Miröwen was walking though the lush gardens of Rivendell with King Elessar, and Arwen, his Queen. The moon was full, and the two elves were talking, while the King walked silently behind. All was peaceful, and for the first time, Miröwen did not feel confined by the elvish city.
Then suddenly Miröwen was crouched behind the smouldering wall of a burning barn. An army of Orcs and Wildmen were swarming through the little village in the Westfold. Men, women, and children were running in for their lives. A loose horse, reins trailing dangerously between it's forelegs, careened past Miröwen and into a group of fleeing Rohirrim. Many horses and men lay dead or dying upon the ground, hearts and necks pierced with the poison arrows of the Wildmen. In the midst of all the chaos Miröwen's eyes landed upon a woman and her two children. One of the children had fallen, and the mother stopped and was going back for her. Unnoticed by the woman, an Orc had also spotted the helpless child, and was swiftly bearing down on her, intent on killing them both. Miröwen loosed an arrow into the beasts neck, and then two more into it's chest, but it kept running. Miröwen leapt up, sword drawn, and sprinted towards the child, but the Orc reached her first, and killed the mother and child before her eyes.
Then Miröwen was standing amidst fallen buildings that had once been Hobbiton. The scene was similar to what had just passed in the Westfold. Again she arrived seconds too late to save a life, this time of a young hobbit boy. The reek of blood and smoke filled her nostrils and Miröwen swayed, and the earth spun. Long fingers of darkness crept across her vision, until the world around her went black. The screams rose to a piercing wail of just one voice.
A shudder ran up the length of her spine and Miröwen opened her eyes.
