InsaneJournal

I woke this morning with strange memories. Well, perhaps not strange - there are good memories and fell ones indeed! But they are ones I did not have yesterday when I lay down to sleep.

My father is dead. This is a grief from which I shall never heal. But the King has Returned! And proving himself to be so, saved me from the Black Breath. Minas Tirith is safe; Sauron is defeated, and Elessar sits on the throne of Gondor, the line of Elendil restored at long last.

And I, I am his Steward, and the Prince of Ithilien, titles that should have been Boromir's, but because of such sad circumstances, have fallen to me, the youngest. I never expected or deserved such honors, but I shall do my best to earn them.

And Éowyn! The golden sunshine to brighten all sadness, for who can despair when one beholds such beauty and strength, such nobility and bravery in one woman? She is more than I deserve, and I am not the one she yearns for, but perhaps I can make her happy, nonetheless.

Are these memories true? Are they indeed, memories, and not simply flights of fancy? Uncle?