Eomer Speaks: A Scathing Indictment of Buttercup

Hello wonderful readers! After Buttercup & Westley won The Silmaril Award for Most Devoted Couple this past September (which I was extremely honored to host), my brother Eomer expressed (to me) his extreme disappointment about the result, distaste for Buttercup, and several other strong emotions. Because I know that he writes excellent comic critical essays (y'all, at some point I'll need to find a way to post his seventh grade Walden essay on the blog--you will be ROLLING on the FLOOR) I told him that if he wanted to express said strong emotions in essay format, I'd publish them on the blog. (I think he got the better end of this deal, because he wouldn't write said essay until I'd played Destiny 2, which is really not my kind of videogame, but one of his favorites, and admittedly kind of fun). At the time he finally wound up writing the essay, we were watching through the Twilight saga (purely for lampooning purposes, you understand), so he threw in a Twilight essay, too. And thus, for this week and next week, you get an Eomer rant to enliven your Monday. I hope you enjoy--I certainly did. Oh, and please understand that he's fifteen years old, and pardon any of his, um, fifteen-year-old-isms. Any opinions he expresses are his, not necessarily mine. See you on Friday!
--Sam

Well, hello, little ones! I see you've found my blog post. The name's Eomer, or as my friends call me, [REDACTED]. So controlling, Samantha! I'll leak my name if I want to! It's [REDACTED]. Dangit. Anyway, I am truly delighted to have you here today, because that means I can talk to you for as long as I want about anything I want, because I know a little secret about you. You are reading this post because you have nothing better to do. [Sam interjection: I know for a fact that's not true.] You are a captive audience. So buckle in, children, for today's topic of choice:

Buttercup: A Hookworm In Flower's Clothing

    Some of you may remember a time earlier this past year, when this esteemed blog hosted a division of the Silmaril Awards, that being Most Devoted Couple. I myself was excited for the outcome of this Silmaril, and cast my votes with eager anticipation. Sarah and Silas Heap were on there, along with several couples from J. K. Rowling's books, and many other excellent examples of devoted couples. However, none of these deserving characters received the Silmaril, and it instead went to the Princess Bride's celebrated pair, Buttercup and Westley. My dear friends, my heart was shattered that such a lauded establishment as the Silmaril Awards could be exploited and cheated in such a way. My soul ached for the many couples left behind as Buttercup and Westley took center stage. "Inconceivable!" cried my mind, but it was all too true. Now, I hear you asking, "Eomer, what is it you find so objectionable about this couple? After all, Westley is an excellent example of a devoted husband, and he's absolutely awesome as well!" Ah, but it is not Westley I object to, for here we encounter the subject of today's rant essay: Buttercup. 

    The issue of why Buttercup specifically is undeserving of the Silmaril lies in one simple fact, a fact I will illustrate in the coming pages. For a couple to be truly devoted, that devotion must extend in both directions, a symbiotic relationship, if you will. The contradiction here is obvious. While none can dispute that Westley is madly devoted to Buttercup, Buttercup herself is not. And if one of the members of a couple is not devoted, it cannot be called a devoted couple. That beautiful symbiosis is gone, replaced by simple parasitism. I refer you to the title of this essay. 

    Now of course I cannot expect you to blindly swallow my assertions on this topic. In fact, you would be a fool to trust anything I say without ample supporting evidence. So that is what I will offer you. Beginning with the purely practical, Webster's dictionary defines devotion as "ardent attachment or loyalty". Buttercup's attachment is undeniable, just like the attachment of a leech to a warm source of blood, but her loyalty is surely dubious. Returning to the dictionary, we find loyalty defined as: "1. Firmness in allegiance, or 2. Faithfulness to a person, ideal, or cause." Firmness in allegiance? Buttercup has all the firmness of Jello. Faithfulness? Around two scenes pass between Westley's presumed death at sea and Buttercup's engagement to Humperdinck. "Eomer," you pipe up, "perhaps she didn't have a choice in marrying the prince!" Kindly get your own essay, and then maybe stuff it up your butt where it can do some good. Do you know how easy it is for a woman to make the life of a man a living nightmare? I highly doubt that Humperdinck could have tolerated Buttercup for long if she was really determined not to marry him. Ladies, please don't take offense at my appraisal of your capabilities. You all know it's true, and besides, I'm too young to die. Returning to the point, it's clear that the word 'devoted' can't even be applied to Buttercup, by simple definition. This does not bode well for the future of this couple. 

    Moving on from semantics, I'll offer an example of an occasion where Buttercup's limpness of resolve is well illustrated. I offer you Westley's struggle with the Rodent of Unusual Size for examination. Westley is jumped by an enormous rat and loses his sword, while the rat begins munching on his arm as an appetizer. I kid you not, ten or twelve seconds pass in which the rat enjoys his meaty snack and Buttercup does, wait for it, ABSOLUTELY NOTHING. There is a sword, a literal razor-sharp killing implement lying not ten feet away, and when our stunningly impotent heroine finally swings into action, she does not seize this bringer of death and deliver swift damnation to the creature, as any self-respecting female lead would, but instead prods it feebly with a stick, as if trying to take its temperature. Don't believe me? Watch the scene, and try not to get puke on the couch. Tell me honestly, are those the actions of a devoted lover? Excuse my sarcastic eyerolls. I hope we can agree the answer is no. 

    Another wonderful example of Buttercup's limp-noodle love is her wedding to Humperdinck near the end of the movie. Does she attempt to strangle him with her veil? Feed him the rings? Perhaps go full murderbride and jump him from the altar? The answer to all of these is no. She simply goes with it. This walking embarrassment to truly devoted couples offers no resistance of objection as she calmly marries the man who betrayed and tortured her 'true love'. How quickly her mad devotion fades when actual stakes are introduced. For just a second, let's consider the female half a different couple, Eilonwy from the Book of Three series. If she was in the middle of marrying the greatest enemy of her true love, would she go along with it? Any of you who have read this series know that the answer is indisputably no. Buttercup stands out among the host of couples proposed for the Silmaril as maybe the only woman who would quietly marry her lover's greatest enemy. How, then, did she win the award? 

    Westley is possibly the best example of a devoted man that I could offer you, and so it is truly tragic that he is burdened with such a weak-willed, useless, disloyal, undevoted counterpart as Buttercup. Truly, the man deserves better.

    I hope you have enjoyed my little rant essay, and I hope that perhaps your mind may be slightly swayed and your perspective slightly changed. I also hope that you admire how well I evaded any evidence that contradicted my argument. Then again, I hope a lot of things, many of which do not come true. If you feel the need to violently dispute my views in the comments, please refrain. I will have you silenced if I have to. [Sam interjection: Please do dispute his views. I want to see what happens.] With that, I wish you a very profitable existence, may you be of use to me someday, and goodbye.