A year had passed since their marriage and less than four months since Eowyn had given birth to the child not of Faramir's line, yet as he sat by the bed each morning, watching her sleep, often with the infant tucked in beside her, he could not help but wonder how he could love her more with each passing day.
And though he would not admit it, he was captivated by the half-Elven child she had borne. Though there was much of his Sire in him, the baby was still his mother's son and Faramir found himself loving every pale hair on the downy little head.
Rising from his chair, he slipped out of the bedroom, leaving mother and son warmly tucked beneath the blankets, and quickly went to one of his chests, opening it and withdrawing a cloth-wrapped bundle.
Taking it to the table in the middle of the room, he opened it carefully, trying his utmost not to make a sound, as the belt unravelled and the buckle clanked on the layer of cloth he had unfolded.
It was probably an entirely sentimental gesture he knew, as Eowyn still held great affection for the armour and blade she had carried into battle only a few years earlier, but he had longed for something to give her that she might like.
Unlike every other woman he had met, he knew jewellery and gowns were trite gestures, indicators that though he admired her and wished her to be beautiful, they were not signs that he knew her.
So, several weeks before their anniversary, he had quietly approached the blacksmith who tended to all of the Royal armour and weaponry. Yesterday, the bundle had arrived discreetly and now, before Eowyn woke, he took a chance to examine the work done for him.
The sword was lighter than most Gondorian blades, yet still strong and heavy enough to serve well in a battle, more a cavalry sword than infantry. The grip was broad, the decoration of the pommel a combination of Rohir and Gondorian decoration.
Even the sheath was clearly the work of a Master, the tip capped with silver and faint patterns of running horses and Gondorian stars were embossed the length of the dark leather.
Sheathing the blade, Faramir carefully re-wrapped it, placing it on the table where Eowyn would find it, then made for the door and the first of the Counsel meetings that day, content in the knowledge that even if she never used the blade, the sword was a gift she would - even if just a little - appreciate.