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Tirian had thought – or he would have thought if he had time to think at all – that they were inside a little thatched stable, about 12 feet long and 6 feet wide. In reality they stood on grass, the deep blue sky was overhead, and the air which blew gently on their faces was that of a day in early summer. Not far away from them rose a grove of trees, thickly believed, but under every leaf their peeped out the gold or faint yellow or purple or glowing red of fruits such as no one has seen in our world. The fruit made Tirian feel that it must be autumn but there was something in the feel of the air that told him it could not be later than June. They all moved toward the trees.
How The Dwarfs Refused To Be Taken In, Chapter 13 The Last Battle