Here comes my favorite part, which is quite sad, really. Tragedy strikes hard...
I don't own LotR
Wyniel asked Boromir if Osgiliath was safe to venture near.
"Oh, yes, perfectly. There hasn't been an orc raid in months. Besides, we'll be out on the Pellenor again today, practicing formation, and…" Wyniel didn't hear the rest, it was military mumbo-jumbo that she couldn't care about even if she tried.
"Great! I was hoping to take Ecthelion there today, to see the river. I'll bring a basket so you can eat with us there." Wyniel smiled and kissed her husband in the bright morning on their balcony.
With the kitchen's help, Wyniel packed a light basket with bright red apples, a loaf of bread, and a bit of wine. These she carried in one hand while she supported Ecthelion in the other, and walked across the Pellenor toward Osgiliath.
There was little wind that day, and far off she could see Faramir with his Rangers practicing archery near the wall of Minas Tirith. On her other side and not so far away was Boromir on his splendid horse, leading the men through a tight formation. Wyniel smiled and bounced Ecthelion as she set the basket down in the short grass, partly behind some reeds growing on the riverbank.
"I came here often, when I was younger." she told Ecthelion, who longed to be set down. He ran his fingers through the grass and giggled at the reeds, which were taller than him. After some wandering he returned to his mother, stumbling a little. Wyniel laughed and kissed his forehead as she tickled his fat stomach. The boy convulsed in laughter, his soft brown hair swinging and his grey eyes, like his father's, shining. Oh, how Wyniel loved that boy, and hugging him close to her chest, she stood up to show him the red leaves floating lazily in the water.
Just then a shadow also stood across the bank, and a cry of shock issued from Wyniel as the bowstring snapped.