It was just after the fifth hour that you suddenly stopped and turned pale. The goblet in your hand slithered to the floor in a pool of spilling red.
“Faramir?” I asked
You scarcely breathed but in a thread of voice said, “Boromir… I hear his horn. He is calling, Father.”
I stepped to where you stared unseeingly out a window and watched you anxiously.
Suddenly your head went down.
“It blows no more, Father.” You turned and looked at me, eyes blind. “He is gone.”
Tremors shook you and I reached for you and held you… my only son.