A/N: As promised, here is the fifth chapter of 'A Gift of A Gentle Heart'. There's probably another 2 or 3 chapters to go after this before I finish with a possible sequel after that (depending on what people think ofthis fic!).Once again, thank you to everyone for reviewing and I am glad to know that, for the most part, you are enjoying this fanfiction.

One or two people have commented on the fact that I made Faramir look more like hisfilm counterpart than Tolkien's original and this is indeed true. Whilst I like Tolkien's dark-haired Faramir, I felt that thefilms were excellently cast, particulary with regards to Faramir and Eowyn, and so I have used the possibly more recognisable film-likenesses for this story. However, feel free to imagine Faramir as you see fit!

Again, a disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters as they all belong to the Tolkien family and to New Line Cinema. I'm just borrowing them for a while as they are so much fun.

Once again, please r and r as reviews are the lifeblood of fanfiction authors! - Emeraldstargazer -


V: The Gift of A Gentle Heart

Faramir did not see Éowyn the next day, as she kept to her rooms. Nor did he see her the day after that as he was beset by Beregond who came to talk matters of state with him. As the days slipped by he worried if he had offended her in some way or whether he had been too forward with his words or actions. As Éowyn herself had said, whilst they yet lived under the Shadow it was inappropriate to speak of beauty, even if what was said was in kindness and love. And yet he could not imagine an ill day when he was with her, for to him she was sunshine itself and he missed their long talks in the silent days that followed. Seeking a reason to go and see her, Faramir recalled Éowyn's lack of a mantle and asked one of the healers if she could find one for the Shieldmaiden.

"I'm afraid we haven't got any winter cloaks to spare my lord," the healer replied, nervously. "We sent most of our supplies off with the army – or gave them to the homeless of the city after the siege."

"A noble cause" Faramir agreed, "though I would not have our royal guest from Rohan go cold. I think there must be some cloaks within my mother's wardrobe in the Steward's quarters"

The healer looked up quickly. Faramir could understand her surprise – his mother's room had not been opened since her death when Denethor had sealed it and refused anyone entry. Faramir presumed that all of his mother's things had remained in the room since then.

"I…I can certainly go and look my lord, if you wish it," the healer replied.

"Thank you" Faramir replied, "I think that Beregond has the keys to the Steward's quarters in my absence. If you find a suitable mantle please take it to the Lady Éowyn, with my compliments."

"As you wish my lord," the healer replied, curtsying briefly before leaving.


The wind swept through Éowyn's hair as she stood upon the walls of Minas Tirith. The sun was setting, darkness falling across the countryside. The city was empty and silent, not a voice nor a footstep disturbing the evening's hush.

Away in the East, a faint glow of fire red was a grim reminder of Sauron's unwavering presence, a visible monument to a nameless fear. Watching the gathering gloom, Éowyn could see why Gondorians hurried to what remained of their homes at twilight, for the darkness of Mordor appeared almost to reach out and touch the city as the evening's shadow lengthened. Yet still she enjoyed the evening's hush and looked forward to the serenity of the twilight hours when she could walk abroad without seeing another soul. Looking out from the wall, her thoughts turned to Eomer and Aragorn and the company who had ridden to their doom along with him and once again wished fervently for her brother's safe return.

She wished also that Aragorn would come back safe and well; to return a King to this citadel, but she found without surprise that it no longer pained her that she would never be his Queen. The White City had great beauty but it was harsh and cold and magnificent, and she could no more rule it than she could live within it. For Aragorn, Minas Tirith was his destiny but for Éowyn it was little more than a cage, a million miles away from the rolling plains she loved so much. No, Éowyn mused, she did not love Aragorn, not as a Queen should love a King. She loved him yes, but it was a different kind of love though she could not yet give it name.

A soft footfall tore Éowyn from her musings and, turning her head, she saw Faramir walking towards her with obvious intent. Despite herself, her heart lightened at the sight of him. In the last few days she had been intentionally avoiding the steward but she had missed their conversations more than she had ever imagined and had been meaning to apologise for her recent brusqueness when she next saw him. The young steward offered her a smile as he approached which she automatically returned, with deliberate warmth.

"I would have thought it too cold for you to be walking abroad this evening Éowyn," Faramir stated.

The last rays of sunlight played gently across the steward's youthful face as he spoke; taking away the lines of war and worry that had aged him and making Éowyn see, quite to her surprise, how handsome Faramir could be considered.

"I like the peace of the evening" Éowyn replied lightly, "and I can suffer some discomfort to enjoy it. Looking from these walls at twilight makes me almost forget the trials we suffer at present."

Faramir glanced across to the view from the wall – the last rays of sunlight gently filtering across the fields of the Pelannor, the first of the evening's stars in the sky – and nodded, also appreciative of the view.

"It will be a beautiful night" he murmured gently, "But it is a cloudless sky and I think, my lady, that you will feel the cold more than you anticipate."

Éowyn smiled at the slight note of jest within his tone, "Despite what you think my lord, I am not some spring flower that wilts before a frost."

"I would never consider you as such, Éowyn" Faramir replied gently, "Though your beauty rivals that of all the flowers in the Gondor."

Seeing her blush, the Steward flushed deeply before hastily continuing, "But the warden considers you not yet fully well despite your protestations and so, I would give you a gift to keep you warm on these cold evenings."

Éowyn hadn't seen the cloak that Faramir had previously held over his arm for it was the same deep blue as the gathering midnight sky: the very colour of the night. She gasped as he unfurled the cloth and saw that, interwoven with the rich velvet were the stars themselves – gossamer threads of silver that caught the last rays of the evening sun and shone like the night sky. As a Lady of Rohan Éowyn had seen many beautiful things, though she had always treasured fine weaponry over fine dresses in Meduseld, however she had never seen such a beautiful object in her life before.

Clearly the cloak had been crafted with much love for its previous owner and she could hazard a guess at who that owner had been. She looked to Faramir for confirmation, meeting his eyes – eyes that held a faint glimmer of amusement at her wonder and a deeper, more hidden emotion that Éowyn only dared to dream of – and received a nod of affirmation in response to her unspoken question.

"It was my mothers" he explained gently, "Made for her by my father's craftsmen as a gift to her upon their wedding. It is crafted in the style of Dol Amroth, for that was her home and he wished to give her something to remind her of that when she was locked within these walls and far from the sight of her homeland."

"I…I cannot receive this gift," Éowyn stumbled, after a pause, "It…it is too great a thing for you to give Faramir."

Faramir shook his head and placed the cloak around her shoulders. The fabric was lighter than she had anticipated and it held unexpected warmth, which took the chill of the evening from her shoulders.

"Would you refuse a gift given in kindness Éowyn?" Faramir asked, gently. "It would do me a great honour if you would wear this cloak for you have my mother's spirit and I have never before met a woman for whom this cloak has seemed so fitting a gift."

Overwhelmed, Éowyn nodded and let the cloak's weight settle upon her shoulders more easily. "Then I thank you my lord, with all my heart. I shall be proud to wear this gift."

Faramir smiled gently, his eyes sparkling with a light she had never seen in them before which reflected the light of the newly risen moon and yet still sparkled with the faint glow of the evening's sun. Then he bowed low to her in the courtly style of the city.

"Then, having succeeded in my errand, I shall leave you to watch the sunset my lady knowing that you can do so without causing further ailment."

With an almost too swift turn and a gentle flush to his pale skin, Faramir retreated back the way he had come, a shadow amongst shadows. She could barely hear his footfalls on the grass as he went, another sign of the young Steward's life as a Ranger. Another sign that beneath the peaceable exterior was a man who could rival Gondorian skill and courage. A fair match for a Shieldmaiden of Rohan. It was then, watching his retreating shadow and with his mother's cloak resting where he had placed it upon her shoulders that Éowyn of Rohan finally realised where her heart lay.