But I'm too weak for italics now. I should have fought and died in Barad-dur. And now I have no self-respect left. While talking to the one and only Dark Lord for the first time I already had visions of domestic bliss--of Sauron and myself, together with Samwise and Frodo, all living at Bag End in peace and harmony and it would all have been perfect. I know I'm not right in the head, really, and my heart's certainly not made for this world.
I hope the infection takes me sooner than later. It's getting colder, isn't it?