I saw a post saying that Boromir looked too scruffy in FotR for a Captain of Gondor, and I tried to move on, but I’m hyperfixating. Has anyone ever solo backpacked? I have. By the end, not only did I look like shit, but by day two I was talking to myself. On another occasion I did fourteen days’ backcountry as the lone woman in a group of twelve men, no showers, no deodorant, and brother, by the end of that we were all EXTREMELY feral. You think we looked like heirs to the throne of anywhere? We were thirteen wolverines in ripstop.
My boy Boromir? Spent FOUR MONTHS in the wilderness! Alone! No roads! High floods! His horse died! I’m amazed he showed up to Imladris wearing clothes, let alone with a decent haircut. I’m fully convinced that he left Gondor looking like Richard Sharpe being presented to the Prince Regent in 1813
*electric guitar riff*
And then rocked up to Imladris a hundred ten days later like
In honour of episode 11 one month anniversary, the sskk scene as told by people's reactions from this blog's activity page
Full poem (in text) under the cut.
In the depths of a forest, a twisted man did dwell, with all he ever wished for, yet still his greed would swell. A prince of great might, with the earth at his feet, clad in a verdant cloak and a mask of ivory sheet. Though he owned all he sought, his essence was bare, devoid of the joy that his wealth could ensnare. With nothing left to own, he sought immortal life instead, for death he would defy. To be a God, he chose himself, in pride, he led— for none divine could die. One day, he chanced upon a boy who frolicked in the mead. For the first time, his heart was moved and it began to plead. "This child," he exclaimed, "Must be the key to my divinity, for what can move a God's heart, but a muse's affinity?" For weeks, he watched him with passion and zeal, and planned to keep this muse, to whom he would appeal. With gifts and good fortune, he lured the boy with ease, seeking nothing but for all his friendship in his kindly pleas. The boy, trusting and naïve, followed the False God's lead, his deceit spun like silken web, to which he paid no heed. The man betrayed him and drove his loved ones away, leaving the boy destitute, completely alone to sway. "Do not despair," said the False God, "for I will not leave you behind." He held tight to the weeping boy and promised, “To you, I will be bind.” "Never will I leave you," the False God declared, "I am your only friend. Forever, we'll be paired." The boy followed him, his obedience in vain. Often, he was struck, the man delighting in his pain. The boy tried to change, to avoid the man's ire, but nothing could satisfy the False God's desire. "You are my muse," he confessed with glee, "The key to my salvation, the one who'll set me free." He locked the child away in a vault without end, using him as a vessel for magic he could bend. The boy's pleas for mercy went unheard and ignored. Each time, he was destroyed, and again, he was restored. Every return to life, he was less the same, no progress made. The boy no longer smiled or laughed, his inner-light soon to fade. The False God gazed upon his work with horror and with fear, for now he knew his immortal life was impossible to near. He would die, alone and bereft in a world so vast, his muse no longer moving his heart, for at last he could see, that the boy was just an ordinary child, and nothing more than he.
My cat has to wear a cone this week and it made me think of an angel whose halo is a cone.