I don't own LotR
Wyniel was walking on sunshine for days. She told her mother immediately about her plans for marriage, and Wynduin, already having tried to fix her daughter up, surrendered. They drafted many wedding dress designs that night, and Wyniel slept among silver linens and golden clouds.
For days she didn't give much thought to Boromir's absence, but after two weeks Wyniel became worried and doubtful.
"Where has he been? He would've come to see me by now." she told Winmund on their way to the well.
"His father is probably keeping a close eye on him. Denethor is very possessive." Winmund informed her. She smiled halfheartedly but remained silent. "Besides, he wouldn't have given you a gift like this," Winmund pointed to the cloak, "if he wasn't coming back for it."
"I suppose you're right." Wyniel said, but her mind was still troubled. After several minutes of consideration, she turned to her friend. "Let's go there now!"
"Where? Ithilien?" Winmund asked. He had recently been jabbering on about becoming a Ranger and training in the dark woods.
"No, the Steward's Hall. To see Boromir. Come on, let's go." Wyniel said, and dropping the bucket inside her door, grabbed Winmund's hand and dragged him up the street.