"She was very beautiful," Èowyn says quietly and with an edge of sadness, for it is true that they both know the grief of losing a mother to such soul sickness. And yet, her mind is abuzz with speculation, still reeling a little over the fact that Faramir had chosen to grant his mother's cloak for her to wear. It feels too intimate a gift, such an heirloom.
Faramir's hesitant addition confirms it. A lover's gift, then. Her cheeks tint with some color at the implication, some knot of emotion lodging behind her breastbone she finds difficult to untangle.
"Surely, my lord, your mother's mantle is too fine and precious a thing for me to wear like this." She bites her lip. How clumsy her tongue suddenly is! She does not wish to appear ungrateful, but... "Is there no Gondorian lady who might bear it?"
To her dread, she realizes she'd just asked him none too subtly if he was affianced. For a moment, she wishes the stones beneath her feet would open up and swallow her, save her from the mortification of her blunder. But just as swiftly, some of her old stubborn determination sparks in her; no, she would not take it back, but weather it as she must.
glad you like it! C:
Faramir's hesitant addition confirms it. A lover's gift, then. Her cheeks tint with some color at the implication, some knot of emotion lodging behind her breastbone she finds difficult to untangle.
"Surely, my lord, your mother's mantle is too fine and precious a thing for me to wear like this." She bites her lip. How clumsy her tongue suddenly is! She does not wish to appear ungrateful, but... "Is there no Gondorian lady who might bear it?"
To her dread, she realizes she'd just asked him none too subtly if he was affianced. For a moment, she wishes the stones beneath her feet would open up and swallow her, save her from the mortification of her blunder. But just as swiftly, some of her old stubborn determination sparks in her; no, she would not take it back, but weather it as she must.