I don't think Aragorn liked my stew. At all. He was, as always, a perfect gentleman, and he said he liked it, but I think he was just trying to spare my feelings. Because that's the way he is.
He's still carrying a torch for Arwen. I can tell. How can I compete with telepathic elfsex? Also, I'm pretty sure she's better at embroidery. Elves, with their "Ooh, look at me. I'm an elf. I can walk on snow, and I'm more dexterous than you, and also I'm immortal. And I'm totally hot, if you like that Eurotrash thing where we bleach our hair but not our eyebrows."
Well, mustn't weaken. Uncle still needs me. Note to self: bring hobbit.
I think I'm better at shield-maiden than stew, actually. A woman has to know her limitations. I can live with that.
This is all making me really, really cranky. I think I'll feel better if I put a sword into something. Preferably Wormtongue, but I'll take what I can get.