[Formendacil]

Formendacil woke up on Day 3 of the party with nary a clue as to how he had got there. The last thing he remembered was someone (Hilde? Hilda? Hildebrand? No... It WAS Hilde somebody-or-other) putting down his Bombadil theory.

He also seemed to remember something about the Barrow-wight, but he was Morgoth if he knew what it was...

Then he remembered that he hadn't taken his nighttime insulin the night before, and discovered to his disappointment (but hardly surprise) that he was rather hyperglycemic.

So he headed off to the washroom to inject a few cubic centimetres of Humalog into his system.

While he was there, he took a good long look in the mirror, noting that he was definitely in need of a shave- and a night's sleep in his own bed. However, his shaver was back in Fornost, and his sword was too unwieldy.

Whatever, he thought. Surely I can manage a dashingly-rugged Aragorn look. Or, rather, a slightly-rumpled Denethor look.

That thought was not altogether encouraging, so he returned to the party in search of food and distracting thoughts!

"Give us a song, Hookbill!" he called out, wanting to stir things up. Somebody through the chip-bowl at him.

Hey, it's food! he thought, digging in.