Borlas

The man who sat before him was old. He was bent and thin with age, the skin on his hands spotted and leathery. His hair and beard was pure white, his face wrinkled but his sharp grey eyes glinted with alertness.

"Time passed quickly." Borlas murmured. The man before him smiled.

"Aye, it did." The man's voice rasped against his throat. Borlas frowned, got up and filled a glass of water for him. He brought it back and offered it to the man, who smiled in gratitude and took a few sips. Borlas did not sit.

"There was a time when I used to play in these corridors with my brother," Borlas' tone caught a wistful edge. "So much has changed since then."

"All things must come to an end." His companion said wisely. The man's voice was reasonably better. There was a soft clink when the glass was set on a nearby table.

"And with it even the Golden Age of King Elessar's rule." Borlas sighed. He knelt before the elderly and bowed his head before him. "What am I to do, Lord Faramir? Neither your passing not that of your comrades will change the fate of our future. But I am wary of taking responsibility for it. What if my duty overwhelms me? What if I fail to protect this kingdom?"

Faramir's hand rested on top of Borlas' head. It was light and comforting.

"No burden is too great for its bearer." Faramir advised him quietly. "If a duty is given to you, then it means that you are best suited for a task. All you have to see is that it is accomplished in the time you are given, to be successful." Faramir's voice was fatherly, kindly.

Tired, Faramir's hand slipped off his head. When Borlas looked up, Faramir leaned back his head and closed his eyes.

"You are tired. I didn't mean to keep you awake for my sake. Forgive me."

Faramir chuckled softly.

"Do not worry." He said. Faramir opened one eye and focused at him before closing it again. "It is the elderly's chore to advise and the youth's duty not to listen."

Borlas laughed and kissed his lord's hand in affection.