Hands of a fool (for rabidsamfan)
(November 3019, Bag End)
The floor is covered with heaps of garbage, and someone has smeared words on the wall, words I can't read. Not that I really want to. They look ugly, and I'm pretty sure they read ugly as well.
I nearly didn't dare to walk into the study, and when I did I was more than thankful that we took all of Mr. Frodo's books to Crickhollow – even though we knew he would never read them there.
Under the badly scratched desk, hidden between the folds of the ruined carpet, lay a book we must have forgotten. Pages were missing, and those who remained were covered with ink blotches and nasty doodles, as if coming from the hands of a foolish child.
He has suffered so much I couldn't prevent. But this I can. I will keep him from seeing this, I will burn it as soon as I have cleaned the fireplace in the parlor and managed a proper fire.
I wouldn't be able to bear the look in his eyes.