"I'm sorry, Niniel...I did not wish for you feel uncomfortable..."
She shook her head. "You did not. I--I...i-i-it is something I--I must come t-t-to terms with. I--I have no past but wh-wh-what I make for myself. I--I'm almost used t-t-to it n-n-now. It's been n-n-nine years," she added softly. Nine years of trying to find her name, of running from the nightmares. Nine very empty years.
She shook herself out of the memory with an effort. Dwelling on her lack of a past was a sure way to have a dream that night. She'd learned that the hard way. It was almost as if another sat there, telling this stranger what she did know of herself. Yes, she knew his name, but little else. She never used to be so trusting, but the Shire and the folk she'd met there had changed that. First the little hobbit, then the others. Especially Soronume.
She was glad of it, though, for in the old days, she would have found herself fleeing in from the Inn and all of its patrons--well, after she picked their pockets.
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