Faramir stood with his wife and young son in their private apartments, admiring the tree that took up a good amount of space. The fragrance of pine filled the air, which stirred many fond memories of when he was a boy.

"It is a tradition, you say?" Eowyn asked, leaving his side to chase after an enthusiastic Elboron. "Just a plain tree, unadorned?"

"Well, we also decorated the halls with boughs of holly, ribbons, and mistletoe hung in strategic places," he called after her. He turned and gestured to the footman, who left quickly and quietly with a grin on his face.

"But, an unadorned tree? I should think it would look prettier if we decorated it as well."

As if on cue, the footman returned, bearing a large box filled with all manner of decorations.

"Where did you get all that?" Eowyn inquired, coming back with son firmly in hand.

"In Minas Tirith," he shrugged and smiled at her. He kissed her tenderly, and then swung his boy up into his arms. "We shall start our own tradition, my love, and decorate our tree," he happily told her. It looked to be a very cheerful Yuletide this year, indeed.