*clutches the phone with a death grip and squeezes her eyes shut, pretending you're there next to her to fight off the faceless demons instead of in Ossiriand, far, far away*
*all halting, tremulous little bursts* At. At the ball. There was a man. He was wearing Tuor's mask and Tuor's costume and he had the handkerchief that I... *shakes her head (this is too hard) but finally forces herself to continue* I called him Tuor and he took me away and...and we...we... *blinking back fresh torrents of tears* But later Tuor came and he said. He said he wasn't at the ball. He wasn't at the ball, Glorfindel.
*digs the fingers of her free hand into her thigh, worrying her flesh (and she cannot tell you (how could you understand, even if I could say the words?) how she ran away from her beloved, how she hid in her room and thought the tears would never stop, how she took shower after scalding shower and scrubbed her skin raw and still could not get clean)*