Disclaimer: this is to say I am not responsible for the changes I make in the series the Lord of the Rings
While I am a mad fangirl, sometimes I use it to channel my inner demons, which the viewer can find out.
Chapter One
While Sam, Merry and Pippin were going back to the Shire, I was all for staying back in Gondor. I needed some time for me. The Queen said she didn't mind and Aragorn always seconded her wise judgements, because she was his wife and an elven maiden, far more clever than a mortal man.
However, the main conflict here were Sam and my cousins, mostly Sam. Merry and Pippin would complain it wouldn't be the same without me, while my best friend fiercely maintained that 'a master does not go anywhere without his servant'. But in the end, I had managed to convince them to go, because, they all had something look forward to. Someone or something waiting for them.
Merry and Pippin each had their families, and Sam had his girlfriend Rosie, and there was just no point staying back just because I was. They had sacrificed enough for me, and besides, I'm one of those people who are more comfortable doing things alone, not to mention, I have some things I need to take care of.
I offered to be there when my friends departed home, but Sam refused to speak to me at all. Despite that, I kept the reassuring smile on my face at all times, and only let it fall when I was alone in my bedroom. Aragorn had agreed to give it to me instead of letting me go to the trouble of getting a rambling old house which... just did not suit me.
However, I couldn't blame my friends. I needed and wanted them, but in my heart, I needed to deal with this alone. I had so many wounds to heal, both physical and mental. The Morgul Blade wound would never heal, but there were some scars from the whip marks of orcs that would disappear if I let Aragorn help me apply the salve every night.
At the same time, I felt like a burden. This wasn't a new feeling. So I got myself together and signed up for a journalism and literature application and became both a journalist and an author. The work was very tough and kept me busy almost day and night in the first few weeks. I loved to write and read, but I knew at once that this was something I couldn't handle ; with the frequent nightmares of Heand It. It was just so much.
I've read about self-harm and depression, but I never recognised it in me until when I started to cut during the phase of stress and couldn't stop later on. Dark thoughts came popping into my head out of nowhere. Thoughts like, you're so weak. You're not good enough to take up two careers altogether. You're a burden to the King and Queen. And many more.
There were some nights where I was tossing and turning in my sleep, either feeling too hot or too cold from change of seasons or terrifying dreams of my friends rejecting me when I was old and frail and needed help desperately.
Have I made the right choice? I wondered as I watched the moonlight seeping through my window.