Author/Banshee Queen: "Okay everyone hello and good day. Or night, whichever time zone you are in right now. Anyway this is my little fanfic "Switching Bodies", the first one I have done since...actually I can't remember. The idea for this story came primarily from the movie Freaky Friday starring Jamie Lee Curtis and Lindsay Lohan (forgive me if I've spelt their names wrong), in my fanfic I've made Eowyn sort of 'shift' into Arwen's body and vice versa. The outcome is in my opinion hilarious, and I hope you guys come to share that point of view. Onwards story!"

Disclaimer: "I don't own the characters of Arwen, Eowyn, Aragorn, blah blah blah, you know the drill."

Switching Bodies

by Banshee Queen.

Chapter 1: I Want My Body Back!

"So what now?" Sighed Faramir exhaustedly as he was dragged along by Éowyn who had her arm wrapped around his.

"Over there!" She pointed excitedly, pale face lighting up with a smile.

The Prince of Ithilien groaned, knowing he'd have to endure at least another two hours of torture. Faramir, along with Aragorn, had both been dragged by their wives Éowyn and Arwen to Gondor's annual "Halloween Fair". Both men had enjoyed celebrating Halloween by holding the fair each year, but after the candy, costumes and lantern pumpkins had worn off, they were now both absolutely sick of the whole holiday.

This'll never end while the candy lasts. Thought Faramir pouting at a child smiling up at him.

"Arwen come on," whined Aragorn, forcibly dragging his feet to keep up with his wife, "we've been around three times already! Don't you think you've seen enough?"

"Yeah," seconded Faramir, trying desperately to pry his left hand out of Éowyn's before she cut off all circulation, "can't we just go have a beer?"

Éowyn stopped abruptly in mid stride and flashed her husband a dangerous glance.

"No! We are not stopping at any tavern any time soon! You promised you'd come to the fair this year Faramir."

Bloody men. Minds' always someplace else.

Aragorn's eyes widened suddenly as he looked over Arwen's shoulder at his friend.

"You promised? How could you?"

Faramir's face suddenly went scarlet as he adjusted the collar of his dress coat.

"Well…I, ah…Éowyn made me an offer I couldn't refuse."

Arwen frowned openly with disgust.

"Sick, real sick Faramir. And Éowyn? I am ashamed." She half mocked with disgust and humour.

The White lady unconsciously fixed her hair as she proceeded to drag her grinning husband along by the hand.

"Yes…well…our private lives are our private business, right honey?" She sang sweetly as she smiled at Faramir innocently.

"Right you are darling." He squeaked as she squeezed his hand tighter, cutting off all circulation.

Aragorn roared with laughter.

"You said that out aloud Faramir? You know that's certain death. Geez you really are as stupid as you look."

Both Éowyn and Arwen whipped their heads right to look at Aragorn.

"What? What did I say? What? What?" Questioned the Gondorian King innocently.

Over Éowyn's shoulder Faramir was laughing at him.

"Ha ha ha, friend," he pronounced the word as foreign and with a little sarcasm, "anyone to say that out aloud would most definitely have to be stupid and its not me!" He threw his head back with laughter.

"You're both just as stupid as one from the other!" Snapped Éowyn, and Arwen nodded approvingly.

Both men looked behind their wives backs and signaled toward each other; Aragorn held an invisible noose up around his neck and made a pulling gesture. Faramir chuckled quietly then quickly covered a hand over his mouth as if to cough when Éowyn shot another dangerous glance at him. Arwen saw what Aragorn had done and glared at her husband before haughtily correcting him.

"You should not say such things Melamin. It is not the proper way of a King."

Aragorn rolled his eyes and gritted his teeth. Looking past his 'perfect' wife, Aragorn saw Faramir pointing and silently laughing over Éowyn's shoulder. The golden haired beauty looked out of the corner eye and stomped down hard on her husband's foot. Faramir roared with pain as he hopped up and down on the spot, clutching his 'broken' foot. Aragorn at that moment however, doubled over clutching both sides, laughing and pointing hysterically at his friend who glared at him in pain. Fellow onlookers stared at the foursome, puzzled at their King's and Steward's odd behaviour. The Elf stared wildly about her, her search cut short once her eyes fell on her husband who abruptly stopped laughing and stood stiff-backed trying to look innocent. She frowned angrily at him before turning her eyes to look at Faramir who was grinning stupidly. Both woman dropped their husband's hands and stomped off in the direction of the nearby gypsy's tent Éowyn pointed out earlier on, dotted with silver stars against a sapphire background.

"Phew, that was close," said Faramir, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand, "we were almost turned into dog food."

"We weren't 'almost' turned into dog food, we are dog food." Hissed Aragorn grating his teeth together. Apparently the responsibilities of being and acting like Gondor's King had come back to him as he was slowly recovering his poise.

"What? Okay whatever man, I'm going to get a beer, you comin'?" Asked Faramir as he turned to go, but hit the silver breastplate of the King's rearguard, resulting in him falling flat on his bum. "What the?" He questioned as he brushed off the sleeves of his cream coloured dress coat.

"They're my rearguards," said Aragorn as he helped his friend up, "and trust me, they're not gonna' go away no matter what you do. I've tried and failed so don't even bother. You know how good I am at creeping up on people and creeping away from them."

Faramir nodded impatiently and sought to make his way past the guard, but the guard stepped in front of him.

"Umm, hello? Steward of Gondor here," he waved, trying to emphasize his point.

"I know very well who you are My Lord, but it's the Queen's orders." The square jawed fellow said, planting himself firmly in front of Faramir.

"Queen? What?" Frowned Faramir confusedly. "I'm not married to the Queen, that would be this guy right here," smiled the golden haired man clapping his friend manly-like on the shoulder, "so if you don't mind, I'll just-

The guard stepped in front of Faramir again as he tried to swerve around him.

"I know who you are married to My Lord, but its by the Queen's orders that I am not allowed to let either one of you, the King of Gondor or the Steward of Gondor, out of my sight and that you are to follow the Queen of Gondor and White Lady, wherever they wish."

"WHAT?" Shouted Aragorn and Faramir in unison.

So it's Arwen that calls the shots now huh? What about me? I'm the frickin' King around here.

Aragorn folded his arms crossly.

A few fellow onlookers looked at their King and Steward strangely. Aragorn lowered his voice before beginning;

"She said that?"

The guard raised an eyebrow at his King.

"I mean, the Queen said that?"

The guard nodded seriously.

"Great, this is just great!" Complained Faramir, throwing up both arms in the air.

"Well, I guess that kills just about any hopes of having a few beers to brighten up our day buddy."

Faramir looked upon his friend in horror.

"But you're the King! Don't you make the laws? Can't you do something?"

"Well I guess I-

"Aaah sire, the Queen also said to tell you that if you should change your mind…she…aah…well…"

"She what? Come on spit it out man! Out with it!" Ordered Aragorn impatiently, clearly annoyed at the fact that at this very moment he could be having a beer.

The guard stepped toward Aragorn and whispered something incoherent into his ear.

"You know at this very moment I could be having a nice cold beer Aragorn." Huffed Faramir, angrily folding his arms to prove his point.

Red spots suddenly bloomed on Aragorn's face who was clearing his throat noisily.

"Yes well, I think we will go follow the Queen and White Lady, if that's alright by you Beregrond."

The guard merely chuckled quietly and grinned at his King.

"As you say sire."

Aragorn quickly made his way toward the gypsy's tent.

"Whaa? What is he doing?" Questioned Faramir, looking suspiciously at the guard, and running after his friend. "What are you doing? I thought you were gonna' talk that guard into letting us go get a beer."

The King looked straight ahead, long strides outmatching his friend's by half.

"Hello? Beer to Aragorn? What did he say to you?"

Aragorn turned to face his friend, looking about them suspiciously and dropped his voice to a low whisper.

"She said if I was to ruin this day for her she'd turn off the tap!" He hissed irritably.

"Oh…" Faramir said dropping his eyes to the ground. "Okay I see your point."

They carried on toward the gypsy tent, Beregrond behind them smiling at their backs.

"It's a known fact that men can't live without s-

"Ssssshhhh! Aragorn hissed sharply as he clapped a hand over his friend's mouth. "Are you crazy? Talking like this in public? I could have your head for this Faramir," his friend looked at him limply, "never mind, let's just get to that damn tent before they have our heads." Groaned Aragorn, stalking away.

Upon reaching the gypsy's tent, both the King and Steward stopped dead in their tracks.

Aragorn looked at his friend.

"Aren't you going to go in?"

Faramir frowned at his friend.

"Well aren't you? You're leading the way after all."

"Beregrond, can't we just-

Before Aragorn could finish his sentence and Faramir begin his, Beregrond had pushed them both with effortless ease into the tent.

Faramir picked himself up from the ground.

"Is he even allowed to do that?" Questioned the Steward, brushing the dust off his sleeves once again.

Aragorn didn't reply, only stared at what was 'lying' in wait for both of them.

Sitting around a rounded table, Arwen, Éowyn, and a Southern looking gypsy woman laced in thick gold chains, dragging ragged skirts and a red bandana, all stared angrily at the two men before them.

"So glad you could make it." Piped Éowyn, unusually happy.

"Umm yeah, I'm just gonna' go get-

Started Faramir but was cut off by Aragorn who gently laid a hand on his shoulder and shook his head.

"Sires, please be seated." Requested the gypsy woman.

Both Faramir and Aragorn seated themselves on a wooden bench in synchronization near the tent flap. The two men took in her appearance. At first glance she looked no more than forty, but when they looked again she seemed years beyond that of their own mothers, had they lived today. Indeed she had a Southern look about her, olive skin darkened by days spent under the sun, dark eyes hardened by the years of the struggle for survival, and long dark hair knotted and frizzy gave away her heritage. A descended ant of the Haradrim perhaps?

"Gypsy woman, pray tell us your name?" Asked Aragorn, quite fascinated by the woman.

A warm smile spread from ear to ear before she answered. A kindly smile even, considering she was a gypsy.

"Marla."

"Marla," murmured Arwen deep in thought, "an interesting name by far."

Éowyn nodded in agreement.

All three seemed intrigued with the woman sitting before them except for Faramir who yawned and looked toward the entrance of the tent.

"Is there someplace else you should like to be Sire?" Asked Marla, casually flipping cards back and forth from Arwen and Éowyn's pile.

Both women twisted in their purple-velvet-covered-chairs to look back at Faramir. Aragorn frowned at his friend and elbowed him hard in the arm.

"Way to go Far," whispered Aragorn turning his gaze back to the gypsy woman.

"And you too Aragorn son of Arathorn."

Both Arwen and Aragorn stared open mouthed at the gypsy woman, but she merely laughed it off.

"You do not think that a simple woman such as I would not know the true name and lineage of both Gondor and Arnor's King now would you?"

The King suddenly felt ten inches tall and wanted to hide his face.

Of course.

How stupid of him.

"Go on Sires, I won't be offended."

"Well, if you put it that way Marla," Faramir said her name enthusiastically as he tightened his belt, "come along Aragorn, we've got some unfinished business to attend to."

"Oh I'm sure you do." Mocked Arwen, rolling her eyes over the comment.

Both Faramir and Aragorn stood and kissed their partners, murmuring affectionate words to each of them.

"If you need me I'll be with the council in the Citadel." Said Faramir into Éowyn's ear. A large smile lit up Éowyn's face. She knew her husband too well.

"Don't you mean having a pint with Aragorn?"

The golden haired man grinned mischievously, and then said;

"Yeah one or the other."

The couple both smiled and leaned towards each other for a kiss.

"If you need to find me I'll be with the council in the Citadel Melamin." Said Aragorn bending by Arwen's ear, voice almost inaudible to the others.

"Don't you mean having a pint with your friend Faramir over there?" She half laughed, gestured to Faramir.

A debonair smile reached the King's lips.

"Yes one or the other."

Both Elf and mortal smiled at each other as they're lips met with a soft kiss.

"Come on Aragorn!" Whined Faramir, hands placed haughtily on his hips. "I want a beer now!"

"In a minute alright?" Replied his friend. "Just give me a little more time here." The King leaned in close to Arwen's ear before whispering; "And where and when will I see you Arwenamin?"

The Elf looked up at her husband seriously before breaking into a giggle. She leaned into her husband's ear.

"In our bedchamber, tonight dear husband."

Aragorn stood upright and loosened the collar of his dark blue dress coat a little. The King beamed with admiration. Of late she had been 'expressing' her love for him more and more and each day he was always left wondering what her next move would be. He merely nodded and with a smile strode out of the tent with Faramir at his heels muttering a low; "Finally!"

Marla smiled and shook her head.

"Well now that our 'distractions' have left, would you like your fortunes told My Lady's?"

Before Arwen could even answer a 'yes', Éowyn broke in before her.

"What is that in the corner over there?" She questioned, puzzled at what was blinking at her furiously.

The gypsy lady twisted around in her chair and reached for a pallet behind her. When she set it on the table, both woman gave a small gasp. Encrusted within a silver band sat one sapphire ring and one white diamond ring.

"There is a story which goes with these pretties my dears." Said Marla gesturing towards the rings, though her tone suggested that there was something behind that.

"Oh skip the story," said Éowyn waving her hand for emphasis, "I'm sure nothing bad could ever happen by putting on a couple of pretty rings."

The gypsy woman rose an eyebrow clearly unconvinced.

"My Lady, before you do something such as that, I think you should hear the story."

Éowyn nodded and both women leaned forward intently.

"Some say it is just a myth or tale that these rings we see before us are cursed," Éowyn and Arwen glanced at each nervously, "but I think the folk who passed down this story were foolish to even suggest such a thing."

Both woman smiled at each other and held each other's hand tightly. Marla's face became grave and serious as she began again.

"Long ago in the Second Age when Sauron first seduced the Elven-smiths of Eregion into forging the rings of power, there were two others that Sauron himself made which the Elves had no knowledge of. These two that he made were shape-shifters and allowed him to shift from one form to another. Already wearing one of these, he would slip the other ring onto the other person's finger and by doing so, shift forms. Of course the other person would not have refused for fear of his wrath, but in this way he was able to escape and outsmart his adversaries until in the year 3262 when the Númenóreans came to make war on him, he surrendered for so great was their power. But by surrendering, he paid a price. His precious rings were taken from him, and he was sundered from them forever."

Marla looked at both woman, who sat undeterred at the fact that they wanted those rings on their fingers.

"My Lady's, I am unsure that this is a good id-

"Nonsense," reassured Arwen, reaching out for the white diamond ring, "it will be fine Marla."

Éowyn reached for the sapphire and slipped it on her finger.

"Oooo its so beautiful!" Cooed the White Lady.

But before Arwen had time to repeat her comment, a sudden squall shook the foundations of the tent. All three woman hit the ground as a huge gust of wind whipped their hair and garments wildly, Marla's belongings rolling, flying here and there. Dust stung their eyes and stained their dresses, covering everything in a thin layer of brown. They did not know how long they had lain there in silence waiting for the winds to die down, but when they opened their eyes, everything in the tent was askew.

Both Arwen and Éowyn picked themselves up from the ground and busied themselves with brushing off the front of their dresses. However, when they rose their eyes to look at each other, they both frowned.

"You-

Éowyn cut off, puzzled at why she was looking at herself on the other side of the table.

"And you-

Arwen cut off too, pointing at herself with the same look of bewilderment as to why she was seeing herself frown back at herself on the other side of the table.

At that moment both woman's eyes flickered down at their right hands and they realized something was amiss…

Éowyn had slipped on the sapphire ring…

…whereas Arwen had slipped on the white diamond…

Two high pitched woman's screams were heard from inside the tent as it dragged on to end in a sudden yelp.

Beregrond leapt into the tent, the hilt of his sword ready in his right hand, dark eyes darting here and there to the source of the trouble.

"What is wrong, My Lady's? I heard you both scream." He inquired.

"N-n-n-nothing is wrong Beregrond, go back to your post."

The guard frowned at Éowyn, wondering why all of a sudden it was she who was giving out the orders and not the Queen of Gondor. He looked toward Arwen for some sign of an order. Éowyn narrowed her eyes at Arwen, silently urging her to answer.

"Yes go back to your post Beregrond, we have no need of you." Answered the Elf, still catching her breath.

The guard frowned slightly, then marched back outside to his post.

"You're in my body!" Screamed Arwen.

"And you're in mine!" Screamed Éowyn.

"Now look what happened!" Roared the gypsy woman. "I told you it was not a good idea to put those rings on but you did not listen to me!"

Both Arwen and Éowyn whipped their heads left to look at Marla and rounded on her.

"You! You did not warn us this would happen!" Screamed Arwen, flipping her golden wavy hair out of her face.

"You did not give me enough time to point that out!" Retaliated Marla, one hand pointed at both of them like a pistol, the other planted firmly on her broad hips.

"What are we going to do?" Moaned Éowyn, sinking down into a chair, dark hair curtaining her face.

Arwen looked over at her friend, now slumped in her chair. Did she really look like such a sulk as Aragorn had said when something did not go her own way? No, Aragorn was just over-reacting. But then again he was right when he said she pouted adorably…She stalked towards Éowyn and pulled her out of the chair.

"Pull yourself together woman! We are going to get out of this! Stop acting like a girl and start acting like the Queen of Gondor for Valar's sake! You're making me look like a fool!"

Éowyn grimaced, looking at her body out through Arwen's eyes. Was this what she really looked like when she was mad? Faramir was right when he said he could see the 'ice-like fire' in her eyes when she was fuming. She shook her head and thought back to Arwen's last comment. Anger boiled inside of her like the Cracks of Doom, had they still existed to this day.

"I am the Queen of Gondor!" Yelled Éowyn, pointing a finger to her busty chest. "You are just the White Lady of Ithilien, so don't tell me how to act girl!"

Hang on, had she just said that? Put Arwen's title above her own? Calling herself the Queen of Gondor? And degrading the title of the 'White Lady of Ithilien' which was her! Labelling Arwen 'girl'. The Elf was nearly three thousand years older than her! This thing was really taking its toll on her mind.

On the other side of the table, Marla laughed softly. To her it was absolutely hilarious seeing the White Lady of Ithilien insult herself like that, knowing she was trapped in that curvy and hour glass figure and in the thin and slender body there was the Queen of Gondor looking out through Éowyn's eyes at bodily version of herself.

"Look at me!" Yelled Éowyn, jutting out her chest, "my breasts are enormous! These things are in my way every time I try to move!" She hopped up and down on the spot just to prove her point. "And these hips? It's a wonder you haven't had children yet! I'll bet the distance you could cover over these things is akin to the distance it takes to get from here to Valinor!"

"Hey!" Arwen pointed her finger at Éowyn like a pistol. "I like my body so don't bag it! Do you think I like being stuck inside of this thing?" She ran her gaze from the top of her cleavage (the little that she had), to the ends of her feet. "You can barely even call this thing a rack! You're so flat-chested! And these limbs?" She waved her arms about in front of her to prove her point. "They're practically skin and bones! Not to mention this hair!" She spat a strand of long blonde hair out of her mouth before speaking again. "Every time I open my mouth I get a whole hairball of it! I'm so surprised you haven't morphed into a cat yet!"

"Hey!" This time it was Éowyn who pointed her finger like a pistol at Arwen. "I like my body so don't bag it!"

"Sorry, I didn't mean it." Mumbled the golden haired woman.

Arwen stared at herself sitting down in that chair. Those sapphire eyes could lure and fool anyone had she wished to. Now she knew what Aragorn was talking about, saying that himself and no one else for that matter could not say no to those dreamy pools she called eyes. And now that she thought about it, she did look a little on the 'big' side. And damn! Wasn't Éowyn right for once, her hips were a little on the large side. But she was happy with her body and that was all that mattered.

"I'm sorry too." Mumbled Éowyn, wiping away a strand of chocolate brown hair out of her face.

Éowyn took a good long look at herself. Faramir was right when he said she looked like a stubborn mule when she didn't get her way or had just recently apologized to someone. And to think of it, she was a little on the thin side. Éomer had always said so, but she always brushed it off. And maybe she did need a trim after all, Arwen did seem to be spitting her hair out every two seconds. And maybe, just maybe eating a little more at meals times wouldn't hurt.

Éowyn sighed, curling her fingers around her dark hair.

"What are we going to do then?"

"Stop that!" Squawked Arwen making her way over to Éowyn and slapping her hand away from her hair. "You'll give me split ends. That's why you have so many of them." She said as she waved a fistful of golden hair in her hand.

"Really? You can?" Questioned Éowyn, for once intrigued about something to do with beauty.

"Yes. Now, what are we going to do?"

They both turned to Marla who was picking up a few stray pieces of paper.

"My Lady's? Is there something you want?"

Éowyn opened her mouth in a perfect O', shocked at the woman's question.

"We want our bodies back!" Screamed Éowyn, marching toward the woman, her sapphire eyes alight with anger.

"My Queen?"

Arwen clapped a hand over Éowyn's mouth. A little too hard by the sound of it because she saw 'herself' grab onto the nearest chair with a small wince.

Beregrond poked his head through the tent flap warily and looked about the place. On the other side of the room Marla put on a fake smile, he ignored her and turned his eyes to the right where he could see the White Lady with a hand over the Queen's mouth. Judging by the way the Queen held onto the nearest chair as if clinging to dear life, something bad must've happened. The guard frowned at Éowyn, and she suddenly dropped her hand back against her dress in surprise.

"Is everything all right My Lady?" He inquired, suspiciously eyeing the other two women.

"Everything is fine Beregrond, what may you be wanting?"

The guard straightened and entered the tent fully.

"I have just been informed that King Elessar and the Steward of Gondor both request your presence at once in the Citadel."

"In the Citadel?" Éowyn stared out through Arwen's eyes, bug eyed.

Beregrond frowned at his Queen, growing a little indignant at his Queen's mysterious behaviour. She was not acting herself.

"Yes my Queen. The cooks shall be serving the evening meal soon and I thought-

"No matter Beregrond, we will be there."

The guard turned his head to look at the White Lady striding forward, linking arms with the Queen and hurriedly making their way out. Was it the White Lady of Ithilien who gave the orders now?

"What are you doing?" Questioned Éowyn through gritted teeth.

"We are getting out of here that's what!" Stated Arwen, clearly on a roll. But on a roll to what Éowyn wondered.

"Are you crazy?" Questioned Éowyn, blue eyes darting here and there at the small crowd of people who were now staring at the pair, "What are we going to do at suppertime? Aragorn and Faramir are not stupid men." Said the White Lady as she yanked Arwen's arm from 'her' icy grip.

Oww. Faramir was right when he said her grip was like a vice.

"I know they're not stupid men." Hissed Arwen, lowering her voice. "I'll just have to act like you normally would and you, like me."

"What?" Growled Éowyn gathering her skirts in hand and nearly tripping over them in the process whilst running after her friend. After three steps however she gave up trying to hurry after Arwen, her breasts really were a pain and 'jumped' every time she lifted a foot to run. After much groaning the White Lady caught up to her friend. "Me? Act like you? I'm not gonna' be all over Aragorn no matter what you say!"

Arwen stopped dead in her tracks and turned to look at her friend.

"I didn't ask you to 'be all over Aragorn' you fool, and even if you did, I'd knock some sense into your hobbit sized brain!" Arwen shouted.

"Oh I'm sure you would." The White Lady huffed, planting Arwen's pale hands on her broad hips.

Suddenly Arwen froze, but after a moment she drew herself up to her full height and glared at a few fellow Gondorians who were again staring at them. Why wouldn't their Queen want to kiss their King? And why would the White Lady of Ithilien 'knock some sense' into their Queen's 'hobbit sized brain' if she were to kiss their King? Strange, but it almost seemed as though the White Lady of Ithilien was acting as though their Queen normally would, and vice versa.

"Look," began Arwen in a serious tone, "I don't like this either, but if we're going to be stuck in each other's bodies' for Valar knows how long, we might as well act like each other. Because lets face it, people are gonna' start wondering why we're acting strange and out of the normal."

Éowyn pouted, then after a moment sighed and drooped her head. "I guess you're right."

There was a moment's silence between the two, and when Éowyn rose her eyes to look at Arwen she found 'herself' looking back at her. She smiled.

"Let's do it then."

Arwen smiled back at her, and linking arms they slowly made their way up the seven levels of Minas Tirith, heedless of the peculiar looks people were giving them.