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Owacyn had remained sedate for the party, quite content to sit and watch others enjoying themselves. He had drunk a reasnable amount of ale, and his vision was starting to swim slightly. He reclined on his chair and looked at the party going on around him. Smiling, he permitted his eyes to droop, and close.
He was running across Pelennor, closing on Minas Tirith. He was smiling, and he could see his wife holding his child up on the battlements. He ran harder, straining to see if it were a boy or a girl. He got ever closer, and he could nearly pick out the face of his child, but he tripped, falling, the floor opened up to swallow him and he was falling, crying out.
He woke with a jolt, receiving concerned glances from all over the table. He breathed heavily before muttering "I'm alright...just a dream".
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