I don't own LotR
When no ill events hurt Boromir or Wyniel for quite some time, Wyniel's heart was at ease. She hardly thought of her nightmares at all, but instead put herself to work among the Hall. Many months passed until the summer waned and a chill was in the air. It had been two years since Ecthelion's funeral, and Wyniel was aching for the company of her child. She had tried many times to forget about his death, but the ruined city was just within her sight, and Wyniel felt the urge to return. Boromir was stubborn and refused to let her out alone, and kept insisting that it was unhealthy to lament for so long. But still, Wyniel was much aggrieved by her loneliness, and finally persuaded Boromir to accompany her to the river.
So standing on the bank where she once lost her son, Wyniel looked across the water at the vast expanse that stretched toward the mountains. Boromir was behind her, wandering impatiently in the tall grass where their horses were grazing. The wind made Wyniel's cheeks and nose red, and she slowly rubbed them warm in her contemplation. The scene invoked old feelings, but no tears came this time to her eyes. Wyniel felt empty instead, like the breeze echoed inside her chest as it would in an empty barrel.
But when she had flipped her wind-blown hair out of her eyes a strange scene confounded her. A quick flashback to a dream of hers made her heart race, and she heard the frightened trot of horses' hooves but saw only the blue sky stretched above her.
She couldn't breathe.