"They will be so angry when they return!" she cried, meaning her sisters. The Knight of the Single Eyebrow had proposed another item of social protocol for the royal houses of the five kingdoms.
Her father gave a short laugh and assured her that very few of his proposals ever made it to a state of reality and would she please lay back on the pillows and stop letting her temper get away with her! Just because she was convalescing didn't mean she was sure of absolute recovery.
She made a face at him and lay back against the pillows, the multimillion embroidered pillows at which he had thrown a sardonic look before stationing himself by the fire. Guards were waiting outside, and the night behind the windows of the small sickroom had settled into a fitting purple, since he'd slung his formal, heavy ermine robe over the end of the bed. Another half hour, maybe, until he'd have to leave and attend to the feast.
For a little while they both retired into their own thoughts; she was wondering what had happened that day during the long meetings that could make such a fuss? The Count with the Mustache must have said something unsettling, or maybe it was the Knight with Yellow Hair? Was it the Lady in Purple who was always sniggering?
She sighed and let the problem go, assuming she'd be told in due time but still annoyed at not being kept up. Perhaps Fiona would hear something in the servants' hall.
The King stood with his back to the window, not aware that the sunset threw a majestic glow on his grey hair and dark tunic. He tried to take off such titles and honors when speaking to his own family members, but it was usually useless as he always had a piece of information that he wasn't allowed to tell them or a barrier he had to put up to observe formalities and conventions. It began to weigh on him a little, and showed in the lines around his eyes, the tenseness of his shoulders. She pitied him, sometimes, and he knew it.
He shuddered. What a position! To be pitied by his own daughter! It would be uncomfortable for any man. But she did respect him--he could not scorn her pity so or not value her love to spite its mistakes. It was a gentle heart that served him.
Well, writing that last line, for any Tolkien fan, is very meaningful. So I daydreamed awhile on the internet, looking for pics of Faramir. Well, though I much respect David Wenham for his role in playing one of the most awesome heroes EVER, I am very upset with the group of people that messed his character up. They never showed they way he thought so clearly, or the way he studied and read--he was the one who first had the dream, remember!? He was "the wizard's pupil"! But nooooooo, don't put that in the movie. Make it a love story with a fickle Eowyn who was afraid to fight. Faramir was a man in his own right, wasn't he? He was captain of Ithilien! Come on, people! And it isn't like Eowyn was such a wimp, either! She thought clearly even then! They actually had normal conversations, not peppered with enough poetry and flirtatious smiles to make a Tolkienite puke . . . I hate it when they mess stuff up in movies like this. How come they can't get the heroes right? The purpose of heroes is not to fall in love. Gah!!! Faramir had a personality.
Well, that's what I get for watching the movie. Everybody, please go read all the bits about Faramir before coming back. Esp. the bits with the interrogation scene and the one around the fireplace when Denethor is talking with Mithrandir. The House of Healing stuff can wait until you've read the entire book and know it isn't characteristic. Ahem.