#knowing what i know about wrackingspelt paints this in an even more tragic light

[thepringlesofblood]

thank you for your service holy shit it took me like 3 re-watches to understand what was being said.

AIGHT FOLKS so i spent the last few minutes trying to decipher Brennan's rather verbose letter. My ADHD ass heard several quarter words that made my brain fizzle into white snow and decided I needed to make it make sense. Stick with me here, because I may be wrong, who knows.

The letter in bold

An attempt at translation in italics

My Dearest Wrackingspelt,

In the execution of one's duties in service to king and court, it becomes necessary at times to place in the confidence of one's most trusted and privileged compatriots,

To do my job, I must confide in you, my dearest and closest friend

the secret misgivings

I am worried

of tender sentiment

about my affectionate feelings

to which even the steadiest hearts

that even someone as level-headed and rational as me

may be compelled in the face of rank uncertainty and tribulation,

will want to pursue something with [Rue] - in spite of possible punishment -

defiant of all preparation in the narrow precognition of their host,

and despite what I expected of them (based on rumours and gathered intel)

to wit,

I will tell you

the burden of execrable misery,

I feel miserable (about my feelings towards Rue)

far from waning with the passing hours,

and time isn't making this pain go away

counters all adages and aphorisms,

despite all the proverbs saying otherwise

whose musings on the passing of time are rendered mendacious

and my previous beliefs regarding the passage of time are proven false

on the passage of time and its remediation

when I once thought time would heal all wounds

of want or injury.

including the loss or rejection of something I want (the loss of Rue's affection towards Hob, perhaps)

It instead waxes with all the venom and ferocity of an asp

[The pain of rejection] instead is becoming worse and more painful

such that your humble servant must fail in knowing rest or hope.

so much so that I can't sleep or convince myself it gets better, or that things will change.

[It is a dull and dreary ache -] the most dispassionate

[The pain] is a dull and dreary ache - that the most uncaring

tempest whose ruinous wake strands

passing storm leaves behind

[what it cannot destroy.]

[what it cannot destroy.]

It has taken me 45 minutes to write the past four sentences, so I shall speak more plainly.

my boy Brennan is telling us it took 45 minutes in the green room to write all that in preparation of the epistolary period - fuckin hell.

I wish that you were here. I wish that I could tell you everything would be alright. And most ardently, (captions say "urgently" but I heard "ardently") I wish that you might one day read-...

This part - wow, this part. No translation needed. More than likely, the feelings embellished in THIS PART are directed towards "Wrackingspelt," but wouldn't it just fuck me up if this part of the letter was about Rue.

TL;DR Brennan is having Hob wax purple poetic about his feelings towards (and perceived rejection by) Rue. Hob didn't get any sleep. He thought time would make it all hurt less, but he was wrong.