The Gathering-In, or The Quest of the 24 Messengers.

[Aradaewen]

Pippin smiled and let his head droop again. He slipped back into the elvish style of sleeping and letting the horse (or pony) do all the walking. He was a smart stallion, and knew their mission. In Pippin's dream, the skies were blue and there were many trees. Golden sunlight slanted through the leaves of upper foliage. Pippin grinned in his light sleep; this wasn't the first time he'd had this dream.

He walked along a dirt path through the woods and soon came upon a quaint little cottage. Outside, a young hobbit-wife with brown hair and a green dress, rocked a small child to sleep, singing an elvish lullaby. The child's elven nanny stood inside the door, peeling potato's at a small table.

In a few moments, a tall, strapping hobbit strolled into view, a young deer slung across his shoulders, satisfied with the day's hunting. The woman wrapped the child in its blankets, set in on the chair, and ran to her husband. He embraced her, but released her quickly as a sharp crack! sounded behind them.

An old tree had fallen right on the young couple and even farther onto the house, crushing all three adults. The child had mysteriously escaped injury. Three more elves raced into view and did what they could for the people, but they were all of them dead. As they set fire to the house and its deceased occupants and turned to leave, they heard the baby's wails. As they turned and picked it up, the dream faded...