Here ends the Silmarillion; and if it has passed from the high and the beautiful to darkness and ruin, that was of old the fate of Arda Marred
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Can you make it so I never existed -

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I don't want to talk with them.

 

 

Are - are you going to change that -

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She keeps working; she puts the interpreted version of what she's up to in readable thoughts for him but doesn't impose it.

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He pays attention. It's better to know, even if it hardly has to be true. 

 

 

And he tries to think of another way she could help, if she wanted...

 

...could you make me forget everything? My entire life?

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I could.

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Do you happen to know what it's like, if you do that - would it be like ceasing to exist or not -

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I've never done it before; I don't know.

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Work work work work.

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Did my family ask you to do this?

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Not exactly.

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And eventually she's running out of stamina for the day. That's as much as I can do in one sitting.

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I'll be back tomorrow.

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And she goes.

 

She's back the next day.

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Hello.

She gets back underway.

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He would panic at being in someone's presence but he can't. He tries to keep track of his head. Not that he really can, not that it matters, not that she couldn't take that too.

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She lets him. She'll help, if the outside view helps.

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