Only twice in my life have I cried like a baby in a movie theatre: at the end of Braveheart, you know... "FREEDOM!", and when Strider bent over the dying Boromir in Fellowship. My emotion was spurred by the same basic principle.
Both men embodied strength, determination, and, more over, a passion for a noble cause greater than themselves, even to the point that most others would break. Boromir was decieved by the ring, true. But in the end he looked into the eyes of that noble cause and pledged, "my brother, my captain, my king". He, like William Wallace, embodies those virtues that I would like to possess. Long live the memory of Boromir, Man of Gondor!
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I prefer Gillaume d’Férny, connoisseur of fine fruit.
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