I don't own LotR
The next spring, Wyniel and Boromir were expecting a child. Wyniel's activities had been reduced, so instead of cavorting around the Hall and its many gardens playing war games with Faramir, she strolled by his side. A special couch was brought to Faramir's archery yard, where Wyniel could gaze on, glancing at a book now and then, but mostly reclining in the sunlight and complimenting Faramir on his accuracy.
"What will you name the baby, then?" Faramir asked. He was very much intrigued in the mysteries of pregnancies, and could be seen rubbing Wyniel's ever-rounding stomach between quivers.
"Ecthelion if it's a boy, like your grandfather."
Faramir smiled. He had heard many great stories of his grandfather, and their impact had been just the same on Wyniel.
"And if it's a girl?" he asked.
"I don't know yet. I would name her Finduilas but for your father. He would be terribly upset, I think."
Faramir nodded. There had been little more confrontations between Denethor and his sons, but hostility still existed when Wyniel was in the picture. She had long been used to it, but with her pregnancy, Denethor seemed even more bitter. Nevertheless, Wyniel stayed optimistic, as always, and enjoyed the company of all others rather than Denethor.