Book/Source: TTT, backstory
Warning: het, desired anyway.
Disclaimer: a brief benign avocational fiction.
Her hair shimmers gold at the edge of his vision; her face glimmers pale in his dreams. But her eyes are warm only when they light on the King, or upon her meaty kinsmen; he cannot hope to match their deeds of brawn when his skills lie elsewhere, in deftness of mind and tongue their people misprize.
So he hopes and despairs, he dreams and burns, and finally he decides. He knows of no way to turn her eyes to him, but his knowledge is finite; a wizard's is not. Perhaps the master of Orthanc will aid a supplicant?