A Whumper at Heart

Deleted scene stills - Aragorn heals Faramir in the Houses of Healing, with Ioreth looking on.

I stumbled on these last August - the top still I found on Pinterest, where it is credited (without a link) to a “David Wenham fan site on Facebook”. Thanks to “grammaboodawgs” for her now-extinct Photobucket archive in which i found one copy of the second photo. The other copy was on an 2006 blog post. No sources were listed by either the photobucket album or the blog (which hasn’t been updated since 2014). I included both copies because one is higher res but slightly cropped. Couldn’t find anything else pertinent to this deleted scene and these photos were news to me, so some LotR fans here on tumblr may also enjoy seeing these.

#they should have included this scene just for the devastating parallel of #Aragon leaning over Faramir as he saves him #vs Aragorn leaning over Boromir as he dies (via science-side-of-hogwarts)

^YES

It would have been a beautiful parallel!

“The hands of the king are the hands of a healer, and so shall the rightful king be known.”

This is one of my favorite scenes from the book, as well. Faramir’s reaction, waking up to the news that his long-awaited King has returned, is so pure. And Aragorn is so respectful of Faramir, as the last in the line of stewards, and one who was faithful to the end. Aragorn does not only treat Faramir’s wound, but has to bring him back from “some dark vale, calling for one who is lost,” recognizing that Faramir’s ailment is not only physical, but the result of long weariness and grief. Furthermore, Faramir is Boromir’s beloved little brother, and saving his life would be the last and best thing Aragorn could do for Boromir. 

Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King (2003)

Some of claracivry’s fav whump: Pippin saves Faramir from the fire

Then the boat turned towards me, and stayed its pace, and floated slowly by within my hand’s reach, yet I durst not handle it. It waded deep, as if it were heavily burdened, and it seemed to me as it passed under my gaze that it was almost filled with clear water, from which came the light; and lapped in the water a warrior lay asleep.

A broken sword was on his knee. I saw many wounds on him. it was Boromir, my brother, dead. I knew his gear, his sword, his beloved face. One thing only I missed: his horn. One thing only I knew not: a fair belt, as it were of linked golden leaves, about his waist.

Boromir! I cried. Where is thy horn? Whither goest thou? O Boromir! But he was gone. The boat turned into the stream and passed glimmering on into the night. Dreamlike it was, and yet no dream, for there was no waking.