I think I've forgotten what it means to feel warm, forgotten what it is to feel rested, or well-fed, or comfortable. Worse, I've forgotten what it means to feel hope. Not that I had much hope left this morning, when we rode over the crest and saw the armies of the Enemy as thick on the Pelennor fields as mold on old bread. And now my dreams are foul and full of the bitter truth. There is no Elrond here to heal me now. I can hear Pippin crying nearby.
I swore to follow Theoden King, and soon I shall.