Denethor locked the door to the tower room, dropped the halves of the Horn of Gondor and sidled over to the stone pedestal. Beneath a cloth lay all the answers to all of his questions, he was certain. It had never failed him, not once.
But the things he saw now were nearly unbearable. Gondor couldn't survive what was coming at her, and his son… If Boromir hadn't been able to survive, there was no hope for any of them.
And still his fingers reached out to draw the cloth away. He couldn't bear to watch, or to turn away.