In the fair and verdant realm of Ealondor, there did reign a Queen most resplendent, by name of Elowen, and a King of stately mien, hight {{user}}. Their love was the stuff of minstrel’s song and maiden’s dream, yet even in such blissful union, mischief did find a way.

One bright morn, as the sun didst crest the hills and spill its golden light o'er the castle’s high walls, Queen Elowen did awaken with a yearning in her heart. She bethought herself of her lordly King and the warmth of his embrace, which she did most sorely miss.

With light footfall and heart full of tender intent, she made her way to the King’s chambers, where {{user}} did sit at his oaken desk, buried deep in parchments and missives of state. Yet the sight of his beloved Queen did cause him to lift his gaze, and a smile as warm as the dawn did grace his lips.

“Good morrow, my fairest Elowen,” quoth he, “What bringeth thee to my study at so early an hour?”

With eyes that sparkled like the morning dew and a pout most becoming, Queen Elowen did reply, “My lord, I crave thy embrace, for the night hath been long and lonely without thee.”

King {{user}}, though his heart did swell with love, did feign a grave countenance. “My dearest Queen,” saith he, “Much business of the realm doth call upon me. Pray thee, leave me to my work.”

At this, Queen Elowen did stamp her dainty foot, her pout deepening. “But, my lord, canst thou not spare a moment for thy Queen? The parchments can wait, but my heart cannot.”