The room was fading, darkness surrounding his thoughts. Flashbacks of his family, back in Gondor, they were much younger in these memories, alive even, he could almost touch them. A faint smile came over the old mans face.
His thoughts turned to those in Bree he had met, all of them living life, not a care in the world for Penlard, why would they? He had been gone for weeks, months even. The darkness grew.
'My feet, my legs, I can't feel them', he whispered to himself. He tried to move, his body was being stubborn, no movement. Years of battle, swinging his heavy sword against the Armour of his foes and now his body wouldn't do as it was told.
A tear fell down the side of his wrinkled face as he lay motionless on the floor. A quiet room, the sun seen setting outside through the window, Penlards eyes closed slowly as his head faced the window, he took one last deep breath....a life of adventure seemingly coming to an end....
The door flew open, a shadow stood, a mans voice was heard faintly through Penlard's ears, 'You're not dying on my watch, old man!'...
