Limwen awoke with a start and her breath came in fast and uneven gasps.
"Lady Limwen, are you well?" asked one of her Gondorian guards.
"I am fine," she answered, "just a dream."
"You need rest, my lady." advised the guard of Gondor, "we have a hard day's ride to Edoras ahead of us."
"Yes, I shall rest." Limwen sighed as she sank back onto her sleeping pallet.
"It was just a dream…" she thought to reassure herself.
But it was more than just a dream. It was the same dream that had plagued her for weeks. It was always the same. A figure clad in dark green and cloaked in shadow and rain stood in the midst of battle. The figure screamed at her in a language which she hadn't heard anyone speak in a long time.
"Run Limwen! Save the others! Save yourself!"
Then the figure would turn their bow onto an oncoming figure carrying a torch. Then there was always a huge explosion followed by her screams.
"Ladies of Gondor should not have such dreams," she scolded herself.
Limwen was the eighteen year old daughter of the most trusted advisor to the Steward of Gondor, Erurainon. Her mother had died shortly after giving birth to her in Lorien. Since her mother was an elf-friend, she wanted to her have her baby where she was most comfortable and where she was surrounded by the best elvish medicine aside from Lord Elrond's skill. In the end it had not been enough to save her mother from meeting her end and Limwen somewhat resented the elves because of it.
Lord Denethor, Steward of Gondor had no daughters of his own and an alliance between Rohan and Gondor was desperately needed. Her father had offered Limwen to be betrothed to King Theoden's son Theodred. Denethor thought highly of the idea and sent one of his errand riders to Edoras with his proposal to which Theoden greatly approved. Limwen had left for Edoras one year later. "Be brave, Limwen. Mind your manners and make Gondor proud." Her father had told her with no hug goodbye.
Like any daughter of a nobleman she accepted her fate with dignity and grace on the outside. On the inside she was screaming. She did not like to be bartered like some head of cattle. This was the third time she had been betrothed and something always went wrong with each of them. These dreams weren't helping ease her stress. She wanted to know badly who the figure was and what they meant to her. Slowly she fell into a light doze pondering these things.