked, a broad grin on his face.

“No!” I said, looking into his dark brown eyes with a smile.

“I see. But why the big hello?”

“I missed you so much!” I exclaimed. He surveyed my rather darkly stained dress.

“Have you been fighting?” he asked suspiciously.

“Yes, but you better be happy I did. Made short work of four Uruks, I might add. We blocked up a hole where they were coming through,” I said, a smirk appearing on my face. “But, Éomer,” I said, dropping back into reality. “Look at this. It’s my handwriting, and I seem to remember writing it. I don’t remember any of the things on there.” I handed him the piece of parchment. He studied it, his brows knitted together.
“I don’t know what to make of it,” he said, giving it back to me. I frowned as I accepted it.

“I can’t figure it out either.” I folded the thing up, and thrust it back into my pocket. Éomer patted my shoulder with a gloved hand.

“Well, I’ll see you later,” he said as he walked away. I smiled after him, and went to find Aragorn. Doubt gnawed at my heart. What if he had fallen? My fears were disbursed when I saw him, and I gave him a big hug. He smiled, but he apparently wanted to get away from me. What did I do wrong? Oh well. I found Théoden, Gimli, Legolas, and multiple other people and I gave a few bear hugs.

After the main confusion, I went to my room and got out of my now dry, caked-with-blood dress. I felt so much cleaner after taking a bath and washing my hair. I changed into a dark green dress, and carefully pulled some of my hair away from my face. I tied half of it back with a thin string, and I slipped into a pair of comfortable shoes.


Éowyn drove home, and got back just in time to sit down to dinner. She ate quickly, and went into her room. Brooding around, cleaning up a bit, she discovered a piece of paper. It said similar things that mine did, but they were related to the real Éowyn, not me. She shook her head and stuffed the slightly crumpled parchment into her pocket. Éowyn flopped onto her bed, and turned the CD player on, listening to whatever was in.

It was the TTT soundtrack, and she skimmed it over to her favorite, just as I always do. Heart wrenching music floated around the room, and she hummed to the gentle, war-weary violins from the Rohan theme. Memories came flooding violently back to Éowyn, and she suddenly saw her real brother, not Andrew. A solitary tear trickled down her face, and her heart felt like bursting. Every single good emotion screamed that she needed to be there, and suddenly, she was. Helms Deep never looked so good.


I looked around with a start. My room was here, I was flopped on my bed, my CD was playing, and my name was Lúthien. Memories of my real life splurged over me, and my head got a bit dizzy for a moment. I could remember all that Éowyn had done in my own self. A crinkly piece of paper was in my pocket, and I quickly smoothed it out and framed it. I’m not sure why, but somehow it was that important to me. Of course, all my family and friends were going to think I was insane, but hey, I was happy I could live in Éowyn for a little while.

Éowyn had found my own crinkly piece of paper, and something tells me that she had kept it safe, too.

My Point:

Now, don’t get me wrong, it was fun being Éowyn. I still have all her memories and feelings, and now I just know that I’m going to sob my heart out whenever I see her in the movies. I’m not sure how Éowyn likes having my memories, but I hope she enjoys them. It’s nice being home, and my bed sure beats anyplace at Helms Deep, but sometimes I wish I were back there. I would be able to just watch the wind sweep the plains and the eagle soar up in the sky.

But back to my point.

Rohan has its advantages, but home is definitely sweet. Okay, so sometimes I do wish that I was riding a horse along the plains of Rohan, watching the morning sun rise in all its glory and splendor. And every so often, I think I do.


P.S. I would very much appreciate reviews!


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Found in Home 5 Reading Room 5 Stories 5 Switched – A story of how a girl switched with Eowyn. One part.

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