Fezzik Character Analysis

“I just feel better when I know what's going on, that's all,” the Turk mumbled. “People are always thinking I'm so stupid because I'm big and strong and sometimes drool a little when I get excited.”

“The reason people think you're so stupid,” the Sicilian said, “is because you are so stupid. It has nothing to do with your drooling.”

“I can feel him,” Fezzik said. “His body weight on the rope.”

“He'll never catch up!” the Sicilian cried. “Inconceivable!”

“You keep using that word!” the Spaniard snapped. “I don't think it means what you think it does.”

He might also have whispered heavable thievable weavable but that was as far as he got before the Sicilian started talking again, and that always meant he had to pay very strict attention. Nothing angered the hunchback as quickly as catching Fezzik thinking. Since he barely imagined someone like Fezzik capable of thought, he never asked what was on his mind, because he couldn't have cared less.

“I understand everything,” he said.

“You understand nothing, but it really doesn't matter, since what you mean is, you're glad to see me, just as I'm glad to see you because no more loneliness.”

“That's what I mean,” said Fezzik.

“Down is our direction, Fezzik, but I can tell you're a bit edgy about all this, so, out of the goodness of my heart, I will let you walk down not behind me, and not in front of me, but right next to me, on the same step, stride for stride, and you put an arm around my shoulder, because that will probably make you feel better, and I, so as to not make you feel foolish, will put an arm around your shoulder, and thus, safe, protected, together, we will descend.”

“I wish I could remember what it was like when I was dead,” the man in black said. “I'd write it all down. I could make a fortune on a book like that. I can't move my legs either.”

“Fezzik, I need you,” Inigo screamed.

“I'll only be a minute,” Fezzik said, because there were some things you did, no matter what, and when a friend needed help, you helped him.

We've traveled a long way, you and I, from when Buttercup was only among the twenty most beautiful women on earth (because of her potential), riding Horse and taunting the Farm Boy, and Inigo and Fezzik were brought in to kill her. You've written letters, kept in touch, you'll never know how much I appreciate that. I was on the beach at Malibu once, years back, and I saw this young guy with his arm around his girl and they were both wearing T-shirts that said WESTLEY NEVER DIES.

Loved that.

“I just feel better when I know what's going on, that's all,” the Turk mumbled. “People are always thinking I'm so stupid because I'm big and strong and sometimes drool a little when I get excited.”

“The reason people think you're so stupid,” the Sicilian said, “is because you are so stupid. It has nothing to do with your drooling.”

“I can feel him,” Fezzik said. “His body weight on the rope.”

“He'll never catch up!” the Sicilian cried. “Inconceivable!”

“You keep using that word!” the Spaniard snapped. “I don't think it means what you think it does.”

He might also have whispered heavable thievable weavable but that was as far as he got before the Sicilian started talking again, and that always meant he had to pay very strict attention. Nothing angered the hunchback as quickly as catching Fezzik thinking. Since he barely imagined someone like Fezzik capable of thought, he never asked what was on his mind, because he couldn't have cared less.

“I understand everything,” he said.

“You understand nothing, but it really doesn't matter, since what you mean is, you're glad to see me, just as I'm glad to see you because no more loneliness.”

“That's what I mean,” said Fezzik.

“Down is our direction, Fezzik, but I can tell you're a bit edgy about all this, so, out of the goodness of my heart, I will let you walk down not behind me, and not in front of me, but right next to me, on the same step, stride for stride, and you put an arm around my shoulder, because that will probably make you feel better, and I, so as to not make you feel foolish, will put an arm around your shoulder, and thus, safe, protected, together, we will descend.”

“I wish I could remember what it was like when I was dead,” the man in black said. “I'd write it all down. I could make a fortune on a book like that. I can't move my legs either.”

“Fezzik, I need you,” Inigo screamed.

“I'll only be a minute,” Fezzik said, because there were some things you did, no matter what, and when a friend needed help, you helped him.

We've traveled a long way, you and I, from when Buttercup was only among the twenty most beautiful women on earth (because of her potential), riding Horse and taunting the Farm Boy, and Inigo and Fezzik were brought in to kill her. You've written letters, kept in touch, you'll never know how much I appreciate that. I was on the beach at Malibu once, years back, and I saw this young guy with his arm around his girl and they were both wearing T-shirts that said WESTLEY NEVER DIES.

Loved that.