Valour with Honour
Pippin felt insignificant. The vast hall was filled with shadows. The Steward, hunched over, grey hair veiling his face, looked up. His eyes burned with a loss too great to bear and hatred for all those who still lived. Yet Pippin glimpsed a shadow of Boromir’s nobility and passion in the wreck that was Denethor.
“You saw my son die?” Pippin’s throat closed in panic. How could he speak of it? His eyes fell to the horn in Denethor’s lap. Boromir, on his knees, had looked into Pippin’s eyes, pain mingling with love, courage with hopelessness. Then he had struggled to his feet.
Pippin stood up straighter and spoke through his fear. “I honor your son’s memory, for he was very valiant....”