IMPORTANT NOTICE: If you have not read the revised version of chapter 7, please go and read it before you continue. If you continue without reading it, it will be severely confusing in future chapters. Thank you.

Do you remember singing in the shower as a kid? Well, in Middle Earth, if you ever come to be in my position (which I'd hope nobody bears the fate of), you take hour-long baths (because you hadn't had one in forever) and make life decisions. Or you brood on the things that had happened.

I brooded on that dust I got a while back. Obviously the dust will do something spectacular, and the time that is right must be some sort of extremely challenging moment for me...

I knew I had to get out of the bath, so I slipped out of the water and wrapped a towel (yes, they did have towels) around my body and stepped into my room. Privacy is not in a Middle Earthian's vocabulary, apparently. Because Maewyn was immediately by my side helping me get some ridiculous corset on. The dress itself was fine, plain and un-extraordinary but the corset… my God it was a tight fit. I'm not the skinniest model, you know.

Today was an important day; why else would I be wearing a dress? I was to see the princess today, explain why I was here and what I knew about, probably, the Fellowship or the war. Personally, I just hope Grima isn't the creepy rapist that fanfiction makes him out to be. That's not the way I'd like to spend my "when the time is right" dust.

Let me tell you something that you should already know, if not, have you read the last fourteen entries? I am not good with first impressions, or getting people to like me, or living beings in general. So as I make my way up to the great oak doors that is the entrance to the palace, I can feel the sweat on my neck and my hands shaking uncontrollably.

I walk along the stone path that makes an echo in the empty hallway. The throne room is large with pillars and empty space. Stone steps led to the single throne occupied by a sickly looking king Théoden, hunched by the king was none other than the rat- or perhaps worm suits him better- named Grima Wormtongue. On the other side of the king stood a pretty woman with blonde hair and a broken smile, Eowyn.

Reminding myself I was in the presence of royalty, I scrambled to bow. Then remembering that bowing was a man's position and curtseying was a lady's, I tried to cover it up into a rather pathetic curtsey. I never exactly went to finishing school thank-you-very-much.

"My lord and lady," I addressed them, "You have called for me?"

"Indeed," Eowyn spoke up before Wormtongue had the chance to, "it is not everyday a lady is brought here by my brother, grievously injured too."

"We are quite curious," said Grima. "Yes, like why were you injured?"

In my mind, I was screaming. "BECAUSE THIS IS WAR!" But out loud I said, calmly. "For reasons I would like to not discuss." Nobody needed to know I was stalking young hobbits and old orcs…

I think Eowyn took it a different way because she slightly gasped and looked at me with wide eyes. "Are you okay?" She asked.

"Oh yes," I assured her, "yes. I'm very fine. The healer Maewyn has done a wonderful job."

"Where are you from?" Grima said; interrupting our little conversation.

I had practiced my little story, "I am from Bree."

"And what is happening in Bree?" Théoden said, in a thin raspy voice not of his own.

"Trade, visitors; people come in and stay and go about their lives. You rarely see the same hobbit more than once they say. And that's true." I went on. I kept this act of innocence and ditzyness. It threw people off and kept my true history well protected.

"Yes, that's wonderful and all," said the least bit interested Wormtongue. "But has any dark things gone on?"

"Well," I decided to be purely annoying now. "There is a rumor that the price of fish will go up a coin but other than that, only ringwraiths and rumors of the One Ring at the Prancing Pony. Of course that was back in September." Grima's face showed pure hatred directed towards me.

Eowyn, who I knew was trying not to laugh, said. "Grima, I am sure you and my uncle have business to discuss. How about I take this young woman for tea?"

Grima, still glaring at me, spat. "How lovely."

When both Eowyn and I were out in the hallway she burst into a tentative laughter. "The last one to get on Grima's nerves that like was my brother! And not to pry, but why did you come here on Eomer's horse?"

I didn't know actually, from what I can tell, Eomer saw me where he slaughtered the orcs and decided to save me from death. But that was before Aragorn and Legolas and Gimli meet with him, so how come I was not in the care of them?

"He rescued me in a chase with an orc." I told her.

"Why would you ever fall under the misfortune to be in one's presence?" Eowyn gasped.

"I am quite peculiar, dear princess." I smiled. "Because my injuries happen to be from that specific chase and from this specific dagger." It just appeared next to me in the bed yesterday morning. Either it was rescued by Eomer as well, or Galadriel used teleporting magic. Eowyn looked rather pale, so I dropped it.

We go into a small room with a table and steaming tea on a tray. My cup is poured; I add a lump of sugar. "Tell me princess, does Wormtongue ever do you wrong?"

Eowyn paled drastically, "No." She immediately answered, but it did not sound like the truth.

"Princess…" I said.

"No!" She snapped. "The matter is closed."

"I am sorry," I said. "What would you like to talk about?"

"Well," Eowyn blushed. "There is this rather cute castle guard…"

I do not own Lord of the Rings. Well, me and my good writing friend Arknox443275 spent all one night making a complete layout of the rest of this story, so hopefully that will cancel out my writer's block excuse. We're still debating on one part but that's not 'till the end so we're not worried.

Summer vacation just started for me and Ark so I'll be writing and posting a lot more.

~Olympia