(written in trembling hand)i know what day it is now

im so scared.  i dont understand.  its been over a month i swear to it. i spent a week and a half with finarfin. but my shoulder hurt so bad…it was like the witch king’s icy blade was twisting in me.  i was outside when it hit, on the beach, smoking.  id thought it was over.  that id been here so long, it would never come back.  it was worse than ever, though, i blacked out at the pain, came to wet from the sea spray, crusted with sand.  i tasted blood, my nose was bleeding, it was all over my shirt. took forever to walk up the little sand dunes to the cottage, staggering like i was drunk.  didn’t make it any closer than to the gate.  bilbo and gandalf found me, carried me in. they told me today that i raved all night about darkness and cold…and the ring.

 i still cant eat anything, not even hungry.  my shoulder hurts when i move but, i have to write this.  im so scared ill forget if i don’t. if i could imagine what i have…had to imagine it, oh, what if i didn’t?…then i could forget anything.  merrypippinrosiesamelanor.  but, i can remember all those nights with elrond and celebrían and sometimes galadriel would visit.  theyd tell tales that had been long forgotten in middle earth, i remember that, don’t i? i couldn’t have made it up.  could i? i don’t even know any of the elves in them.  never heard of them. i couldn’t have imagined songs in language i don’t even speak.  i remember finarfin…maybe there’s not even a finarfin.  maybe i never rode into the village.  maybe there isn’t a village.  oh eru, if there aren’t any of these things then pleaseplease let me wake up in bag end. please.  

i know why the stars don’t move and its always warm.    its october the seventh…ive only been here eight days.