I don't own LotR
Wynduin's funeral was simple, as she would have liked it, but contained a few hints of noble flavor that were necessary. Uniformed guards escorted her body out of the city, walking behind a solemn Wyniel, toward Osgiliath. The long march on the Pellenor went unnoticed, such was Wyniel's grief. She laid her mother to rest among the underground tombs of her family in that ancient ruin, Boromir bedecked in black beside her. She shed a single tear that joined the river below her feet, then turned and led the funeral company back.
At the ledge of a window in her bedroom, Wyniel gazed into the empty city near the river. Boromir paced back and forth patiently - he didn't know how to comfort someone, so he contented himself to silence. Wyniel stayed awake all that night, finally retiring when the sun met the city. Boromir joined her, ever faithful.
"Sleep now, you need your rest." Boromir whispered. He had drawn the curtains to fake night.
"Will you sleep with me today?" Wyniel asked.
"For a while. I must train at noon."
"Very well." Wyniel mumbled. "Wake me up when you leave."