The accounts of the War of the Ring by Queen Arwen Undomiel, daughter of Elrond; and Princess Éowyn, daughter of Éomund of the House of Éorl.

Discovered by Aminta Took, daughter of Erlin Took, and translated from the Quenya and the Rohirric to the Common Tongue by aforesaid Erlin son of Peregrin Took III

Foreword by Aminta Took

My profession is that of an archaeologist; I am the daughter of a linguist who works primarily with dead languages. I was raised around ancient history; my job is about ancient history. I had long been fascinated by tales of Arwen Úndomiel and Éowyn—my mother, like most hobbit mothers, had told me their stories in my cradle, along with the stories of Eleanor the Fair,

I came across the two books containing the autobiographies of Queen Arwen and Princess Éowyn in the year 3400, two-hundred and sixty-eight years after the passing of the Queen and her husband, and centuries after the passing of Éowyn (an event that is not dated by history).

I was in the process of writing a book on famous Middle-Earth females, and for my research was ransacking the ruined portions of that beautiful city, Gondor. While in the more populated areas, an old woman had been telling some children the legend of Arwen and Aragorn, a love story, and the tale of how Arwen had hidden her memoirs. Overhearing this story, I made a point of speaking to the woman after, gathering specifics. Arwen's autobiography would make a breathtaking addition to my book.

"Of course, it's only rumour," she said.

"But many other historic objects have been found through similar rumours," I told her.

My father and I had been going through some old manuscripts, searching for more information on the War of the Ring (WR). Our findings eventually became a portion of the half-finished novel that we completed—The Red Book: The Lord of the Rings. Together we found many interesting writings that, once my father had translated, became a crucial part of understanding the culture during the WR. But it was I, alone, that found the greatest treasure of all (in my eyes).

After examining the whole of the Gondorian libraries, my father began to look about the ruined parts of the City. After all, the City is still one of the most important parts of Middle-Earth, no matter what one's species is. Intrigued as I was, I excused myself: I wanted to verify the old woman's story.

I found my way down to Rath Dínen, and kept going. The vocation of archaeology is not one to forsake because of one's personal superstitions.

I saw, at last, the enormous pyre legend attributes to the mad Steward of Gondor, Denethor, the father of the Last Steward, Prince Faramir of Ithilien. I felt a slight chill, as the story is well known in the Shire. But I forced myself to keep going.

It felt like a tomb—and it was. I looked about me and saw the corpses of Gondorian Kings long ago. I shut my eyes for a moment, trying to shake off the panic that overtook me. "There is nothing to fear," I told myself, but even my words sounded dead—as if the stagnant air had sucked the breath from them. But I had come for a purpose, and nothing stops the daughter of Ergil.

I found the bed of two Hobbits: no doubt two of my distant relatives, Meriadoc Brandybuck and Peregrin Took. I stared a moment at them, fascinated by the ancient styles they wore.

But between them lay my reason for venturing into a crypt. A Man's body, royally dressed. A star-pendant of diamond or crystal was around his neck on a silver chain, casting a silvery light around the room. A sword lay beside him, the famed Andûril, Flame of the West. On his chest was a little grey leather book, with Elvish script across the cover.

The sword and pendant I did not touch. I had no need of them, and they were the property of the long-dead King. But the book!

I reached for it, my fingers trembling in anticipation. I flipped through the pages, trying to translate the Sindarin using what my father had taught me, but the script was too ornate and the dialect to antiquated. I would leave it for my father to translate.

A sound from behind me startled me so that I almost dropped the book. Fortunately for every archaeologist in Middle Earth, I had been so excited that my first impulse was to clutch the book to my chest—such a fall would surely have destroyed the spine, and the fragile pages could not have withstood the dashing. I whirled around, half-expecting to find a skeletal man standing behind me. But it was only Father, come to find me.

"What does this say?" I asked him when I could breathe again, shoving the book into his hands.

He flipped through the pages and muttered to himself in Sindarin. Then he looked up at me. "You appear to have found a book written by Queen Arwen, daughter."

"Her journal?" I gasped.

"More of a memoirs, I think."

"I knew it!" I said, jumping up and down.

"So shall we return to the Shire and translate these?"

"Not yet," I said. "One more stop."

That stop was Edoras. Another legend said there was a hidden panel in one of the pillars of the court, and I was anxious to test if this were true.

It took a week and a half of searching, but, with the kind assistance of King Éorl II and Queen Gilrodel, we found it. In the pillar were many artefacts from long ago, including the autobiography of Princess Éowyn of Ithilien.

As I sat on the floor, covered in dust, flipping through the mouldy pages of the book I'd worked so hard to find, someone opened a door between the kitchen and the room I was in, and the room was filled with the savoury smells of dinner. My mouth watered, and I looked up at the Queen, who was standing over me, reading over my shoulder.

"Will you stay for a meal before returning to the Shire?" she asked, her grey eyes wet with happiness.

"Of course!" I said, standing up. Important as history is, the well-being of the historian must come first.

Here are the stories. I have entitled Arwen's journal Beyond the Circles of This World, and Éowyn's A Shield-Maiden of the North. Together they are An Elf and a Shield-Maiden.

I have translated the months from the original languages to the Common Tongue, so all will be able to understand. References to people, nicknames and such, are left in the original languages.