Character: ...erm, the earth
Warnings: this one's a bit dark
Disclaimer: Tolkien's, not mine
In predawn stillness, I listen. Slumbering poppies rustle, petals drawn against the chill night. The wind sighs and eases, catching its breath from the night’s long foot race.
Then far off -- a horn. Distant thunder – not quite heard but felt. It thrums, rumbles, then crashes into wails, cries and horses’ screams. Metal clashes -- clashes then sinks into softness as blood leaps and spatters with bittersharp tang. Husks fall hollow to my embrace.
Then all is quiet again, though the poppies still tremble.
And I begin my work, so one day you may ask, “What was this place called Pelennor?”