Okay - but just for you, Andrea and Ang!
Sorry for the flounce - I enjoy writing the reviews and don't mind the time, I just get hacked off now and again!
By the Seven, that seemed to be a short episode – or maybe it appeared so because the last fifteen or so minutes whizzed by so thrillingly!
Not that the preceding scenes slouched by – although several of them which incorporated a lot of walking up and down the interminable stairs at Dragonstone by the major players in the war against Cersei - seemed a bit slow.
The King in the North, Jon Snow(Stark/Targaryan) and Ser Davos looked particularly cold and tired – it was unkind in the hubba to make me laugh at that point by inferring that they’d been up all night chalking pictures of the Children of the Forest and Men fighting together to drive off the Night King and his mob, deep within the dragon stone mine under the castle.
Despite his (possible) artistic endeavours, the silly tart is still insistent that she won’t ally with him unless he ‘bends the knee’ – much as Stannis Baratheon once insisted that Mance Rayder make obeisance to him to save the wildlings.
Mance wouldn't do it and don’t you, lad – I’m from the North too and we don’t forget!
Meanwhile, back in the North, Arya has finally made it back to Winterfell and, in another scene reminiscent of the one where she found herself outside the Red Keep in King’s Landing, was challenged by this week’s two comedy gateguards who seemed to have little conversation apart from invitations to partake of sex and travel elsewhere.
A girl was unphased, and soon was in the crypt of Winterfell being reunited with Sourpuss Sansa, or ‘Lady Stark’ as she now insists on being called! By her sister
As a reunion, it was slightly warmer than the Sansa/Bran meeting last week, but not exactly joyous, although they did share a good laugh at Arya’s ‘list’, mostly because Sansa thought little sis was kidding.
Off they went to meet up with Bran the Monotonous, who’d already dismissed poor Meera – you know – the one who protected him, fought for him, watched her brother, Summer, Hodor, the Children of the Forest and his predecessor die for him, not to mention dragging him for miles and miles through blizzards – with the kind of ‘thank you’ one could expect from someone for whom you’d performed a very minor service.
Garrrggghh – I’m not a Bran fan, I never have been – although I acknowledge that without the little blister and his Peeping Tom routine, there would have been no story – but it looks as if we’re stuck with him and his toneless pronouncements for ever!
Still, he frightened the life out of Baelish, which is always worth a look, when the sycophantic slimeball presented him with the very Valeryian dagger used so long ago to attempt to murder him.
“Chaos is a ladder …” he intoned, mirroring a conversation between Littlefinger and Varys, alone in the Throne Room of the Red Keep, thus proving, coming quickly after his revelation that he’s aware of Arya’s ‘list’, that he knows everything, up to and including, his – Littlefinger’s – treachery.
Insert dramatic music of choice!
On to more entertaining stuff – from my shallow point of view, of course – it’s my review!
Terrific sword skills in the practice fight between Brienne and Arya, two of my best girls – although I suspect, in reality, one blow on target from Brienne would have crushed Arya like a beetle, no matter how much she pranced around.
An extra thrill felt by me – I told you I was shallow – was the expressions on the faces of Littlefinger Baelish and Sourpuss Sansa. I laughed, but I’m haunted by the notion that she, if anyone, is likely to betray both Arya and Jon if she gets the chance.
Speaking of betrayal – Theon turned up at Dragonstone and, disappointingly, Jon didn’t throttle him on the spot – and at that point, fed up with the men bleating at each other, Barbie the Unburnt decided to take matters into her own hands.
It’s a pity you weren’t a bit quicker off the mark, you ninny, if you’d set off sooner you would have had the gold from Highgarden which is now in King’s Landing paying off the Iron Banker – I had to be so careful how I typed that bit – a ‘W’ kept trying to replace the ‘B’!
And finally we meet up with Jaime, Bron and the Lannister army, fresh from murdering the Queen of Thorns and plundering her lands and coffers, Jaime clearly a bit morose (as you should be, you murdering sod), Bron feeling miffed at not being gifted Highgarden itself and only getting a bag of gold instead.
At least he had a good laugh at the name of Sam’s brother ‘Dickon’ who was accompanied by his charming father Randyll ‘Flog the Stragglers’ Tarly.
What a lovely man he is – I do hope he was standing right in the line of fire when thousands of Dothraki screamers and the wonderful Drogon came roaring over the horizon.
What a battle – blimey – it was breathtaking - I don’t think I’ve ever seen so many stuntmen on fire, and that’s not even counting the ones hacked to bits by the Dothraki. Kudos to the horseback skills on display – especially those who rose up and fired bows as their horses thundered toward the shield wall.
Shield walls are usually relatively impenetrable – on the other hand, men lined up make a tempting target for a dragon and he duly incinerated them by the score.
I could have watched it for ten more minutes at least, but too soon – Bron the Bowman – ooops – wrong story – ahem, Bron of the Blackwater unveiled the ballista (which I wrongly referred to as a ‘trebuchet’ in a previous post) – and – he shot my darling Drogon!
Massive weeps and agonised cries from me as the wonderful creature spiralled to earth – but wait – he’s not dead, he can’t be dead – he isn’t, but he’s clearly furious and a bit off his target otherwise he would have cremated bliddy Jaime as he galloped toward him, clutching a spear and obviously intent on adding 'Queenkiller' to his list of titles as well as finishing off a poor, injured animal.
As it was, it was his unfortunate horse which got incinerated, as some valiant fool, probably Bron, tackled Jaime off the horse in the nick of time and precipitated him into the river, which, like all cinematic rivers, was at least 200 feet deep.
And there we left him, fellow Watchers, sinking like a stone – and while I will own to a very slight pang on Brienne's behalf – I’m not sure I really care about him any more!