Disclaimer: Sadly, the only thing I own in this entire story is the character (and plot). I do not own the Lord of the Rings, or any other Middle Earth related object (sadly). Enough said.
Just so you know, this is my first ever fan fic (go me!) so if I mess something up, please just let me know!

It began during my sixteenth year. My first dream told me it was something different. At first, I dreamt of flowers, and fruit trees. One figure that seemed to be a prominent symbol in my dreams that night was a beautiful, white tree, with white flower petals falling gracefully from it.

Then, I dreamt of destruction, of fire and war and death. The tree died, before my very eyes. For some reason, I felt great sorrow at its loss. But then, in it's place, a golden ring took up my vision. I saw thousands of people, all living under the shadow of this dreadful, strangely compelling sphere.

I saw a castle, and I saw two men, who acted very close. One of them, the darker of the two, left the city where the tree had once been, and rode to a beautifully forested place. It seemed more peaceful—safe there, though I could still sense the disturbing ring.

I saw this man gathered with a strange collage of men—some tall, fair, and graceful, with long hair and pointy ears; some short, with unruly hair and hardened faces. I saw several men, and I saw a short, curly haired, furry-footed child—who, as I watched, I realized was not a child at all, but rather a very small man. They seemed to be discussing something—a ring, the same that had been demanding my attention earlier—and they burst into an argument about it.

While they argued, the strange little man stood and shouted something, which silenced everybody. They discussed something a little while more, and then several of the people who were there gathered in a group. Eventually, there were nine people. They set out somewhere, and I watched them go on their journey.

When I woke up that next morning, I could remember every detail of my dream, crystal clear, except for the faces of everyone, but the dark-haired man who I first had seen. For the next six years, I dreamed of this man and his companions as they traveled, through mountains, and caves. The leader, an old man died, and they met up with more pointy-eared guys. They set out on a river, using boats, which appeared to have been granted to them by these strange men.

I had these dreams nearly every night, and I knew that there was something special about the dark-haired man, who played such a prominent role in my sleep. I somehow knew we were destined for each other, even though I had no idea who he was, and though he appeared to be from a totally different place, where short guys and old guys with magic and pointy eared guys ran the world.

On my twenty-third year, I was driving from college to my mother's home, for our annual Christmas party. I was at a four way stop, and a truck was turning in front of me. I watched, as if in slow motion, as the truck hit a patch of ice and skidded towards me. I couldn't get out of its way, and it slammed into my car. Then I blacked out.

When I woke up, it was to the sun shining in my face and I heard a bird singing in the trees. Were am I? I wondered. I could smell smoke, and what I thought smelt like bacon. I opened my eyes slowly, and sat up. I immediately regretting my decision as blood rushed from my head and a painful dizziness overwhelmed me. But I forced myself to stay up, and take in my surroundings.

I was in a clearing; surrounded by beautiful trees, which's kind I had never seen before. To my right there was a fire crackling, and a curly headed man was crouched next to it. He must have felt my stare, for he looked over at me, standing to his full height. My eyes widened in disbelief—he was one of those short people I dreamt about! Behind him, I noticed three other little guys like him. They stared at me, apparently as startled as I was.

Then I heard a gravely voice slightly behind me. "Sam," the voice said, "has our guest awoken?"

The short guy who had been cooking, Sam, I assumed, nodded. "She has."

"Well," the voice said, "why doesn't someone go find Aragorn, let him know? He'll know what to do with her."

Two of the other short guys spoke up, then. "Merry and I will go find him," one of them said. They ran into the woods, leaving me alone with the two short guys and the voice. It was then that I saw it. I was looking at the two short guys, and I noticed a shiny object hanging around his neck.

I narrowed my eyes, focusing on it. It was a ring, like the one that haunted my dreams. I fell back, catching myself with my hands, a cold dread squeezing my heart. I gasped for breath, and turned my head, trying to erase the ring from my sight. It seemed like its image had been burned into my sight. I tried to reason with myself, saying that it was just a piece of jewelry, no reason to get upset, and even though my words made sense, I could not reason with myself to release it from my memory.

I heard voices in my subconscious, but I failed to register them. I know not how long I wrestled with my nightmares like that, but then I felt a hand on my shoulder. Somehow I was able to come around by that touch. I moved my head towards the hand, and I realized that my eyes had been gripped shut.

I opened my eyes, and stared…into his face. "It's you!" Dimly, I heard another strange voice say, "She talks!" But I didn't turn towards the new voice. His face transfixed me. It was the man I had always dreamt of—my destined.

"Miss," he said, his voice the kindest, warmest thing I had ever heard, "Miss, are you alright?"

I nodded, aware of an acute pain in the back of my head. "Uh-huh," but I wasn't sure that was true. I had found him—the man of my dreams! (Literally!)