DAY FOURTEEN:
I got too close to the campfire and singed my foot hair. Very unattractive. Good thing there's not a girl within about a hundred miles, give or take a thousand. We're heading toward the Misty Mountains. That means that not only will I starve, but I'll freeze too. Lembas are getting really old. Sam's made them fried, broiled, baked, steamed, and stewed, and they still taste the same. The snobby elf keeps trying to use me as a foot stool. He got mud and leaves all over my hair and in my ears. Again, very unattractive. Oh, well, at least I comb my hair, unlike a certain ranger I know. Merry's being a bore. He wouldn't even dress up like monsters with me so we could try to scare Frodo (still moody, by the way). Well, I'll try to get some sleep now. Of course, Gandalf will probably get some brilliant idea to start traveling again in the middle of the night.
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Soli Deo Gloria
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