So then came the day of our birthday party, with poor, dear Iorhael all nervous about such gatherings, but it all went well, excepting for a little tension with Smaug and Drogo's odd proposition. Even the residents of Plastic Town attended. Even Elanorelle. I think Ivy indulged a little too freely in Folly's fine home-brew, but the Tooks looked after the lad. And I do not know when Primula or Uncle Sennie and Tiger retired. Still, a'maelamin and I were quite happy with how everything turned out.
So today is a new day. And a new worry has descended upon me, for I have learned that Melkor has sent Damien to Smaug for tutoring in the ways of evil-doing, of which I know Smaug is quite capable. And I cannot help but mourn this, for the Damien I spent time with seemed to have benefited greatly by his father's negligence and took little after him. But now, I doubt he will be the child I became fond of when next I see him. And this worry weighs heavily because I seem to have become quite attached to the child, more than the time we spent warrants, dear child though he be. And I suspect it has something to do with the fact that I am carrying about an extradimensional room I made specifically to suit him on my Muse-ish shoulders. So I think it is high time I dissolved this room, this Pocket Realm, and perhaps remake it as something to suit my own needs later. It's simply a matter of concentrating . . . this unmaking . . . much like the making of it was . . . and I am concentrating . . . there . . . . oooowwwgh . . . . . . . .