Boromir Goes to the One Movie
by NorthStar
Rockland, Maine – December 31, 2003 - The Fourth Age of Sun
My dear Linaewen
I write this note from a littered kitchen table in the house of one of
your board compatriots, a real character who calls herself NorthStar.
She claims to be a good friend of yours, and actually, come to think of
it, I do remember a woman by that name visiting once…yeah, that’s
right, she bumped me out of the Barca-Lounger! Aha! Well, I am
returning the favor, by commandeering her “life-sapping” couch for the
evening and watching something called “Blue Collar Comedy Tour” with
her mate, a decent-seeming sort named Rich. There is warmth,
camaraderie and plenty of Diet Coke, so please do not worry about me. I
may stay a few days; teach her little one to fence. He has already
shown me his collection of swords (impressive for one so young) and
challenged me to a duel with something called a “light saber.” He’s a
regular little Gondorian, all right. Reminds me a bit of Pippin – all
the manic, apple-chomping energy and innocent face.
I write to tell you of the experience I had while watching the
adventures of my comrades with NorthStar. I was not sure about this
venture, as I think she may be a little off-center (for example, what’s
up with that hair, anyway?) but as I was anxious to see my brother,
father and companions once again, I felt it worth the risk.
Upon entering the theater, I was pleased to see that most all the seats
were filled. NS and I chose a spot near the front, where I could
stretch my legs and have ample room for my sword and shield. She
introduced me to a gourmet treat called “nachos”, which she chased with
a chewy red candy, “Twizzlers.” An odd combination in theory, but
strangely satisfying in practice. After several forgettable
advertisements for other films, I was glad to see the lights go down,
and to hear the haunting music that accompanies our journey.
It is difficult to see Frodo suffering so, and to know that I
contributed to his pain and his mistrust of men. I am forever grateful
to my wise brother Faramir for his gentle treatment of both Frodo and
Sam, and feel great pride in his ability to let go of the Ring – a
thing I could not do, myself. I found myself inadvertently clenching my
fists whenever that wasted, skulking wretch Gollum tried to insinuate
himself between such boon companions, speaking poison, much like Grima
did to Theoden.(What happened to him, anyway?) I was roused to
vainglorious pride as well, as I always am, to see my fair city, its
gleaming walls and battlements, its lovely women and proud,strong
soldiers. Its impressive outside hid well the turmoil within.
Ah, Lin. It does not matter how many times I see it, my father’s
treatment of Faramir never fails to chill my soul. I was always his
favorite. Even when I was brought home drunk in an ox-cart, even when I
was “indiscreet” with local shop girls, even when I blew off exams to
go bungee jumping, he never wavered in his fondness and attention to
me. “Sowing his oats,” he used to say to his council, when they
expressed reservations about my behavior. “The bookworm,” he used to
call Far, with contempt in his voice, as though learning was a useless
thing, a sign of weakness. Of course, his inattention to Far sometimes
worked in little brother’s favor…ask him about the “shaving cream”
incident some time. Eowyn should get a laugh out of that. Ah, well. At
least he found true love in those dark times. Eowyn is a fine-looking
woman, and no slouch with a sword. Nice work, slicing up Angmar like
that. And Merry, helping! Made me proud, it did.
I have to hand it to Aragorn for his military recruitment techniques;
Dimwalt was a stroke of genius. Though the cursed weren’t much to look
at, they sure managed to mow down Sauron’s hordes. The smell of them
alone probably killed a few hundred. Unembalmed and all…
I do wish, however, that the chroniclers had shown that my father’s
unwise dalliance with the Palantir was what pushed him over the edge.
He comes off as a bit of a loon, ranting, raving, waving his arms
around. I know you took issue with Gandalf giving him a whack or two,
but I have to agree with NS, he was out of control, and sometimes force
is the only option to control chaos. I cannot speak of the pyre scene,
as the very thought makes my stomach roil. I never thought to see the
old man go out like a fireworks display though – figures, he was always
a drama queen. Drove Mom nuts with his high-flown speeches and prancing
about. Almost makes me wonder if he had elvish blood.
The battle scenes were difficult to watch; I was not meant to be a
spectator when the call to arms sounds, and most certainly not when it
is my city under attack. Several times I found myself leaping to my
feet and brandishing sword and shield, and only NS’s fast hold on my
tunic kept me from rushing headlong into the fray. I insisted on
wearing my over-tunic bearing the white tree and stars to the theater,
but I must confess that underneath I have taken to wearing a garment
called “sweatpants.” Verrry comfortable. I highly recommend an
all-cotton undergarment.No more chafing!
I was heartened to see the Rohirrim respond to Gondor with such
strength of arms. I know my father wasn’t one much for hoisting a pint
with other rulers, in fact could be darn near anti-social at times; but
Theoden graciously overlooked these gaffes in diplomacy and came to our
aid nonetheless. I saw many faces I remembered from the “Future Rulers
of Middle Earth” conference I went to a few years ago, and was glad to
see that Eomer has not lost his “game face” in battle. (I first espied
this look of his during a particularly heated game of lawn darts – I
found out the hard way that you DO NOT disparage the Horse Lords, lest
you find a steaming pile of refuse on your pillow when you retire that
evening) And Gamling, as gallant as ever, although his choice of facial
hair is unfortunate. I must admit, I wept to see Theoden fall, although
not as hard as NorthStar…she was truly upset, and I found myself
awkwardly attempting to comfort her; theater seats are most assuredly
not made for cuddling. (But I assure you, Lin, you remain first in my
heart, and arms, my lovely and faithful scribe).
Although there were countless acts of bravery chronicled in this record
of the quest, I must say that the heroism of the hobbits was the most
stirring. Sam, in particular, was unparalleled in his bravery. I always
thought his attention to Frodo was a bit much, but it certainly paid
off in the end. His carrying of Frodo to the Mountain of Fire was the
most selfless act I have ever witnessed.
It chilled me to the bone to see Frodo’s fair face turn to cunning and
hunger in the face of the flames…and shamed me too. Is that the look I
wore on the banks of the Anduin, Lin? I fear that it was, and the pain
slices through me like a knife. I felt his pain as my own, Linaewen,
his desire for that cursed thing. To think, our world, my world, nearly
ended over such a small thing, endowed with such an enormous power to
destroy.
Aragorn will make a fine king. It pained me at the beginning to think
of any other save one of Ecthelion’s line sitting on the throne of
Gondor – we had held the stewardship for so long, it felt that it had
become ours by right. But the heir of Isildur is the rightful claimant,
and the true ruler. He has proved himself loyal to the White City and
to all of Middle Earth. And he cleaned up pretty well, too. And who
knew he could sing? The man is full of surprises.
And he got the babe, finally. It was about time…Elrond looked like he
didn’t know whether to laugh or cry when Aragornup and laid one on
Arwen. Typical dad. At least Aragorn doesn’t have to worry about his
in-laws visiting and staying forever. (Get it?)
The last scenes were heart wrenching, were they not? That elven magic
is something else. He looked 100% better once he got aboard that ship,
the roses once again in his cheeks, those amazing blue eyes clear and
untroubled. Looked like he’s had one of those “facelift in a jar”
treatments they’re always pushing on ME-TV.
All in all a sobering and emotional experience. But a long one, indeed
and I found myself dashing for the restroom along with the rest of the
crowd, while NS, apparently having a larger "capacity" than I, stayed
to drool over the closing credits. I must admit, the pencil drawing of
me at the very end is quite fine.
Well, I’ll close now, because the little master here has just informed
I that it’s “time to fight!” The very words I always longed to hear
from a child of my own. Perhaps if I close my eyes, I might pretend for
a moment that he is mine…Lord Brynn of Owls Head.
With all my love, my fair Linaewen.
Boromir
