All Dwarfs May Be Bastards Yet Not

Catelyn Had Never Liked This Godswood. She Had Been Born A Tully, At Riverrun Far To The South, On The Red Fork Of The Trident. The Godswood There Was A Garden, Bright And Airy, Where Tall Redwoods Spread Dappled Shadows Across Tinkling Streams, Birds Sang From Hidden Nests, And The Air Was Spicy With The Scent Of Flowers.

They Are Children, Sansa Thought. They Are Silly Little Girls, Even Elinor. They’ve Never Seen A Battle, They’ve Never Seen A Man Die, They Know Nothing. Their Dreams Were Full Of Songs And Stories, The Way Hers Had Been Before Joffrey Cut Her Fathers Head Off. Sansa Pitied Them. Sansa Envied Them.

But Tolkien Doesn't Ask The Question: What Was Aragorn's Tax Policy?

Women Do Not Forget. Women Do Not Forgive.

The Iron Throne Is Mine By Rights. All Those Who Deny That Are My Foes." "the Whole Of The Realm Denies It, Brother," Said Renley. "old Men Deny It With Their Death Rattle, And Unborn Children Deny It In Their Mothers' Wombs. They Deny It In Dorne And They Deny It On The Wall. No One Wants You For Their King. Sorry.