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Chapter Nineteen

Day Four Hundred and Twenty

I was happily freaking out while curled up under my covers when Nimhel came in.

"Candes, are you alright?"

"Yes," I said, "Perfectly fine."

She did not believe me, and she was not going to let me mope all day. No, she had a job for me.

"You speak a dialect of Westron similar to the ones the halflings speak, so I thought you should offer to show those who will not be attending to any business tonight around Rivendell."

I sort of died a little bit at that point. Because seriously, that is an awful idea. So obviously I accidentally accepted it without thinking.

Well, I was thinking. I was thinking that I needed to stop acting like a spaz. And that I didn't want to have to explain that I was going to be a standoffish bitch to the hobbits because I didn't want to be around them when I knew exactly how sucky their life was about to get.

Gosh, what am I going to do?

Day Four Hundred and Twenty, Later on

Remember when I was trying to keep Gorvon from realizing I loved him and basically acted like a dumb walrus? Well, my acting skills have improved. Possibly because Erestor pulled me aside before I was off to tour and told me "If you reveal anything, you risk all of Middle Earth."

How does he know I'm risking things by not saying anything? Maybe him and Aragorn have been chatting.

But I managed to make polite conversation with the two hobbits as I showed them around the house. I dropped in all of my usual haunts, but they seemed most impressed with the kitchens. I decided to be a show off and whipped up my world-famous onion soup and pizza rolls.

As we were eating, they talked about the Shire. Well, the people in the shire. Their friends, family... to be honest, the overwhelming homesickness got me over my fear of misspeaking.

They seemed to notice this, however, and began to ask more about Rivendell; what were the elves like (elvish.) Did everyone have a specific job or did everyone do everything? (Everyone has a job, but it's one they love doing) how does one get used to living with elves? (You Don't. One never gets over being treated like a five-year-old with scissors). How you tell ellons and elleths apart? (You just pray that you're right about whether or not that's a dress or a robe).

To be honest, I forgot all about the council until Glorfindel walked up to me tonight at dinner and asked to speak with me.

He asked me to tell him what decision had been reached, and I did. And then I cried. He just patted me back until I calmed down.

I think I'll try to sleep now.

Day Four Hundred and Twenty One, Early

I woke up when Lýthril slapped my face to stop my hysteric screaming. I don't remember what I dreamed about, but I was in tears and shaking. Lýthril seemed very worried and insisted I talk to Elrond or Mithrandir this morning, so I'm getting ready for that.

I just have a few flashes in my head; not visions, but feelings: a burning pain, this smoky scent... something with a cold blade... I keep on replaying those images to keep from forgetting them.

Day Four Hundred and Twenty One, Later

I spoke to Mithrandir about my dream. He thinks it may have to do with the ring and plans to look into that, though why would I not have had a nightmare earlier if that were the case, since it got here days ago?

But things get worse. On my way to breakfast, I ran into Boromir. Yes, that one.

"Excuse me," he asked, "Could you direct me to the dinning hall, I seem to be a bit lost..."

gosh, diary, he was so friendly. And kind.

"Were you the girl who had the nightmare earlier?" he asked, "You seem a little shaken..." I let him think that was that. That it was the nightmare, not, you know, him.

"Did I wake everyone up?" I asked, blushing.

"Oh, I am sure you did not. I am just a very light sleeper."

I realized then that he did not know I knew who he was, so I asked.

"I am Boromir, son of Denethor, Steward of Gondor."

I acted very impressed and flabbergasted. Admittedly, it wasn't much acting.

"It is an honor to meet you," I said. Then, of course, he asked about me, and I unloaded my cover story. He was very saddened by this.

"I will do what ever is in my power to try and find your family, if they are, indeed, from anywhere near Gondor," he promised, even once I told him they were most likely Rohirric.

"From what I can tell with all of these dwarves and men gathering here, you have more important things to focus on." He just smiled sadly.

I felt bad leaving him alone to eat, so we had breakfast together, during which he told me about places in Gondor, and it was nice, but once we were done I high-tailed it out of there.

The worst part is, I really like him. He's so kind and amiable and friendly. But he's also a dead-man-walking. And I already know one to well to cope with this.

Sorry for the long wait. AP test week is approaching, so updates are going to slow.

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