In Titanic, Hill played Captain Edward Smith, one of the only characters based on a real person, and in the Lord Of The Rings franchise, he was Théoden, King of Rohan.
Actor Bernard Hill, who delivered a rousing cry before leading his people into battle in The Lord Of The Rings: The Return Of The King and went down with the ship as the captain in Titanic, has died.
Hill, 79, died on Sunday (May 5) morning, his agent Lou Coulson said.
Hill joined the Lord Of The Rings franchise in the second film of the trilogy, 2002’s The Two Towers, as Théoden, King of Rohan. The following year, he reprised the role in Return Of The King, a movie that won 11 Oscars.
In one of the film’s most memorable scenes, Hill’s character fires up his overmatched forces by delivering a battle cry on horseback that sends his troops thundering downhill towards the enemy and his own imminent death.
“Arise, arise, riders of Théoden!” Hill hollers. “Spears shall be shaken, shields shall be splintered! A sword day, a red day, ere the sun rises! Ride now! Ride now! Ride! Ride for ruin and the world’s ending! Death! Death! Death!”
My husband threw all my paintings away. I decided to give him a real lesson now
When I discovered Tim had thrown away my paintings, it felt like a piece of my soul had been ripped away. Each stroke of paint, each color combination, each image on the canvas represented hours of joy, frustration, and fulfillment. But to him, they were nothing but “junk.”
A Moment of Realization
That evening, exhausted from work, I decided to revisit an old painting that I believed had more potential. The idea of reworking it filled me with a rare excitement. However, my anticipation turned to horror when I descended into the basement, only to find it empty. The walls were bare, the shelves clean, and my paintings—gone. I stood there in shock, a cold sense of loss washing over me. How could he do this? How could he erase a part of my life so carelessly?
Confrontation and Anger
I stormed upstairs, fury bubbling inside me. There he was, lounging on the couch, engrossed in a football game, a bag of chips in hand. “Tim! Where are my f***ing paintings?” I demanded, my voice shaking with rage.
He glanced at me nonchalantly and said, “Oh, honey, relax. You should be thanking me for taking out that junk.”
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His dismissive attitude was the final straw. I exploded in anger, yelling at him, but he remained unbothered, barely acknowledging my distress. It was clear he didn’t understand or care about the pain he’d caused.
The Plan for Revenge
As I stood there, seething, a plan began to form in my mind. If he could so casually discard something that meant so much to me, then he deserved a taste of his own medicine. I decided to retaliate in a way that would hit him where it hurt the most.
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The next day, I waited until Tim left for work. Fueled by a sense of righteous indignation, I methodically gathered all his cherished belongings—his prized football memorabilia, his vintage record collection, even his favorite recliner. I loaded everything into the back of my car and drove to the nearest charity shop. Watching the workers unload his precious items, I felt a twisted sense of satisfaction. Let’s see how he likes it, I thought.
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