'Hmm…'tis pretty,' Boromir said, sounding rather bored.
'I am glad that you think so, Boromir.' Denethor could hardly keep amusement from his voice. Finduilas laughed softly and kissed the top of their eldest's head.
'And you, my dear?' she asked Faramir, picking him up. 'Do you think your father's gift is pretty?'
'Not always,' he said thoughtfully.
Denethor looked interested. 'Not always?'
Faramir looked straight at him. 'It's only pretty when it's on Mother,' he explained.
There was a merry twinkle in the Steward's eye.
'Aye, child,' he said, his gaze upon his wife. 'That, I agree with.'