“He looks better now, doesn’t he,” said Frerin, nodding at Faramir. “He looks… younger. Less haunted by his losses.”
Thorin rested a hand upon his brother’s neck for a moment. “Aye.”
Frerin pursed his lips, considering. “Terribly handsome too. I mean, unfairly so.”
Thorin could feel his eyebrows rising, and carefully schooled his expression.
As the shout died down, Frodo bore the crown to Gandalf, who set it, glowing and sparkling, upon Aragorn’s head.
“Now come the days of the King,” Gandalf announced, before he lowered his voice and spoke directly to Aragorn as a friend. There was a touch of Gandalf the Grey in his eyes, full of warm pride. “May they be blessed.”
The King took a deep breath, squaring his shoulders, before he stood and allowed the gathered populace to view him. As the cheers rang out again, Frerin murmured, “he kept his promise to Boromir.”
DONT MIND ME OVER HERE CRYING ABOUT MY CHILDREN
lsaiudhfkjslakhdfgsaj AHHHH thank you, Fishy!
(THEY’VE COME SO FAR. BOROMIR WOULD HAVE BEEN SO PROUD)
yeah, Inorna’s attitudes are, well, a bit Drumpf, a bit Umbridge.
(Krummett, on the other hand, is more of a Tony Abbott… still vile, but more like a toady and a self-interested sycophant, a yes-man and a follower. All he can really do is sloganeer. Still, there is a line he WON’T cross. He won’t kill. For Inorna, there’s nothing she won’t do to get exactly what she wants – because she deserves it, it’s only right.)
I wanted to have a place in the story for wickedness that is NOT all-consumingly obvious and powerful, like Sauron and Mordor and all that.
Sometimes it uses politics and status and demands and manipulation and theft and weasel words; sometimes it accuses and robs others outright even as it paints itself as a victim. Sometimes wickedness isn’t clothed in black with red eyes: sometimes it looks just like a person.
Aw Yiss 