It had been eventful day. Likely the most eventful day since the weeks following her arrival in Bree. What started as a relaxing and joyous evening with her new-found friends Rowena and Lowenna at the Prancing Pony soon turned into a moment of earth shattering proportions. A strange woman calling herself “Susan” said she had a friend with a present for Daisy, urging her to meet him at his camp outside Bree to receive it. It took considerable convincing, and a sketch showing the likeness of a younger-looking Daisy, but the women agreed to meet him the next morning. Gathering their courage and some supplies, the three friends set up their own camp in a copse of trees outside of town, laughing, speculating, and telling stories into the night. Finally, Daisy succumbed to sleep, but was visited by a dream she had had often, but not for some time....
A book laid open before her, illuminated by candlelight. The pages were filled with words, though all indecipherable in her vision-like state. She closed the book, placing it on one of the many neat stacks of similar tomes arranged on the table. Opening the next book, she found rows of numbers, written carefully, with different shades of ink, but always shifting in value as she looked from one column to the next. The following volume held writings in a foreign tongue, familiar yet still unreadable. This too she added to one of the growing towers of books.
Books surrounded her. The entire dark room was filled with books, some dustier than others, but all neatly arranged. This quiet, lonely state she accepted as her entire existence, until a light caught her eye. The light was clean, warm, inviting, so unlike the stifling confines of her candlelit room. It shone from down one of the hallways of endless books, from an open door leading outside. Gazing towards the light, a sourceless wind flipped the pages of the mountains of books around her, causing fluttering pages to swirl around her in a whirlwind before cascading down to the floor.
Now she was outside, the transition having been seamless and perfectly rational. The sound of fluttering pages was replaced by the steady flow of the wide river before her. She looked out upon it, breathing in the air, so fresh and sweet. She could feel the warmth of the sun on her back. A contented smile graced her face, though not induced from the pleasant surroundings, but from realizing a hand was on her shoulder. The hand was strong, yet gentle; rough from hard work, yet comforting. She smiled broadly and turned to face the owner of the hand, and shifted.
Now, she was moving down a path, at a swift but steady pace. Sunlight filtering down from above, through leaves of trees she could not identify, cast the scene in a hue of gentle green. She felt happier than she could ever remember, elated at the prospect of what they may find ahead of them, though at the back of her mind lurked a nagging worry. Suppressing that, as she had done so many times before, she couldn't help but let out a cheery laugh at their near-perfect circumstances. She turned to face her companion, whose supportive hand was still on her shoulder. Always there.
Instead her view shifted to look behind them on the forest path. In the distance, an object grew ever nearer. It was dark, and gaining on them far quicker than should be possible. Soon she could make it out; it was a barrel, wide and crafted from a reddish-brown wood nearly bursting out of its iron bands. The barrel bounced towards them fiercely, as if driven by covetous anger and greed. They ran, her companion's hand holding hers, pulling her along protectively. Still she looked back, fear consuming her. No matter how fast they ran, the barrel bounced closer and closer. It was almost upon her. The barrel filled her vision, bouncing one last time to come crashing down on her. She opened her mouth to scream—
Daisy awoke with a start. She had that dream again. Inches from her face she could see the inside of the tent cloth, occasionally being illuminated by a flicker from the dying fire outside. She resisted the urge to roll over and check on her two friends sharing the tent with her, lest she disturb their sleep any more than her own fitful dream may have already. Still, she reached out and brushed the rough fabric draped before her, reassuring herself that this was indeed reality, and not another disturbing dream. Tomorrow, with any luck, she would finally learn the answers to the many questions that had plagued her the past year. She would finally learn who she was, how she came here.
Maybe, just maybe, she would finally remember.
She smiled, comforted by that last thought, and drifted into a deep, dreamless slumber.
