I Saw A Post Saying That Boromir Looked Too Scruffy In FotR For A Captain Of Gondor, And I Tried To Move

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

Same energy

If I had a nickel for every time I absolutely loved a show with a good-looking ex-military lead named Mal who goes around breaking the law with a found family who is often seen as angry and stubborn but actually has a heart of gold, I'd have two nickels which isn't much but it's weird that it happened twice

POV: You, a figurehead of a nation, have travelled to another land for a meeting as a messenger of your nation’s status of the captivity of a prisoner you were entrusted with. You were relatively calm before your presentation, your speech practiced, and your spirit as light as your feet on the ground. However, before you conceived to give your testimony, a friend of yours (who had diplomatic immunity in the land) drew all the attention in the meeting to himself. He regaled his hardships with traveling as a man set to govern one day. He spoke of the nearly two decades he had spent tracking your prisoner, a War Criminal in many of the other representative’s territories, at the behest of the wisest in your vicinity, a martyr of your generation. You learn of the struggle to capture the murderer that constantly evaded him. A priceless heirloom is brought up in the conversation, as how could it not be? It was the cause of the very meeting. Several nations were called upon to contemplate its destruction as none could escape its manipulation, its corruption greater than that of money could ever tempt. And it was your convict that held possession of it before his imprisonment. Your friends admits that he is glad that the fiend is in chains, not hounding after the nephew of a treasured comrade of a sovereign kingdom, a friend of its King before his untimely death in battle. You shake in your seat unnoticed as you begin to realize that maybe the daily walks for your detainee through the forest should not have existed. You are next to speak. Your tongue feels heavy. You are shitting your pants. You are Legolas Greenleaf, Crown Prince of Mirkwood.

elrond: i can't help aragorn be king because then i have officially run out of excuses for why he can't marry my daughter

gandalf: my god elrond people are dying