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.