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TolkienScribe's Scribblings  by TolkienScribe


"… Over all the Lady Éowyn wore a great blue mantle of the colour of deep summer-night, and it was set with the silver stars about hem and throat."

"The mantle was wrought for his mother, Finduilas of Amroth, who died untimely, and was to him but a memory of loveliness in far days and of his first grief…"

(Return of the King: The Steward and the King)

Faramir's deeds called for a celebration.

His Rangers caught the secret plans of the enemy, and his swift response not only brought victory to Gondor but annihilated the battalion that dared to step inside the borders. The men returned to Minas Tirith singing his praises and recounting the tale to all those who listened.

Denethor listened quietly, as was his wont, but there was no doubt the Steward was proud of his son's feat. A feast was held in his honour and when it broke, he let his son go to celebrate with his men.

In the evening, before Faramir left with his comrades for merrymaking, Denethor called his son to his chambers. When Faramir entered, he found a small chest waiting for him on a table beside Denethor's chair. His father opened it, swept away the wrappings and pulled from it a mantle as dark as night and with embroidery resembling the stars. Upon a woman, it would look as if the heavens themselves draped around her.

"It belonged to your mother," Denethor said. The mantle flowed and fell on the folds upon the ground as he held it up for Faramir to see. "Take this as my gift to you. You have your name and honour, and your men to do your bidding. May a time come that you find a woman to love as I loved your mother." Faramir looked at his father and caught a rare glimpse of emotion on his father's face; sorrow and grief. "And may she never leave your side as early as your mother left mine."

Faramir reached out and touched the mantle reverently. His fingers were rough from deeds on the battlefield, but the mantle was as soft as he remembered from his childhood. The silver was untarnished, and he caught the faint scent of his mother's perfume still clinging to the mantle. He smiled.

"You have given me a rich gift, father."

"And one I know you will treasure. Keep it safe until you find the lady worthy for it."

Faramir returned the mantle to its chest and wrappings. He set it in his room among his most prized items. There was no lady in his life. But if there was, then he would bestow this as a gift upon her.

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