Boromir’s horn lay on the ground and I stroked it lightly in the dark. The smooth sleek curve bound with cords of leather. The great horn of Gondor, passed from one generation to the next, it whispered of pleasures of the hunt and of battle. The bone was chill from the night air. A pleasant sensation when touched by the heat of my skin. I did not want to wake him from his sleep, it was not necessarily my intention, but when I pressed my lips against it and blew lightly, it was just enough to rouse him from sleep.