Dear Diary,

Night has fallen, but so much has happened today that I know I shall not sleep until I write it down. I'll probably might get raked over the coals tomorrow for the burning my candle to the stub, but I'm sure Sir Wilbur can well afford it.

Sir Conan knows who I am.

We were eating breakfast – a slightly burnt porridge – down in the common room. I don't know what kind of night he had, but he snapped at me to pass him an apple – as if I was a serving wench! If he had asked politely, I might not have lost my temper. (I had a rough night too. I swear there are mice in these walls…) I pitched the apple to him across the table and caught him full in the face. He's such a lousy catch! Thinking back, his look of surprise when the truth (after the apple) struck him was rather funny. Not at the time though. He was speechless, and I used that chance to dash up to my room. When he didn't come immediately after me, I thought I was safe, which is why I started my earlier entry. Two lines in, and the door of my room burst open. I nearly fainted with fright.

"You're no fairy!" he had announced, "You're that girl from the village!"

At least I had the presence of mind to shut the door behind him. I was shaking in my stockings as I turned to face him, but seeing his anger, the exact same expression as the first time we met, I got mad. Anger does wonders to banish fear.

"And you're no knight," I replied, "You're that kidnapper from the village."

For spur of the moment, I think that was rather good – I got the parallelism. It was one of the few times that I've actually managed to come up with a clever rejoinder right when I need it.

We got into a shouting match and soon, I found out that he hadn't told anyone about his failure to 'rescue' a damsel. I have now become a blackmailer – oh, how my mother would despair of me. More accurately though, we've come to an agreement; my true identity will be kept a secret since it would be of no help to either of us if the truth was found out. We clasped hands in a pact and that was it. Sort of anticlimactic really.

We're a wary team now, he doesn't want to go on a pointless quest any more than I do. He agreed to accompany me to the apothecary to see if there was something we could use as a love potion. Perhaps we can stage something. I tried to convince him to take me to the blacksmith first but he wasn't that obliging. I think that after being hit twice by me, a mere village girl, his manly ego likes to see me in chains.

We wandered around town for a while, trying to find the apothecary. I will admit that he isn't that bad of a companion now that I don't have to be constantly watching my back. Also, he may not be much of a knight but that sword at his belt certainly helps a girl feel safe. People have been giving that sword and us wary glances and wide berth.

We found the shop around midday – it smelled like my cellar. After I gave him my request, the shopkeeper leveled a funny look at me. Asking for love potions cannot be that unusual a request. At least I knew they don't really exist. But he didn't say anything. He scanned the shelves then plucked a suspicious looking bottle near the bottom. When he handed it to me, he had a smirk on his face. "Not a love potion, but it will do." I got Sir Conan to pay (it wasn't as if I had any money) and he wasn't too happy about shelling out three coppers for the bottle.

It's sitting on my bedside table right now. I have no idea what this is. I would have asked but the shopkeeper disappeared into the back for luncheon without answering me. Perhaps I should test it on someone… I would pick Sir Conan but with my luck, it'll make him 'fall in love' with me. Maybe I'll drop it into the drink of one of the other knights. The gruff Sir Walter looks like he needs a little romance. I don't think his face can accommodate an expression other than a scowl. It should liven up my trip.

My candle is starting to gutter. The other things in my day don't seem as important now that I'm feeling sleepy. Ah, time to call it a night.

Author's Note: My longest chapter yet...but that's not saying much. When I finish this (and yes, it is a when) I'm going to stick a few chapters together. Having the description say 85 chapters might be a bit daunting for the new reader. Is that a hint, you say, am I going to have 85 chapters? No, I doubt I could sustain this for that long. How much longer will this be? I have no idea. As I said at the beginning, I'm making this up on a chapter by chapter basis. It's like a real diary - you have no idea what's going to happen tomorrow. This is an exercise in writing on the fly. I'm going to have to find some way to twist the plot back to fulfilling that list. But how...