I don't own LotR
For the next year Boromir tried to put Wyniel out of his mind, but to no avail. When his exercise and history lessons were interrupted with the memory of her laughter, Boromir would go crazy trying to resist the urge to travel once again to the second level. He would constantly draft excuses for him to leave his father's hall, until finally he struck out in the early morning before breakfast and without his father's consent for the Hasunder's house.
The road was uncluttered and it took very little time for Boromir to criss-cross his way down the hill of the great city. Just as the sun rose he stood panting before the door, under the wooden sign that showed a needle and thread. As soon as he knocked, Boromir realized he had nothing that needed mending, so he bent to tear the hem of his tunic.
"Oh, hello." Wyniel had just rounded the corner carrying a heavily loaded bucket of water that sloshed gently with her steps.
Straightening himself and blushing, Boromir gazed at the young woman who had seemed to blossom in the past year. Her brown hair blew lightly in the wind and her velvet eyes glistened in the gleam of the early morning.
"I- I seem to have…" Boromir began.
"Torn your tunic, well, come on in and I'll have a look." she flashed him a warm smile and sidled past on her way to the door.
"Oh, where are my manners? Let me carry that." Boromir took the bucket from Wyniel's hand.
"So polite, I appreciate it." Wyniel responded, throwing open the thin curtains to the shop. Settling herself on a low stool she directed Boromir to approach. He stood awkwardly while Wyniel handled the wool and measured the damage done.
"I remember you." she stated simply with a needle between her teeth. "You were here last fall with your little brother. Don't worry, I don't expect you to say anything clever or wise, I understand if some people are shy." she continued, looking into his eyes and winking. "This can be easily fixed." She meant the tear, and at once set to working at it.