Disclaimer: I do not own LotR
Notes: I am so incredibly sorry for neglecting this story for so long. Due to some circumstances in my personal life, I was unable to wright for a while and have only recently gotten back to it. I sincerely hope you all haven't abandoned this fic, as I hope to keep updating as often as I can.
I know this chapter is short, I'm just trying to get back into the groove of things.
Chapter Twenty One
I am so sorry for not having written in just time. It's just come to be that not writing has been much more therapeutic than actually facing my emotions.
The fellowship left today, I saw them off. I mostly bid goodbye to Boromir and Kali, as they are the two I've grown closest too.
"I wish you could have met Gorvon," I told Boromir, "He would have liked you."
"Don't despair," Boromir answered with a smile, "I may meet him yet."
He didn't question the sad look in my eye. I wonder if maybe he knew, perhaps as well as I did, that he would likely not return.
The only other goodbye worth describing, in that it was not generic, was Sam's. Needles to say, my Onion soup had won over the fellowship as well, and so yesterday, I took Sam to the kitchen and taught him how to make it.
"Now, Sam," I told him this morning, "you must remember that if any of these men return knowing that recipe, I will gut you like a fish."
I think it's a testament to Sam's character that he seemed offended by the very idea of giving away my prized recipe.
And then, they were off. I tried to take comfort in knowing I would see them again.
I ended up sobbing in Erestor's office.
But I suppose I should update you on the last few weeks.
I spend most of my time learning as much as I can in a desire to be useful. After the war, this world won't heal itself. My healing is coming along as well as it should be. I am neither a fast learner nor a slow one. But I have managed to incorporate massage techniques into some of my work, which Celegeth assures me will be of use. My cooking has finally been deemed "very good, for a mortal", but my musical and artistic skills have gone nowhere.
Other than that, I just spend my time with whoever is around. I'm not picky.
God, do I miss Gorvon. It's not an ever-present need for him, like the romance novels would tell you, it's just I find myself wanting to hold his hand, or hug him, or share a thought with him, and I notice he's off, doing heroic things, while I am stuck here.
I think I'm going to cry again, now.
I will write more tomorrow.
I know this was short, I am so sorry for that, hopefully the next chapter wuill be actually substantial.