I was standing in a large feasting hall, a window by my side, showing warriors battling and people being slaughtered. War had begun.
The Great Master of All Land, Rawnblade the Great, was sitting in a throne.
I bowed, my little Dwarf beard scraping the floor.
'Prince Caspian,' the Lord rumbled in a friendly tone but yet quite stern, 'As you can see the land is in turmoil.'
I glanced out of the window again. Yes, he was right... an army was struggling to reach the castle which I was standing in.
I turned back though, not wanting to watch the death any more.
Rawnblade reached behind him, and pulled out a shortsword.
'This is Rawnblade, named after my existence,' he told me. 'Peace shall reign through the land soon enough, Prince Caspian. If you wait, watch, and learn, the sword Rawnblade shall serve willingly under you. If you say wise words and do not take ssides, my Spirit shall follow you. Follow the path of Hope, my son, for everything shall work out in the end.'
In saying so, the Great Master threw the glimmering sword Rawnblade.
I stretched up to catch it, but as I felt its hilt in my hand I awoke, clutching a sword with golden letters engraved in the gold: RAWNBLADE.
Prince Caspian

Penned by my hand on the 12th of Phaestian, in the year 218 AF.