Sing the past to me, 'cause I'm the one who wrote the song,

I made it up next week, so all the words will come out wrong,

The past won't keep you warm tonight, the future's blown to bits,

And everything that you believe is really full of-

FITZ: It's all his fault. All the impossible heroic bullshit, he does it. So you try to do it. You try to be a hero, and it blows up right in your face, because you're not him. I try to be Frodo, and the best I can manage is - well, Sam.