Sleep does not come easily to me. I am an Elf. We don't sleep often, and if we do, in very little doses. It is hard to reach a certain point when we can dream. I did not sleep for a long time when I joined the Fellowship. Our minds had were so full of pressing urgency that we never had a good night's sleep, only dozing fitfully and wakened for watches.
The Halflings, I think, were the only ones to sleep well. The younger one, I think Pippin was his name, told me they can sleep almost everywhere. I believed him after one night where we were stuck by a river and all night the gushing of the water interrupted my sleep. Pippin, however, not only slept, but snored.
The Dwarf snored louder than a thousand Wargs, but I chose to ignore it. After all, he is one of us, and I should trust him. I should not shun him just because of his race.
Estel, forgive me, Aragorn, was the one who needed the most sleep, yet he took the most watches, and when he did sleep, it was haunted with nightmares. I heard him say Arwen's name once. She was my childhood friend, and I promised her I would watch Aragorn.
Boromir slept very little. I have to admit I felt suspicious of him. He will always eye Frodo, the Ringbearer, with a look that made me touch my knives. But he was a hardy man, so I relaxed my guard.
Mithrandir, or Gandalf, did not sleep. You should think I was worried, but he is a Wizard, after all. But the lines in his age-carved face were growing deeper, and I can't help but wish he will get some sleep.
Then came Moria.
We reached Lothlorien with no trouble, but our hearts were still sore. Aragorn will not speak to us, only in commands. The Halflings expressed their grief openly. Gimli I found dabbing his eyes and he made me swear I wouldn't tell. Boromir threw himself into doing the dirtiest work for us, as if he could atone for Gandalf's death.
Me? I knew grief firsthand. I have spent nights tossing on my bed, unable to stop the flow of tears. I have spent days brooding in the forest, shooting my arrows into the branches, trying to bury the pain.
But this was entirely new.
Lothlorien is the first time where we get a good night's sleep, and we made use of it. The Lady Galadriel gave us assurance that we will dream tonight.
I did. I dreamed of red hair, fiery eyes, and a warrior's embrace. I dreamed of a last battle, a blade piercing the warrior, almost extinguishing the fiery eyes. I dreamed of a silver ship, taking the warrior's red hair and fiery eyes to the land where the sun never sets and where sickness never kills.
I dreamed of her, and I dreamed that I went to be with her.
A/N: This is more of a crossover between the Hobbit and the Lord of the Rings. This is obviously Legolas' perspective during the Fellowship of the Ring. The person he's dreaming of at the end is Tauriel if she got wounded and was sent to the Grey Havens.