ON THE EDITING ROOM FLOOR: BINGO BOLGER-BAGGINS
This is the kind of clear, crisp day when you want to be sitting high up in a solid tree reading or writing in your journal, and that's exactly what
I am doing now. Up here, I always feel like I'm in a beautiful scene that didn't quite make it into the final cut of a movie. This was one of my favorite places to hide out when I was just a hobbitling, though I do see many more dead branches about than I had remembered.
I fasted and meditated for most of the day yesterday--I needed to find my center again after events of the day before really. Once again, I succumbed to violent means, and even though it seemed like the right thing to do at the time, I considered no alternative courses and there's the rub. At least there was no bloodshed this time. But surely grabbing my sword and running is not the first thing I should think of! There are other ways. And then seeing the Ring take Sam like that, it made my heart heavy to see him so. But all is back to normal there it seems, and the Valar relented from their little games and restored my brother's sight, so it is a better day.
On a lighter note, I am so delighted that Cousin Estella dropped by the other day. How fortunate that she has risen above such a narrow upbringing; I think we shall become good friends. We had a delightful chat and I do think she will be a splendid help to me in getting the project off the ground as well.
I do need to go over to Trotter's soon and have a talk, but I'm dreading it, you see. He's been a guide and mentor to me, a colleague, a friend I could count on, but now he's being my yenta, my babushka, and that pushes a good thing a little too far. That DNA test was a little much for me, and I need to tell him so.
About my project . . . what's that cracking sound? OH SH . . . .