I am an aspiring artist studying at MICA.
I'm a 90's Russian.
This blog consists of much LOTR appreciation, plus Ashes to Ashes, Life on Mars, Elementary, Once Upon a TIme, Doctor Who, Black Books, Sherlock, or just about anything.
AU MEME » LOTR as a dark & violent thriller » “The true soldier fights not because he hates what is in front of him, but because he loves what is behind him.”
How would you call a city infected by carcinogenic and ambitious men, feeding off the strenght of its citizens, weakening them slowly by taking away jobs, peace, dreams and hope? A city dying, mirroring the living dead that inhabited its streets.? A city so corrupted that its only prerogative is its own survival and self perpetuation? A city in the hands -and claws- of a rotten soul? Welcome to Middletown.
Frodo made no answer. Almost he yielded to the desire for help and counsel, to tell this grave young man, whose words seemed so wise and fair, all that was in his mind. But something held him back. His heart was heavy with fear and sorrow: if he and Sam were indeed, as seemed likely, all that was now left of the Nine Walkers, then he was in sole command of the secret of their errand. Better mistrust undeserved than rash words. And the memory of Boromir, of the dreadful change that the lure of the Ring had worked in him, was very present to his mind, when he looked at Faramir and listened to his voice: unlike they were, and yet also much akin.
‘Then must I leave my own people, man of Gondor?’ she said. ‘And would you have you proud folk say to you: “There goes a lord who tamed a wild shieldmaiden of the North! Was there no woman of the race of Numenor to choose?” ‘
‘I would,’ said Faramir. And he took her in his arms and kissed her under the sunlit sky, and he cared not that they stood high upon the walls in the sight of many.