*sits at the writing desk, folds and seals a letter, writes a name on the outside, and puts it aside, pulls out another piece of paper, dips his pen and starts writing, stops and puts down his pen*
I just can't do it anymore. I can't goonlike . . .
*watches as his fingers fall one by one upon the page before him, hears the sound of raucous hobbit voices gathered around the fire outside*
. . . this.
*no blood is dripping as he examines his digitless hand*
