Ch. 70 – Sojourn

Sojourn – Denethor POV – 2 of 4

In which Denethor embarks on a sojourn that is not just about miles.

*****

Boromir knows how to talk and Denethor gets to know his son.

This is probably the happiest time of Denethor’s life, even with a few irritations and problems that crop up. There isn’t much plot in this chapter. It’s more a set of vignettes of Denethor not being High Warden. He kind of likes it.

While he can never be free of politics, Sojourn shows the common and quiet parts of Denethor’s life with the people he most loves, letting him enjoy their company in a way he can’t do in the capital.

Anglachel

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3 thoughts on “Ch. 70 – Sojourn”

  1. This is a great little sojourn for the reader as well. Even with the rainy start. (“A league past the Rammas, it started to rain.” This sounds like many of my bike journeys…) Actually that made me think of Pippin’s comment to Denethor that hobbits don’t sing of anything more terrible than wind and rain.

    “Boromir knows how to talk…” ha! And ask questions. What an awesome education for a little one — traveling and experiencing things firsthand, then writing letters about it all. Of course Denethor’s kids will be brilliant, even just from his influence, let alone genetics.

    I wish our city engineers would figure out how to make concrete that lasted at least three years, let alone three thousand…

  2. A great many of my favorite journeys have begun in rain.

    I like a talkative Boromir. It is such fun to have Denethor interacting with his son in such a happy, unguarded way. It’s an education for them both. It makes you wonder what might have been if Denethor had gone on such a sojourn at a comparable age.

    I wish our city engineers would find some concrete of any kind to fill in the massive potholes and cracked roads and sidewalks in San Diego. Actually, they would like to, as well, but the mayor is too busy trying to give away millions in public funds to bribe the fucking football team owner to stay in town.

    The bridge is modeled on one north of us that bridges a very high, very steep canyon. Alas, it is not in Númenórean black stone, but in plain old concrete.

    Finduilas is rather enjoying the battle of wills with Mr. Snarly. Heh.

    Anglachel

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