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A grim smile came to Rowenna's lips as she continued to scrub. To be told by a mere boy that one is not making sense was ironic. And of course it would appear that way to Javan. He did not understand how a moment - or many moments strung together without quarter - could change one with no going back. She did not mourn the change, for the last two years had made her strong of will and of mind in a way that could not have happened otherwise, except perhaps after many years. In a way she felt old. But she had thought of a way to explain it to Javan.
"Everyone is a slave, no matter how free. Even King Eomer may not do certain things, such as murder his queen, or forsake the Eorling vassalage to Gondor, or he will face the consequences. Everyone is a slave. You Javan are also a slave: is there not someone you dare not cross?
"And you are not making sense. If I am the murderess you say, then I cannot be "better than that", as you put it."
She was testing him, to see how much capacity for thought lay behind those sparkling eyes. He was too young to understand, of course, but she dared to hope that she might be surprised.
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