Disclaimer: I do not own LotR

Notes: Thanks for the reviews! My Beta took a little vacation, so sorry for last chapters grammar, hopefully this one will be better.

Also, as one reviewer pointed out, the language is taking a while for her to learn; bear in mind, she's only been in ME a little over a month. Also, the language is entirely foreign, and she's surrounded by bar-folk and peasants who use varying, inconsistent, accented, and altogether improper dialects. Finally, this is her diary- she doesn't feel the need to recount every word she learns. If and when she learns Elvish, I plan on writing in some translations, as there are a few reliable sources for that. Westron is more difficult to come by.

Chapter Three

Day Forty Nine

Small miracles- Gorvon is being pleasant.

He apologized- or as near as I can figure he apologized. I know how to say many forms of 'forgive me' and 'excuse me', and he seemed to be using them. What he was saying otherwise I don't know, but he didn't ask for his cloak back.

Rose gave me a pretty white hair ribbon today, and a tight hug. Doris and Sheila also seemed to be a little misty eyed...no clue as to what's going on.

Day Forty Nine, night

Got a Clue. Mildburg stormed into my room and demanded I place all my belongings in a small leather pouch. When I was taking to long, she did it for me-

She did not give me the blue dress, so I have only what I am waring- a thin shift, a heavy white over dress with a patch on the elbow, and a gray-with-green-tint over-dress apron like thing. She took you and my pen and stuffed you in as well. They she threw in a bar of soap, a cheep comb, my new hair ribbon, and my old pajamas.

She refused to explain what was going on even as I chased her out of the room and to the stables. Damn, that woman is fast for a crone.

I put the pieces together when I saw her hand my possessions off to Gorvon, but my protests were ignored.

The stable boy, Joe, waved at me as Gorvon piled my things onto a horse.

Mildburg said- well, as near as I can figure- "Your own issue from here," and Then, Once Again, Gorvon hoisted me up onto the saddle.

It felt kind of like old times.

While riding away, I called to Mildburg, "Nice to be rid of you," and then that fun word I love so dearly. Of course my grammar was probably off, but Joe burst out laughing and Gorvon coughed a little.

It all seems rather unfair- should I not get a say in where I go? True, I would probably ride off with Gorvon over staying in this dump. But still. It's the principal of things.

Day Fifty

Half the way to a hundred already?

I don't know what to do with my feelings about this.

Gorvon had been trying to help my speaking. He has been talking to me very slowly and deliberately and correcting the order I say some words in, and my pronunciation. He has also been helping my vocabulary, pointing to objects and telling me their names.

I thanked him and he looked very confused, but nodded.

I thought about my family today. I didn't want to write about them until now, as I don't know quite what to say.

My mother is named Shannon. She manages the local branch of a bank, she wares gray suits, and her shoes are always heels. When I was little she would let me walk in them despite my father rolling his eyes and pouting. My dad, Robert, did that a lot.

I kept on thinking back to when I got my rejection letter from UVA. My mother was disappointed, and she just shook her head and dealt with it. My father didn't speak to me for two weeks. I guess we didn't get along very well.

My little sister Melanie and I fought a lot. She always took my things. But she was a good sister- she would cover for me when I went to parties and would agree to walk to school on days when I needed the car.

I wonder how they're feeling without me.

Day Fifty Three

Got into a fight with Gorvon.

He was badgering me about learning the language and I snapped and said "Damn this stupid language, and damn you!" it was in English so he couldn't understand me, but he got my tone and was very huffy.

I was trying to hold out- I'm not by any means a part of the Gorvon fan club, and I didn't want him to think he'd won.

But today I felt very lonely, because I realized that he must not like me at all, if he can go this long without talking to me. I wanted to say "screw it!" but I don't want Gorvon to hate me, because then anyone who may have even slightly liked me will be miles away.

So I approached him. I believe our conversation must have gone something like this;

ME: Listen, I sorry

HIM: *looks confused*

ME: I not want to say damn you, I just not ... good

HIM: what?

ME: *after looking frustrated and flustered* I sorry. About said.

HIM: About said?

ME: about me. What I said.

HIM: Oh. No matter.

Nothing else was said about that, but tonight he left the rabbit in the fire for a little extra time, so it was burnt at the edges. Perhaps he doesn't hate me.

Day Fifty Four

Gorvon helped me up onto the horse- who is named Millroch, I have learned- nicely today.

Out grammar lesson was uneventful until I had to use the bathroom, and he taught me some more polite terms for it than those I had been using.

Day Fifty Seven

I have worked out the date today. It's the twenty-seventh of October. I have been here almost two months.

In other news, the scenery is changing from greenery to a more mountain-y scape- but still full of trees.

Day Fifty Seven, Night

Gorvon showed me how to spell my name in whatever language he speaks. It looks pretty.

But he's been getting more serious as we go on, shooting me odd looks and being very pensive. I'm slightly worried.

Day Sixty Two

Gorvon is growing odder daily. We barley speak except to go over language skills. Not that we ever spoke much, but this is strange.

I asked him if he was alright, and he just smiled, so I knew he wasn't. He never smiles much, at least not to me.

I've been wondering if maybe he has a family, a wife, children...he is a little old, but not overly so. I wonder if maybe he has a younger brother that annoys him or if his mother badgers him abut getting married or if he likes to till bad puns to his family. Since he only seems to know the moody, obnoxious side of me, perhaps I only know that side of him?

Back when I was in elementary school and didn't fight with dad so much, he told me that peoples personalities don't change, but their attitudes do.

I hope that's applicable here.

Day Sixty Eight

I have not had much time to wright. We have been walking a lot, and the terrain has become definitely rocky. We seem to be going through mountains.

Not much has changed, except that I feel a very sudden homesickness. I had the strangest craving for green-bean casserole just now. Cooked woodland-creature-on-a-stick is getting old, however good of a cook Gorvon is.

Oh, he allowed me to help him cook. It was not as fun as baking bread with Melanie but it came out OK, Gorvon ate his entire share.

I felt proud; it was my first time accomplishing something other than cleaning or serving beer since I arrived.

Day Seventy

I feel civilization closing in...but, where?

I have not given too much though to where my journey ends...

Day Seventy Three.

I am in Rivendell. I think I may have cried when we got here- elves are beautiful. I can't properly describe them. Their cities- sorry, homes are stunning as well. I can't even properly put into words what I'm feeling.

So stunning that I fainted. I hope this isn't becoming a habit.

I have just woken up in a clean, silky sheath, with only you beside me-

wait, I think I hear someone- more later-

Sorry for the long delay and short chapter... I tend to write slower when lacking reader response.