"I think so, as well. Possibly that was one reason, and also the passing of my mother at such an early age. The loss of a child should trouble any parent, I imagine. Perhaps she also missed Thengel, who died some fifteen years ere my own birth."
She takes one last, long look at Morwen's painting, before the other ones lined up on the walls beckon, her curiosity aroused. Èowyn moves slowly, studying more noble faces and heads of dark hair-- sons and daughters of Gondor, of Dol Amroth, captured in paint. But then Èowyn stops in front of another painting, much like that of Morwen's, her breath catching a little.
For it is a painting of a beautiful lady of near elven grace, dark-haired and smiling gently-- and wearing the same midnight blue mantle on her shoulders that now rests upon Èowyn's. For certainly, there can be no mistaking the glorious garment. There's a familiarity in the lady's features, and instinctively she knows.
"Is this your mother?" she asks a little breathlessly, eyes still peeled on the painting. And what she really wants to ask is: Am I wearing her mantle?
welp, here goes! :3
Date: 2018-09-10 04:15 pm (UTC)She takes one last, long look at Morwen's painting, before the other ones lined up on the walls beckon, her curiosity aroused. Èowyn moves slowly, studying more noble faces and heads of dark hair-- sons and daughters of Gondor, of Dol Amroth, captured in paint. But then Èowyn stops in front of another painting, much like that of Morwen's, her breath catching a little.
For it is a painting of a beautiful lady of near elven grace, dark-haired and smiling gently-- and wearing the same midnight blue mantle on her shoulders that now rests upon Èowyn's. For certainly, there can be no mistaking the glorious garment. There's a familiarity in the lady's features, and instinctively she knows.
"Is this your mother?" she asks a little breathlessly, eyes still peeled on the painting. And what she really wants to ask is: Am I wearing her mantle?