Disclaimer: These characters belong to Tolkien. I make no money from this.
On the Roof
The sun was setting in serene bands of red and glassy orange...next to the grief inside the walls of the Steward's house.
Just now he was connecting with neither.
Her last breath had been a long drawn-out affair...
He never knew death was surrounded by so much muted clamour...such a rustle. Of whispers and skirts, of feet in and out of doors...followed by a surge of air and sorrow.
Boromir let himself remember the other mother he had known, who was sunny and wild, and whom they told him he resembled.
He had been proud of that.
He still was.