I miss you very much. The Rohirrim hasn't killed me yet or anything because apparently the King's mother is too coked up to care to murder me or anything, and the King is more nervous at the prospect of my presence than anything else. She made me eggs. They were quite good; I forgot what eggs tasted like - I hadn't eaten them in a long time. I have this grating feeling that I'll have to refrain from eating for the next couple of days to lose the weight that the eggs gave me, but that's okay. Éowyn has let me stay in the den for the time being, and there's a tv here and everything. I watched the E! channel and saw all the thin models on the catwalk and everything. That was interesting. My hand is becoming infected, I think. It's turned a rather greenish colour which I gather isn't a very good sign but it's ok.
I hope you're alright. You've been through so much already and I'm sorry that I was stupid enough to contribute to your stress like this. I'm so sorry for everything.
I hope I'll get to see you soon. I love you.