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White

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Nightfall

She had never worn a full suit of chain mail for such a long period of time. Heavy, bulky, and constricting, it slowly sapped her strength. But it was necessary. On the Pelennor fields, her white dress would have been a death warrant, attracting the enemy's arrows and offering no protection from the missiles of reality.

Merry tightened his arms around her waist as they rode towards war, his heart beating against her back. She could sense his fear, so strong it was a tangible force – yet she felt no fear herself.

She would fight for her Uncle and her brother – men she loved and wished to be. Her night had fallen.