Freedom. Such a simple wish Éowyn had.

Long she hoped, even begged, for what she desired. Yet she could not find it on the vast plains of her homeland, nor in her naïve illusion of love, nor by an honourable death in battle.

But now Éowyn stands on the walls of the City of Kings, clothed in a starry blue mantle. And Faramir stands beside her, her delicate hand in his rough one, watching the darkness vanish forever. Éowyn meets his gaze and kisses him lightly, grateful for the joy that she has found.

And she has found freedom indeed.