The first time, it was a dream, terrifying in its clarity: an angry river, an overturned boat, two hobbits floating. It drove him to his parents' bed for three nights after. He'd only begun to believe their reassurances that it was just a nightmare when he'd come upon that very scene on a stormy summer afternoon.

Years later, long enough that he thought the dream mere coincidence, it happened again. No dream this time, but rather the unquestioning certainty as he took his leave from ailing Aunt Dora's side that he would not see her alive again. At her funeral feast, he wondered who might be next, and what cruel twist of fate granted him the ability to foresee death.

It had not occurred since, though he dreaded when it might resurface. But now... he found himself grateful for the glimpse into his own future. Sam's dogged insistence they would return failed to comfort him as the certainty of his death did. The nightmare would end; he would be free. It was an encouraging thought.