A few hard days of marching from Edoras will bring you to Gondor, but we moved at leisure. The weather was fair and there was much to see. We crossed many a lofty mountain and rushing stream. We were a merry party, and though we were preceded by scouts and protected by soldiers, we sang and laughed without a care. I can hear it all still. There was the creak of saddle leather and jangling of bits, the plodding and clopping of horses' hooves. One could hear two or three languages spoken at any given time, the deep voices of the men blending with the higher, softer voices of the women. Then there were the nature sounds. The wind, the water, the bees flying about, and the joyous songs of the birds: all wove about us a spell of contentment. At night such jolly times we had. When our pavilions were pitched we gathered round the fires and danced and sang. I hear such marvelous tales.
One night, after our singing and feasting, I went to rest in the large tent that I shared with Éowyn and three other women of our company. I wrapped myself in a blanket and lay on my pallet. Sleeping on the ground was a novelty to me, and one that I never learned to enjoy. I tossed and turned for a while before falling into a restless sleep. A dream was not long forthcoming, and it was one that branded itself into my mind with its terror.
I was once again at Spruce Haven, sitting on the front porch of the house. Beside me sat my sister, and standing near her was her fiancé. It was before the war, then. We seemed to be watching the sunrise, and I anticipated seeing our horses galloping over the eastern pasture. But as the sun rose in silent majesty, its scarlet rays illuminated a fearful specter.
It stood with its feet planted firmly apart and faced us menacingly. It was clothed in the garb of a Continental soldier, but wore a hood of black. Its right hand rested on a pistol at its hip, but its left held a saber. In the glow of the sun the sword glinted red and its tip pointed toward the south. As I watched, men poured from the North, East, and West; and lined up behind the pale specter. I saw childhood friends and respected neighbors answer the figure's silent call. My sister's beau kissed her hand then moved to specter's side. The men began to march and as they did frightening the figure looked back at me. For one moment I saw fully beneath its hood. No lineaments were therein. It was a viscous skull. Its eyes glowed like rubies. As the light of the sun moved higher in the sky he lifted his sword in salute. I saw that it was not a saber. The figure carried a scythe. He was none other then the Grim Reaper. He sneered and moved to the side. I gasped as I recognized one fellow at his side. The tall boy with curly brown hair and pale studious face, I knew him as well as my own father. I must warn him of who he followed. I jumped from my seat and ran toward him.
"Robbie! Robert" I screamed, but he could not hear me. My brother lifted a gun to his shoulder and marched to the south following the Grim Reaper. The scene faded away and I heard a sinister laugh from old Death. Now I stood on the copse behind my home. To my front was the house, and smoke rose about me in choking clouds. Something like thunder rumbled about me. Death's laugh turned into agonized screams. When the smoke settled I saw all around me disfigured corpses and three tombstones. Try as I might, I could not get close enough to them to read the inscription. I lost all control of my body. I saw strangers enter my home. They carried what seemed to be dead men, but I soon realized to be sick or wounded soldiers. Then the thunder began again. I turned to look behind me and faced a man dressed in gray. He lifted his gun and pointed it at me. Another crack of thunder drove me back. I was falling to the ground. I hit hard.
I woke up to rain falling outside the tent. And tears on my face.