For the past seven weeks, I’ve been watching Willow, a series that I don’t think anyone was asking for yet now that we’ve gotten it I can’t imagine it not existing.
It’s not a show that takes itself too seriously which has been relaxing. It’s like watching a simple sitcom like Stargate with lovable characters going on weekly adventures. I love the diversity of the cast, I love all of the romantic drama, and I’m loving the story. It feels like I’m reading a good old-fashioned YA fantasy novel and that has been the most rewarding element of the series.
Next week, Willow comes to an end and I’m honestly bummed about the prospect of not being able to watch this show anymore. I’m hoping a second season is already in the works because I want to continue following these characters and their storylines.
I thank you for reading and I hope you have a fantastic day.
We’re five episodes into The Rings of Power and that counts as five hours of storytelling and yet the series has been met with a lukewarm reception so far. There are either people who are enjoying the film for its gorgeous visuals, slow-burn dramatics, or its sweeping score. And then there are others who find the show tediously boring or are not fans of the divisive diversions from canon. We’re not going to even delve too deep into the people who are still mad because the show had the audacity to make Galadriel a warrior (which J.R.R Tolkien described in texts about her in the First Age) or to include Black characters in a fantasy world they wanted to claim as all-white.
For me, the first two weeks of viewing were fun but I was still skeptical about the story. The first two episodes undoubtedly sucked me in with their impressive visuals and apparent attempt at setting the groundwork for what could be one of the most epic series ever made. The third episode took a couple of viewings to really embrace. I liked the addition of Numenor and its cast of characters but it almost felt like it was too much to take in at once. Then the fourth episode happened.
Last night I watched the first two episodes of The Rings of Power and it met every one of my expectations in an absolutely stunning fashion. The beginning starts a little differently than maybe expected but what it sets up is a storyline that makes Galadriel’s dogged determination in this show feel warranted and comprehensible.
The first two episodes are perfect because they made us care about every single storyline and the characters that inhabited these varying sections.
Galadriel is on a mission to find Sauron and she will not be denied. Not until she has found the very evil who took her brother’s life from her.
Mestra Galerunner would’ve never thought she’d be a mother. As a young elven girl, she flitted about the Asrana Forest after running away from home, getting into trouble, and causing her elders endless grief. As an adult, she learned the ways of the assassin, choosing to exist as a solitary being and elude companionship. And then one day, on a stormy night, she found Pil and everything changed.
Being an assassin could be difficult but for Mestra Galerunner it was just another day.
Despite having lived for over 700 years it was still momentous visiting cities throughout Adalor. She was currently living in Nottinglot Square, one of the finest cities not just in the land, Hayward, but in all of Adalor. It was a ravishing city filled with the wealthy and the powerful as well as some of the finest Haywardian architecture found anywhere.
The skyline was filled with towering steeples atop grand castles crafted from marble or white granite. These castles were then covered in mosaics, intricate paintings, or the finest stones mined from the Glittering Caves found in the deep gorges located within Toldan.
Citizens rode along the gold-lined white stone streets atop striking steeds covered in glittering armor and fine velvet or in gilded carriages pulled by various exotic animals. Such as the large cats with their shimmering, golden fur from the lush grasslands of Toldan or the massive horned Elki from the deep forests of Asrana.
The citizens of Nottinglot Square were all about image. There was not a beggar in sight or a poor peasant anywhere to be found. It was often referred to as the “City of Royals.”
And in this “City of Royals” lied not only the wealthy but the wicked, and it was the wicked that Mestra was hired to dispose of.
Morning often arrived with the beckoning call of nature but on Pil’s fifteenth birthday the sound awakening her was something new and exciting; the hypnotic swish of the ocean.
Pil stretched beneath the sublime silk covers of her large bed cushioned with the softest feathers before standing, walking over to the deck of her sprawling bedroom. Her sleeveless silk white nightgown brushed against the perfectly polished wooden floor as she shuffled sleepily forward. She pushed aside the billowing white curtains that acted as the entrance to the wooden deck, breathing in deeply as the moist, warm air coated her bare skin. The unmistakable saltwater and fishy scent of the ocean greeted her instantly.