The sun rose the day after the Eglain’s victory over Ivar’s horde.  The Eglain, however, slept in, believing they had earned a little rest.  The sun was already riding high when they awoke.  Berethron and Lilly did not awake until nearly ten o’clock.

They made their way to Radagast’s chamber.  Once there, they began to discuss their next move. 

“Radagast, how do we determine Ivar’s purpose here?” Berethron asked.

Radagast stared down, stroking his beard.  “This land was the site of many battles in the past. Some say the swamp takes its name from the blood of fallen Men that stains the earth red.  But my knowledge of the swamp’s history is limited.

“I do know of a man named Aric, a wise man of the Eglain, though only by reputation. He is a Stone-speaker, a scholar who studies the stones and collects knowledge from their markings. Aric knows much of
the local lore.

“Travel to him and ask for his help. He currently dwells south of here, beyond Talath Gaun, down in Harloeg. He may provide us with the knowledge we seek.”

Lilly asked, “Where is Harloeg?”

Radagast responded, “Harloeg is another swamp that you will find on the other side of the road.  It stands opposite to Haragmar.  I should warn you, although the swamp is not red, it is haunted by wights,
much like Haragmar.  I believe Ivar intends to command the creatures of both swamps; indeed he may wish to conquer all of Talath Gaun.  This would give him many advantages:  the Eglain would be defeated, the
swamps would give him command of an army that could spread east and west, and the road, and the Last Bridge southeast of here, would be under his control — and thus, under the control of the Nazgul.  This
must never happen!  Ivar must not be allowed to carry out his plan.”

Berethron nodded.  “In that case, we should get going.”

Berethron and Lilly set off across Talath Gaun, the eastern part of the Lone-lands.  They crossed the road, and headed south.  It was not long before they found themselves staring at another deep ravine.  They could see another swamp below them, but it had a less forboding appearance, since it portrayed a land of brown and green.

“Wonderful,” said Lilly.  “More swamps!”

Berethron chuckled.  “Relax, Lilly.  We just need to find this Aric.”

They threaded their way down into Harloeg.  Soon, they could hear the chirping of many crickets and frogs.  “How do we find this Aric?” Lilly asked.

Berethron thought a moment.  “I don’t know, but Radagast said he was a ruins-scholar of sorts.  We should probably start by searching for ruins.”

From their vantage point, they could see the ruins of ancient buildings on the far southern side of the swamp.  They appeared to be no more than a few minutes’ walk away.  “Come on, Lilly,” said Berethron.  “Let’s go there.”

A short walk brought them to the ruins.  They looked around.  The ruins had an ominous feeling, and they had a hunch that they were not alone.  Berethron put his hands around his mouth and shouted.  “Hello!” he cried.  “Is anyone here?”

From about fifty metres to their right, a call answered, “Over here!”

Berethron and Lilly ran towards the answering cries.  They found a man standing there.  He appeared to have been studying the ruins.

“Hello, there,” he said.  “And what brings two young people out into the haunted swamp of Harloeg?”

Berethron replied, “Radagast asked us to find a man by the name of Aric the Stone-Speaker, since he may be able to help us in overcoming the threat of evil’s spread in this area.  Do you know where he is?”

The man laughed.  “My boy, I AM Aric!  I’ve been studying the ruins of these parts since I was a boy!

“I know much about these lands, yes.”  He leaned toward them, and lowered his voice.  “Do you know from whence my knowledge stems?”

Berethron and Lilly shook their heads.  Aric continued, “The dead hold secrets…great secrets, terrible secrets. Secrets they clutch to their chests like fire on a winter’s day. Memories keep their hearts warm, you see? No, perhaps you do not see.
 
“But you shall. Oh yes, I believe you shall.” He laughed grimly.

Berethron and Lilly felt a little uneasy at his laughter.  “What kind of secrets do the dead keep, exactly?” Berethron asked.

Aric replied, “You can learn many things from the dead. They have seen this land for many years longer than we.  It only makes sense that they can tell us things that we wish to know.”

Lilly swallowed hard.  “But they are the dead!  And so far the only dead that we have encountered have been terrible wights!”

Aric laughed again.  “You’ve seen the wights haunting the swamps, have you?  They are a mockery of the spirits of Arnor’s men of old, taking their rotting corpses for their own.  I did not speak of wights.  I spoke of shades — the souls of men long dead who are doomed to roam the lands of Arda when their bodies have passed away.”

Berethron’s eyes widened.  “You don’t mean that these shades are cursed men whose souls remain bound to the world when their bodies are dead?  I have heard of such things, but I thought they were only stories meant to scare children!”

Aric looked sideways at him.  “My boy, you have much to learn about the men of Arnor!  I have spoken with them, face to face — not only the Rangers of the North, but also the spirits of Arnorian lords.  Many of them are quite willing to share their secrets, in the hope that doing so will help them go free, away from this world.  But there is one troublesome shade called Emelin that resists all attempts at communication. Perhaps you may succeed where I have not.

“Emelin is…difficult. He is bound by pride and deems the living beneath contempt. If you can prove yourself to him, this might grant enough status in his eyes to lend you aid.

“Beware when you speak to him. He will try and win your trust with pleasant words, then send you off to your doom. You will find him at the ruins of Ost Haer.”

Lilly asked, “And where is Ost Haer?”

Aric replied, “Right behind you…that tomb right there.”  About twenty metres away, a small stone building stood.  It seemed as if a slight mist were coming out of its door.

“Thank you, Aric,” Berethron said.  He and Lilly then walked over to the tomb.

They looked into the door.  It seemed dark, but a glow seemed to come from near the back.  They looked at each other, then entered.

Their eyes took some time to adjust to the light.  However, this proved unnecessary as the glow proved powerful enough to allow them to see.  It illuminated a large coffin-table.  On it was the statue of a dead king. 

Berethron bowed.  “A high lord of Arnor is buried here,” he said.

Then, the glow began to pulse.  A hiss filled the air.  Berethron and Lilly stepped back in terror.  A ball of light came out of the glowing area.  It elongated, then took the form of a man. 

He had no true substance of any kind — he appeared to be made of illuminated mist.  His legs were missing.  And his form appeared to be made of translucent bones.

He stared at them with contempt in his eyes — or rather, eye sockets.  “Thou draw breath and yet thou wish to speak with me? Thou are not like the man Aric. He is stone-wise and knows the secrets of this land. But even he I despise for his ruddy flesh and bright-eyed stare.”

Berethron felt his heart beating hard.  He asked, “Are you the one called Emelin?”

The shade nodded.  “I am.  And I sense that thou art a Dunedan.  For that, at least, I despise thee less.  I am all that is left of a great lord of Cardolan!  My brethren and I cursed to walk the earth as ones of no substance, nor any welcome.  Thou should be glad that thou hast yet honour in this world!”

Emelin looked hard at Lilly.  She quavered.  “And thou…?  Thou art a woman of Bree-land, I sense.  Foolish maiden!  Why hast thou come with this man?  Dost thou wishest to disturb the rest of the dead?  Thou art no Dunedan!”

Lilly felt her senses numbing and her bravery faltering.  Emelin seemed to know more about her than she did herself!  If he could read her mind, what else could he do?”

Berethron asked, “Emelin, can you tell us anything about someone named Ivar Bloodhand?  He has been raising an army of wights in the swamps around here.  And he has brought many lesser guant-men with him from Angmar.”

Emelin hissed in anger.  Berethron and Lilly cowered, hugging each other.  “No one shall curse these swamps while the men of Arnor remain within the Girdle of Arda!  This Ivar has made the greatest mistake of his life!  And it will likely be his last…” Emelin laughed.  He drew a massive sword, more than a metre long, from an invisible sheath.  The sword, like Emelin, appeared to be made of mist.  “Dost thou see this sword?  Once it was like thine, foolish maiden, though far greater.  Now, this wretch Ivar shall fell it pierce his heart!”

Berethron quavered as he spoke.  “But, but Emelin, Ivar is a guant-lord, a servant of the Black Land and Angmar!  His ilk overran your lands long ago.  He is far greater than any soul of our kind — he is a demon!”

Emelin hissed louder and harder than ever.  “How dare dost though belittle a lord of Arnor?  We enbalmed our swords with the power of the Valar, so that the Witch-king himself would be hurt by their touch!”  He bent toward them. 

They could see the inside of his empty, misty skull.  “Wisdom will be thine if thou are proven worthy. Dare thou face my warriors? If thou can claim victory, then I shall help thee upon thy quest.  Fail, and thou shall not see the light of another day….”

Emelin put his sword into its invisible sheath, and it disappeared.  Two more shades, alike to Emelin, melted through the coffin.  They drew their swords.  Emelin looked at each one in turn.  Then he turned to Berethron and Lilly.  With an evil grin he said, “Defeat my men and I will aid thee.”

The shades moved toward Berethron and Lilly.  They stopped right in front of them.  “What have we here, Silithar?” said the one in front of Berethron.  The one in front of Lilly said,  “They are a Dunedan of Gondor and a maiden of Bree-land.  And now they must be put to the test.”  He looked at Lilly.  “Come, mortals!  Either face us or leave our tomb, so that we may have at least a semblance of peace in this world.”

Berethron drew his halberd.  “Do you see this halberd?” he shouted at the shades.  “It was made in the days when our people ruled Numenor!  Tar-Amandil gave it to my ancestor!  It is a relic of far greater honour than you know.  If you will fight me rather than help me, one of your distant brethren, know this:  it will bite your accursed flesh deeply!  It is blessed with the power of those who lived in the land of the Valar!”

The shades looked at one another.  Then, they laughed:  it was a harsh whispering sound that made Berethron and Lilly shiver.  Then, the shades attacked.

They expected their swords to easily pass through any material.  Instead, Berethron’s halberd parried both.  The shades recoiled as Berethron launched his weapon passed through the body of one.  The shade gave a loud hiss as his form bent, then melted to the floor.  The other swung his sword at Berethron’s head, but again Berethron’s halberd parried it.  With lightning speed, Berethron’s halberd lopped off his head.  The body spun through the air, melting through the wall, while the head spun upward, then dispersed before hitting the ceiling.

Emelin stared at the spot where his soldiers had been moments before.  He looked at Berethron.  “Thou have defeated my men,” he said slowly.

Berethron was breathing hard.  He ran his hand through his long hair.  He looked at Emelin as he panted.  “Well, Emelin?  What now?”

The shades reappeared on either side of Emelin.  One had a hole in his stomach.  The other held his head in his hands.  Emelin looked at his men, who were injured even in their living death.  He turned to Berethron and Lilly, this time with more respect in his eyes.  “Thou still draw breath, though ragged and coarse it be. Rest thyselves and harken to me.”

He pointed to Berethron’s halberd.  “Thy weapon came from the third king of Numenor, did thou saist?  Then I apologize.  Thou were right:  it is truly a relic of great honour, and we are proud to stand in the presence of one who is great among the Dunedain!”  The shades bowed in unison.

Emelin spoke again.  “Terrible deeds I have done in the name of kings of eld. While evil corrupted this land, my men and I stood by and did nothing, ignoring our charge. Now the Red Maid serves Angmar…something we swore to prevent. Iarwain Ben-adar cursed us to live as half-dead, such was our failure.

“Dost thou understand? I will help thee to break my curse, but thou must do more to secure my aid.”

The release of Siege of Mirkwood is upon us, and recently, I’ve been thinking on just how beautiful Moria is.  As a matter of fact, I realized only a few weeks ago that there are some portions of Moria I haven’t even seen!  So last night, I decided to go explore the region, rather than spend more endless hours on raids trying to get a good piece of armour.

All the screenshots you see below were taken in Zelem-melek.  As a matter of fact, I took about 80 shots of the area (!!!).  Obviously, those you see are only a portion of all the screenshots I took.  Many of the shots were taken within a few metres of each other.

I’ve got to hand it to Turbine — as terrible as the radiance gate and LI randomness is made out to be, one thing they definitely got right is their visuals.  And all these were taken on Very Low graphics on a low-end laptop (as are all my other screenshots — hey, I’m unemployed here ).

One thing about my screenshot tour — it was a little dangerous.  Unless you’re in the 21st Hall, the area is absolutely crawling with orcs — they lurk around every corner, and in mazes like this, you have to be careful.  Fortunately, they are all level 55/56, so a level 60 (with a level 58 pet) fares pretty well.

These dwarven statues depict a rather scary-looking dwarf.  And they are found throughout the area.

Zelem-melek seems to be an endless maze of passages — I don’t think I explored every nook and cranny, although I did get about a gold from looting orcs …and the occasional treasure chest.

Even the ceiling was ornate!

An interesting thing you may have noticed about Moria — the Upper Regions, Central Levels, and Lower Deeps are not as vertical as they are represented.  However, there is vertical movement within Moria.  There were stairs going through a couple of levels in this section.  Man, I can’t imagine how Durin’s Bane would fit in here….

Yet more mazes, just itching to be explored…

You thought I had moved far?  Well, not really…the 21st Hall was really close by; it’s just that I had twisted and turned so many times that the walking distance was many times greater than the straight-line distance from 21st to my present location.  See my arrow?  In a straight line I was only a few hundred metres away from the 21st Hall.

I honestly think Turbine outdid themselves with designing Khazad-dum….

As fun as it was to fight orcs throughout Zelem-melek, it was much more exciting to confront them within their own camps.  These were more thickly clustered around a massive cavern at the southwestern edge of the area.

And of course, normals 4 or 5 levels below you don’t stand a chance, even when there are three or four of them fighting at once.  It’s like a knife cutting through warm butter.

The area was so beautiful that even the orc camps looked like works of art.

This tunnel was at the back end of the orc camp I’ve depicted above.  It doesn’t lead anywhere; it just goes to an overlook above that huge cavern.  Your only options are to go back, or jump off….

Now this was an interesting area.  It was a huge passage, with two rows of stone columns in the middle.  Facing the space between the columns were massive statues of…axes.

Until last night, I didn’t know Zelem-melek had waterfalls like this.

And of course, more wide, echoing passages….

Like I said, I couldn’t post every single screenshot I took last night.  As a matter of fact, I still think there are some parts of Moria I haven’t properly explored.  It’s been a while since I’ve been to the Silverine Lodes…maybe I’ll go there next :)  It will be sad to leave Moria it’s just so beautiful…even if it did take boring, frustrating grinds to a whole new level….

Well, enough sentiment!  On to Mirkwood!  Hurry up, December!!!!

The sun was setting, letting long shadows spread over Ost Guruth.  Haragmar seemed quiet, but a feeling of evil presence was gathering there again. 

Radagast explained the situation to Berethron and Lilly.  “The sheer number of wights in Haragmar indicates the presence of gaunt-men, vile necromancers who serve the Dark Lord. In ages past, they dwelt in the Witch-realm of Angmar, but the White Council believed them all destroyed. Clearly, they were wrong.

“Only the strongest of the gaunt-men, the Gaunt-lords, have the power to summon the spirits of the Shadow Realm. The war-singers carry the sigil of their Gaunt-lord. Search the ruins in the far east of Haragmar, defeat these creatures, and bring me their sigils.

“We must learn which Gaunt-lord these creatures serve.”

Berethron stared off into space.  He was thinking of their earlier encounter with a gaunt-lord in Othrongroth.  “Radagast,” he asked, “we saw a gaunt-man in the Great Barrow not long ago.  He was a companion of the Witch-king, and the Witch-king came eastward.  Do you think there is any chance the gaunt-man did the same?”

Radagast nodded.  “Indeed.  It is too rash to be certain without further evidence, but it is not unlikely.  It would explain everything that has been happening in Haragmar recently.  I saw the Nazgul pass by no more than a week ago.  And Gandalf told me that they would bring their servants in their wake.

“But alas!  As I said, we cannot be certain.  The leagues between Ost Guruth and Bree are many for those who have no horse, even for one as powerful as a gaunt-lord.  And it would take some time for him to breed an army, even with his power.  We must find out for certain what has happened.

“Luckily, a group of champions and hunters is preparing to depart Ost Guruth on a mission to cleanse a nearby fortress of gaunt-men and wights.  I am assigning you to go with them.  A captain and a guard would be welcome help in that situation.  Come with me, I’ll take you to them now.”

Radagast led the pair out of the tower, and to the gap in the eastern wall that led to the Red Swamp.  A small group of hunters and champions had already gathered there.  They greeted Berethron and Lilly.  “Good evening!  It is indeed an honour to walk and fight alongside a captain of Gondor and his wife.
Tonight we are assaulting our enemy’s stronghold to the east.”

The elven champion pointed across Haragmar.  “Do you see that fortress across the swamp?” he said.

Berethron and Lilly peered into the distance.  In the fading light, it was difficult to see, but less than a kilometre away, they could see the ruins of an ancient Arnorian fortress.  The building had an ominous look.  “Yes, we see them,” said Lilly.

The elf said, “That is the fortress of Nan Dhelu, which the guant-men have taken for their abode.  It is one of the places where they breed their wights and pray to the Dark Lord.  That is why we are attacking it.”

Berethron and Lilly looked at the size of their group.  All totaled, their were only six, including them.  “How can we hope to prevail against an army of undead and demons when there are only six of us?” Lilly asked.

Radagast looked hard at Lilly.  “Lilly, only minutes ago you told me that two of you had half-destroyed, half-humiliated a group of fourteen wights,” he said.  “If two of you can do that, six will surely be more than enough!  And these are knowledgeable men, elves, and dwarves, many of whom have fought off the attacks of the wights.  It is they who should be afraid.”

Lilly looked at Radagast, then toward Nan Dhelu.  Her eyes narrowed, and she clenched her hands, her bow creaking as she tightened her grip upon it.  “Let them come,” she said.  “They will meet their end upon my sword.”

———————————————————-

The fellowship threaded their way down the path into Haragmar.  The sun went down in the west, dipping the Lone-lands into shadow, and casting the Red Swamp into a misty darkness.  The silence was broken only by the calls of bog lurkers, the chirping of neekerbreekers, and the croaking of frogs.

The land sloped upward as they headed toward the eastern border of Haragmar.  The mist parted, but the darkness deepened as night fell.  The fortess of Nan Dhelu loomed ahead, its dark walls rearing up threateningly.

The fellowship crept closer to Nan Dhelu, keeping to the shadows as much as possible.  Soon, they could see the stairs leading up into the fortress’s inner reaches.  But they were guarded by a group of wights and a single gaunt-man. 

“Do you think that gaunt-man will hold any sigils?” Berethron asked. 

A hunter replied, “All the gaunt-men carry the sigils of their leader.  But our mission is to cleanse this fortress of their influence as much as possible.  You will likely have a pocket-full of their trinkets when we are done.”

The elven champion stared up at the fortress.  “There are many gaunt-men in there.  Six at the least.  And at least twenty wights.  We’ll be outnumbered more than four to one.”

Lilly replied, “Don’t worry, we’ve had worse odds.”  She nudged Berethron.

“Yes,” Berethron said with a chuckle.

The elf slowly pulled his axe from his belt.  “Then let us go.”

The fellowship crept to their left.  “Get ready to fire your arrows,” said one of the hunters.  All the hunters and champions got their bows ready, and Lilly did the same.  They would shower their enemies with arrows, hopefully ending the threat upon the stairs before their enemies had a chance to react.

Berethron raised his hand.  “When I drop my hand, fire at will,” he whispered.

 ”Ready?”

“Ready,” all five replied.

Berethron dropped his hand.  “Fire!”

Five arrows whistled through the air.  Three wights and a gaunt-man collapsed to the ground.  The stairs were cleansed of enemies.  “Well done!” Berethron said.  “Let’s go.  But be extremely careful — we don’t want to attract any unwanted attention.”

They crept toward the stairs.  The silence seemed to beat upon their heads.  They almost longed to have a group of enemies come bearing down upon them.  Instead, the silence seemed to press in closer, as if they were being watched by enemies that they could not see.  The fortress seemed filled with sentience and hate.

Lilly stopped in her tracks, and shut her eyes tight.  Her hands clenched and unclenched.  She seemed to be struggling with something inside herself. 

“Berethron, help!” she whispered. 

Berethron caught her as she fell to the side.  “What is happening?” he asked her.

“The fear is overtaking me again,” she whispered.  “Help me!”

Berethron supported her.  “Don’t let it get you; fight!” he said.

Lilly’s eyes fluttered, then opened.  They were filled with fear, but also determination.  “I will not fall,” she whispered.

Berethron leaned down to examine the corpse of the slain gaunt-man.  Around its neck, he found a strange-looking necklace.  It seemed to give off a yellowish glow.  He plucked the necklace off the body, and held it aloft.  “Is this the sigil we are looking for?” he asked.

The elf took it in his hand and examined it.  “It seems to be.  Put it in your pocket, but do not handle it too much!  It is evil.  Once Radagast is done with it, tell him to destroy it.”

The fellowship peered forward into the darkness.  The dark form of a wight came walking around a corner.  Before it could take two more steps, it fell to the ground, an arrow in its head.

“Excellent shot!” a hunter said to Lilly.  She smiled her old sneer that had once filled Berethron with dread.  “Even the wights fear me,” she whispered.

The walked into Nan Dhelu.  Far above, on the higher tier, they could see a gaunt man performing his ritual above an ancient grave.  At the sight, all fear left Berethron, rage replacing it.  “They defile the graves of Arnor’s warriors!” he said.  “This must not be allowed!”

They hurried forward as fast as they dared, keeping to the shadows.  The ancient hallways seemed empty.  They halted at the first set of stairs.  “Draw your weapons!” said the elf.  “We are going to the next tier.”

They crept upward.  A single wight came down.  At the sight of the fellowship, it charged forward, slicing its sword downward.  The nimble elf parried the attack with lightning speed, then slashed his sword across the accursed bones.

The skeleton shattered into innumerable pieces.  “Pitiful, just pitiful,” he whispered.

They walked to the top.  They found that most of the fortress’s second tier was open, allowing a wide view of Haragmar and the lands to the south.  They stared around the fortress tier.  They could see small groups of wights, some of them accompanied by gaunt-men.  A dwarven champion drew his axe.  “Now, we fight,” he said, grinning savagely.

They charged a group of wights standing nearby.  The skeletons reacted, attacking their opponents with their weapons (and sometimes their bare hands).  One wight, its grey flesh still covering its body, vomited a vile slime at them.  They coughed as the yellowish semiliquid covered them.  Berethron quickly brought his halberd crashing down upon the wight’s head, splitting its skull.  The wight fell, dead once again — and this time for good.

A shout rang out — they had been seen.  A massive swarm of wights, gaunt-men among them, ran toward them.  “Kill them in the name of Ivar!” shouted a guant-man.

The fellowship fired several arrows at the approaching horde, causing several of them to fall.  The rest raised their weapons above their heads, intending to slice them down upon the heads of the fellowship. 

Berethron held his halberd above his head with both hands, parrying two swords at once.  He kicked one of the wights in its stomach, causing it to double over.  He plunged his halberd into the stomach of the other, and it crumpled instantly.

The hunters held back, firing their arrows into the undead bodies.  Several more wights fell, but many more came up from three sides, cutting off all escape.  And the gaunt-men continued to summon more. 

Berethron looked in horror as a gaunt-man held his staff aloft. 

A body crashed through the ground, its arm and head missing.  The body swung its arm at him, intending to slash him with its sharp nails.  Instead, Berethron ducked, then slashed his halberd across its chest.  The body fell.

“Fool!” shouted the gaunt-man.  “That was my latest creation.  Now I’ll have your head, and your body can serve me!”

Berethron took his halberd in his hands, pointing it at the guant-man.  “Then come fight me!” he challenged.  “I will not let you disturb the rest of Arnor’s dead while I have a will of my own!”

The gaunt-man laughed.  He swung his staff, but Berethron parried it.  His halberd clanged upon the gaunt-man’s helmet, denting it.  “Not my helmet!  I just finished polishing it!”  [I couldn't resist the urge to add a little humour ]

Berethron continued parrying the demon’s attacks.  Soon he spotted his chance.  He plunged his halberd into the gaunt-man’s arm.  Black blood gushed from the wound. 

“Ow!” the gaunt-man yelled.  “Enough of this!”  He raised his staff.  A flash of light stunned Berethron, sending him to the ground.  “Now to finish you off!” the guant-man said. 

But before he could pierce Berethron with his staff, Lilly shot an arrow between his eyes.  The gaunt-man gave a shriek, then fell forward on his face, the arrow plunging through his head, and coming out the other side as he hit the ground.  Berethron stirred.

He quickly regained his wits, then rejoined the battle.  But things seemed desperate.  At least eighteen wights and five gaunt-men had them surrounded, and the guant-men continued summoning more wights. 

“Stand and fight!  Do not falter!” Berethron shouted.  “Fight!”  Elf, dwarf, and man slashed their weapons hither and thither, the bodies of the wights piling in horrible mounds.  But they could not last much longer — already they were beginning to tire, and the wights forced them closer and closer.

A guant-man raised his staff to summon a wight.  “No more shall you defile Arnor’s people!”  Berethron shouted.  He kicked the gaunt-man.  The demon recoiled from the blow.  Berethron plunged his halberd into the hideous face.  The gaunt-man gave a terrible shriek, then fell backward, his body rolling down the stairs.  He was dead.

Berethron quickly turned to his companions.  “The gaunt-men!  Kill the gaunt-men!  It’s the only way to stop the wights!”

The hunters shot their arrows into another guant-man.  He plunged from the tower, screaming as he fell.  His body crashed into the pavement below, causing his insides to spill out.

But they were still outnumbered more than two to one.  The remaining gaunt-men retreated behind their wights, then started to summon more.  “Champions!”  yelled Berethron, “mow them down!”

The elf and the dwarf slashed their weapons into the ranks of the undead, cutting a hole in the throng.  Berethron charged forward, and kicked another guant-man, before plunging his halberd into the demon’s chest.  He quickly extracted his halberd from the body as it fell backward, then splintered another gaunt-man’s neck.

But the last gaunt-man finished his spell.  Another wight rose from the ground.  It attacked Berethron with its sword.  “Lilly!”  Lilly whipped out her sword, and charged.  They quickly decapitated the wight, and the bones plunged from the tower.  The gaunt-man tried to stun them, but they were too quick.  He couldn’t keep up with their constant strikes.  “Fools!  I won’t fall to you!”

The gaunt-man turned and ran up the stairs.  But before he could get to the top, two arrows plunged into his back.  His body fell onto the stairs, then rolled down.

And with that, the battle quickly ended.  The remaining wights turned and fled, dismayed by the deaths of all their masters.  The fellowship gave a shout of triumph.  They had prevailed against the warriors of the shadow realm!

“Hurrah!” they shouted.  “Today the Eglain have the victory!  We return in glory!”

The moon shone bright as they walked out of the ravine and into Ost Guruth.  The guards and nomads gave them shouts of praise.  A great feast began to celebrate the victory of the Eglain over their enemies, such as Ost Guruth had not seen since before the rise of Angmar.

Radagast greeted Berethron and Lilly as they sat around a campfire telling their tale.  “Well done!” Radagast said.  “This is indeed a time for celebration.  I knew you could do it!”

“Thank you,” they replied.  Radagast sat down beside them.  “Did you get the gaunt-men’s sigils?” he asked.

“Oh yes, I found several,” Berethron said.  “But please, destroy them after you are done.  I have no wish to have their evil influence continue to plague the world.”

Radagast took the necklaces in his hands.  “Don’t worry, once I’m done examining them, I will destroy them,” he said.

He looked long and hard at the sigils.  He took one in his hand and turned it around and around.  He stared off into space.  He looked at the sigils again, stroking his beard.  Finally, he turned to them.  “These sigils bear the mark of Ivar the Bloodhand. He is a powerful lord of the gaunt-men, and a dangerous and vile creature. It is he who is behind the corruption of the Red Swamp.

“Why would a creature such as Ivar travel so far from Angmar? Power, perhaps.  But what drew him here?”

Radagast took the moss in his hands and closed his eyes.  His lips were the only part of his body that moved.  He seemed to be whispering, almost below the level of hearing.  Finally, after more than a minute, he opened his eyes.

“I can smell death in the moss, as if it was plucked from an ancient grave.  This stench of decay and evil is not a thing from nature. I believe that the wights are to blame.

“Wights are the bones of the dead, stirred by fell spirits out of Angmar and Rhudaur. The wars here long ago made Haragmar as ripe for wights as the Barrow-downs in the west. Return to Haragmar, the swamp in the east, and destroy these foul creatures.

“If there are wights, I fear there are other fell creatures haunting the swamp, as well. For now, though, you need only concern yourself with the wights.”

“So you wish us to return to the swamp and defeat the wights?” Berethron asked.

“Yes,” replied Radagast.  “I fear that they are approaching Ost Guruth too closely.  You must destroy many of them in order to thin their numbers and to convince them that they must not come close to this fort.”

Lilly was frightened.  “We fought wights in the Barrow-downs, Radagast.  I beg you, don’t make me face them again!  They are the thing that I fear most, other than the Nazgul.  Please, I can’t bear to face them again!”

“Lilly,” asked Radagast, “let me put it this way.  Day by day, hour by hour, minute by minute, those ghosts approach us ever more closely.  If we do not thin their numbers now, their army will grow bolder, bigger, and stronger, until they have gathered a strong enough army to lay waste to Ost Guruth.  Better to attack them now, then wait until they attack us later.

Lilly closed her eyes and shuddered.  “Lilly, are you all right?” Berethron asked.  She continued to shudder.  Finally, she stopped.  Slowly, her eyes opened.  “Berethron, help me…” she whispered.

“It’s all right, I’m here,” he said.  “I will not let you face them alone!  Please don’t cry, Lilly!”

Lilly raised her head and sighed.  “Very well, we will do this.”

They took their leave of Radagast.  When they exited the tower, Lilly asked,  ”What happened to me?  I never felt so frightened and helpless!”

Berethron put his arm around her.  “It’s your wound, Lilly.  The wounds caused by the Morgul-blades do more than damage your body.  I think that your mind and soul have been affected as well.  I can’t tell the full extent of the damage, but I do know that in most cases, such wounds never fully heal.”

Lilly looked down.  “Am I scarred for life, then?  Am I doomed to walk under Sauron’s shadow forever?”

Berethron looked toward the swamp.  “I think, Lilly, that you are more open to the spiritual world.  You have a special mark upon you.  It does not bind you to Sauron, but I do think that he is more able to influence you than before.  You must be extra careful to guard your heart from evil.”

Lilly burst into tears.  “Oh, Berethron!  What am I to do?”

“Please, Lilly!  It’s not as bad as it seems.  You are also more able to perceive the deceits of the Enemy.  He cannot hide from you anymore.  It may be that this is the way things were meant to be.”

Lilly looked up.  “Really?”

“Yes,” Berethron said with a smile.  “Illuvatar works in mysterious ways.”

Lilly wiped her eyes.  “Then let us go!”

——————————————————————

Mist hung heavily over the swamp; tainting the air the colour of blood.  Unseen creatures made numerous strange sounds.  Lilly shivered.  “Berethron, something is watching us.  I can feel it!”

Berethron looked around.  “Then we must be careful.  Be ready for anything.”

They continued walking.  After a few moments, Berethron raised his hand. 

“Lilly, cock your bow.”  Lilly drew an arrow and put it in her bow.  They continued walking, but more slowly than before.

A hiss came from behind them.  Berethron whispered, “Get ready, Lilly!”  They turned around.  A dark form loomed in the fog.  It appeared human, but much thinner.

For a moment, the mist cleared.  Berethron and Lilly gasped.  A terrifying wight stood before them. 

The wight gave a gargling cry, then attacked.  It swung its sword wildly, all the while making strange gargling noises.

While Berethron held its attention with his halberd, Lilly fired her bow, striking it right between the eyes.  With a moan, the wight teetered drunkenly, then fell forward on its face.  It seemed as if a purple-black cloud surrounded it for a moment, then dispersed.

Berethron knelt down.  “So it is true,” he said.  “Wights do inhabit this swamp.”  He looked at Lilly.  “Lilly, we must thin out their numbers.  If you see one, shoot it!”

They continued to patrol the swamp.  For several minutes, they saw nothing and heard nothing but the noisome cries of unseen animals.  “Well, Lilly,” said Berethron, “do you feel anything?”

Lilly looked around.  “I feel as if I were being watched from all sides,” she said.  “There are dozens of evil things inhabiting this swamp.  But I cannot see them.”

“Then let us continue on,” Berethron said.

They intended to stay clear of the ominous red pools, but they found their steps inevitably leading them closer and closer to The Circle of Blood, a group of ominous pools of red water. 

All too soon, they found themselves there.  They looked at the crimson liquid with disgust.  Lilly put her hand over her mouth.  “Berethron, I think I’m going to vomit,” she said.  “My stomach can’t take this.”

Berethron looked at the ominous water.  “All right, Lilly.  Let’s continue on.”

“I can almost see dead bodies at the bottom of those pools,” Lilly continued. 

Then she stopped.  She looked more closely at the water. Her eyes widened, and a look of terror crossed her face.  She backed away.  “Berethron, I CAN see dead bodies under the water!”
 
“Relax, Lilly.  Dead bodies cannot harm –”

A massive spray came up from the pool, showering them with freezing cold water.  They recoiled at its touch.  When they wiped it out of their eyes, they gasped.  A group of wights was standing waist-deep in the water, all of them looking at them.  With loud cries, they attacked.

Berethron shouted, “Quick, Lilly!  Back to back!”  Lilly turned around, quickly parrying a wight’s blade.  Berethron swung his halberd, splitting another wight’s head in half. 

A grim melee began.  Berethron and Lilly swung their weapons as hard and as fast as they could, but they were outnumbered at least seven to one.  Could two hold out against fourteen?  Not likely.  Already the wights had them surrounded.

Then, all of a sudden, Lilly felt a hot wrath rising within her.  She could feel the wights’ wills fighting with her own, but she was determined not to go down without a fight.  Reacting quickly, she leaped into the air, and sliced her sword in front of her, decapitating three wights in a single blow. 

Their gruesome heads flew away from their bodies.  The bodies collapsed to the ground, their joints making ear-splitting cracks.

The other wights backed away from Lilly in fear, seeing how she had destroyed three of their companions so quickly.  She swung her sword in front of her, keeping them at bay.  She gave a horrific shout, which sent them running.

Lilly turned around, ready to help Berethron. But it was needless.  Berethron had slain four wights of his own, and the rest had fled, seeing their companions demoralized by Lilly’s wrath.

Berethron turned to her.  “Well done, Lilly!  I think we’ve given these wights a reason to stay away from Ost Guruth for now.  They’ve been scared off. 

“Come on, let’s tell Radagast.”

Berethron and Lilly took their leave of the Red Swamp.  Strangely, the swamp seemed less threatening then it did earlier.  Perhaps the reason was that the undead who lurked their had been scattered and humiliated by two seemingly powerless humans.

When they returned to Radagast, they told him their tale.  “Decapitated three with one blow, did you, Lilly?”

“Yes, sir.  I don’t know what came over me, but all of a sudden I just felt this hot rage within me, and I swung at them as hard as I could.  And then I knocked their heads off!  I even amazed myself at it.”

Radagast laughed.  “Well done!  The wights’ destruction can only prove to help us in the time to come. Now listen, for there is much more to do.”

Berethron and Lilly entered the tower.  The door shut behind them, sealing them in near-darkness.  They looked at each other, then up the winding staircase.  With hesitation, they began to climb.

Their footsteps echoed in the winding hallway.  The only light came from few-and-far-between candles, and these made spooky effects with their shadows.
Finally, they reached the top of the stairs.  They found themselves in a circular room.  Opposite the stairs, Radagast sat behind a table.  He seemed sorcerous in the half-light and near-silence.  He beckoned to them, and they walked to the table.

“Welcome, travellers. You say that you are friends to Gandalf the Grey?”  They nodded.  “I am called Radagast the Brown, and I am Gandalf’s relative.  I suppose you are wondering why he sent you here?”  They nodded again.  “Then I will explain.  Listen carefully, for what I am about to tell you is both perilous and terrifying.

“The land itself is turning against us, and I know not the reason why. Even the shepherds are twisted shadows of their former selves. I speak of the bog-prowlers, those that tend to the trees.

“If I can discern what is twisting the shepherds, I may be able to determine what is fouling the land. Bring me the moss that they use to line their nests.  They roam the swamp to the east of here.”

Lilly was puzzled.  “Radagast, could you please explain this a little more clearly?  What on earth is a bog-prowler?”

Radagast looked long and hard at her.  “Have you heard legends of the ents?”

Lilly slowly shook her head.  “Then I suppose I should start at the beginning,” said Radagast.  “Gandalf told me you are from Bree-land, am I correct?”

“Yes,” replied Lilly.

“Then you have heard the legends of the Old Forest?”

“Yes; as a matter of fact, we recently paid a visit to Tom Bombadil.”

“Excellent!  Then you know that the trees which make up that forest possess the ability to move?  And that many are even sentient?”

“Yes….”

“So it is with the plants in the nearby swamp.  Not all plants are rooted in place — if you’ll forgive the expression.  Many plants can move about as if they were animals, yet they retain the features of bark and leaf. 

The Old Forest is not their only inhabitation within Eriador.  The place where I am sending you is another of their haunts.  But these plants have recently turned sinister.  I have long been the friend of the nature of Middle-earth, but recently, several roots attempted to choke me!  I was forced to burn them in self-defence.  The swamp has turned against the Eglain.  Something down there has caused it to become a place of evil and corruption.  The bog-lurkers are but one example.  As I have said, bring me the moss they use to line their nests, and I may be able to determine what is causing this.”

Berethron nodded.  “Very well, we’ll see what we can do.” They turned toward the stairs.

As they began to walk down, Radagast called after them.  “Remember, I do not wish to harm the shepherds, no matter how confused they appear. They are innocent victims of the corruption and know not the harm they do.”

**************************************************

The sun blinded them as they exited the tower.  “I still don’t fully understand, Berethron,” said Lilly.  “What is all this about moving plants?”

“Lilly, think of it as the Old Forest.  It’s the same thing — Radagast said so.”

They began to walk through the ruins.  Berethron stopped a guard.  “Excuse me, but Radagast said he wishes us to search for bog-prowler nests in a swamp east of here.  Can you tell me how to get there?”

The guard stared at him.  “Care to explain yourself, lad?  No one who goes in there comes out alive.”

Berethron put his palms out.  “I’m just doing what he told me to do.”

The guard sighed.  “Very well.  But you hardly need directions.  The swamp is right next door, as it were.  Just go out that eastern exit, and it’s pretty much impossible to miss it, without actually going right around it.”

“Thank you,” said Berethron, and they headed toward the gap in the eastern wall.  As they passed, the guards who were watching the entrance stopped them.

 ”Where do you think you’re going?”

Berethron replied, “Um, we’re going to find bog-lurker nests for Radagast.”

The guards laughed.  “Are you crazy?  It’s suicide to go in there!”

“So we’ve heard,” Berethron replied.  “But if we can survive the Barrow-downs of Cardolan, we can certainly survive a swamp.”

The guards laughed again.  “That’s what you think, boy.  You want to find your swamp?  THERE’S your swamp!”

He pointed downward and eastward.  Berethron and Lilly looked out and down.  Their eyes widened.

The land fell into a deep ravine.  At the bottom, it appeared marshy, and patches of water appeared.  But what water!  They hoped it was the light, but the water and the land around it appeared…red.

Berethron and Lilly stared at the swamp below.  “What in the world is that, guard?  Am I seeing things, or is that swamp red?”

The guard replied, “Well, boy, it IS called the ‘Red Swamp.’  And those patches of water down there are called the ‘Circle of Blood.’”

Berethron turned to him.  “Would you care to explain to me why it’s red and not brown or green?”

The guard shook his head.  “I know not why it is so,” he said.  “I do know, however, that something lives down there that is better left undisturbed.”

Berethron looked back into the ravine.  “We have no choice,” he said.  “We have a job to do.”

Berethron and Lilly walked forward into the ravine.  “What kind of people would have their home next to a place like this?” Lilly asked.

“Ones who have no choice,” Berethron replied.  “While the nurses looked after you, I managed to find out a few things about the Eglain and their current situation.  The orcs are pressing into the Lone-lands.  Armies are coming from both the north and south.  The Eglain have been forced to inhabit Ost Guruth, because the orcs seem to avoid the swamp.  And I don’t blame them.  From the words of the guards it’s haunted.”

They walked further down.  The land began to turn wet.  They heard the chirping of crickets, frogs, and neekerbreekers.  The air became thick with humidity.  Soon, the ground turned burgundy.

Berethron and Lilly looked at the animals who inhabited the swamp.  Even they seemed tainted, for many of them appeared orange-brown.  Neekerbreekers, whom the Eglain seemed to fear, stared at them with red eyes.  “Be careful, Berethron,” said Lilly.  “The neekerbreekers in the Midgewater Marshes are dangerous, but these ones are hideous!”

“I see them, don’t worry,” Berethron replied.  “Just stay away from them,” he said.

Just then, they heard something behind them.  They slowly turned around. 

 Standing behind them was what looked like a mound of earth with legs.  It stared quizzically at them.  Then, without warning, it attacked them.

The creature stuck its legs in the ground.  Roots reached out of the ground and grabbed them.  Lilly cut the roots with her sword.  Berethron stuck his halberd into the creature’s stomach.  It teetered, then fell to the ground.

They stared at the corpse.  “I think we found a bog-lurker,” said Berethron. 

“And look there.  That must be its nest.”

A bowl-shaped mound of earth, twigs, moss and other debris lay there.  Berethron reached out and grabbed a handful of it.  “This feels cold,” he said.  “Feel it.”

Lilly stretched out her hand to touch the moss.  Immediately, she shuddered.  A look of fear and pain stretched across her face.  “Berethron, I feel the same dread that took me after I was stabbed by the Nazgul!  This is of the same stock — whatever caused this corruption came from Mordor; I can feel it.”

Berethron was concerned.  “Then let us return to Ost Guruth.  If what caused this is from Mordor, then it is more dangerous than the Eglain imagine.”

They climbed back up the hill.  When they reached the walls, the guards asked them, “Well, you’re the first to brave the dangers of that swamp and come out alive!  Did you see any trees walking?” they laughed. 

“We did see a mound of earth walking.  And if you’ll excuse us, we are bringing a piece of its nest to Radagast.”

They entered the tower.  When they came to Radagast, they handed him the moss.  ”Here it is,” said Berethron.

Radagast held the moss aloft, then turned back to them.  “You did well. This moss will help me to understand how the evil is tainting the Red Swamp.”

“This is but the first step in determining what caused the shepherds to become confused and irrational.

“There is more still to do, my friends. It will not be easy.”

Berethron lay back against the wall of the fort.  He tried in vain to take his mind off Lilly, but he could not.  He couldn’t eat, and sleep only came after a long, mournful string of visions rushed through his mind.

When the sun rose, one of the guards woke him up.  “Excuse me, sir, but Radagast sent me to get you.”

Berethron rubbed his eyes.  “Who?”

“Radagast,” the guard replied.  “The wizard.”

Berethron rubbed the last of the gunk out of his eyes.  “All right,” he said tiredly. 

He followed the guard into Ost Guruth’s makeshift hospital.  Radagast was conversing with one of the nurses.  They turned when Berethron and the guard walked into the room.

The guard walked up to Radagast and said, “Sir, I have brought the traveler, as you requested.”

Radagast looked at Berethron, then turned to the guard.  “Thank you.  That will be all.”  He walked up to Berethron.  “And how are you feeling this morning, my lad?”

Berethron replied, “Tired, cold, and very worried.”  He looked around the room.  “Where is my wife?”

Radagast turned and pointed to where three women were bending over one of the cots.  “She’s over there.  Don’t worry, the nurses have done an excellent job.  But I have to ask, what happened to her?”

Berethron began their tale.  “We camped underneath Weathertop.  But during the night our camp was attacked by Nazgul.  I drove them off, but my wife had wandered away from the fire.  She was stabbed, and some evil in the sword entered into her.  That was two nights ago.  She’s been sick ever since, and getting worse all the time.”

“I see,” Radagast replied.  “The nurses found the tip-end of a sword-blade inside her.  They removed it.  When I saw it, I asked them to hand it to me.  It seemed to gleam from within.  Now I know why — it was a Morgul-blade that injured her, was it not?”

Berethron looked down.  “Yes,” he replied.  “I should never have let her leave the camp.”

Radagast put his hand on Berethron’s shoulder.  “Cheer up, lad,” he said.  “It was not your fault.  Besides, the worst is over.  Without the metal inside her, it can do her no more harm.  The nurses told me that she will mend.  It may take several days, but she will recover.”

Berethron looked up, a look of joy on his face.  “This is the best news I’ve had in days!  Thank you for everything you have done.  How can I repay you for this?”

Radagast thought a moment.  “When she’s better, come see me in the tower at the back of the fort.  I believe my cousin Gandalf sent you?”

“Yes,” said Berethron.  “He sent us to find you.”

“Very good,” said Radagast.  “Once she is recovered, I have a special task for both of you.”

********************************************

Lilly slowly opened her eyes.  She looked up.  Several other women were bending over her.  “Good morning, lass,” said one.  “How are you feeling?”

Lilly felt her wound.  “I — I feel as if I were hit by a flying boulder,” she sighed.  “But that’s better than I felt before.”

“No wonder,” said the nurse.  “We pulled a piece of metal out of your body.     It was the tip of a sword, no less.  You’re lucky you’re alive at all.”

Lilly rubbed her head; she had a headache.  “Where am I?” she sighed.

A nurse answered, “You are in Ost Guruth, home of the Eglain.”

“How long have I been unconcious?”

“Almost four days.  Your husband brought you at sundown, and it’s almost noon now.”

“Four days.  And I still feel so tired!”

“You should.  You went through quite an ordeal.  You were hot enough to burn us, if we touched you, when you came.  You were sweating.  And you looked so pale, at the height of the fever!  But don’t worry.  Once we removed the splinter, you started to get better.”

Lilly felt too weak to stand.  She looked around the room with half-closed eyes.  Then, she noticed something.  “Wait a moment — these clothes aren’t mine!”

The nurse replied, “No, we’ve given you one of our spare uniforms.  Now you look the part of a maid of the Eglain!”

Lilly looked at her outfit.  “Well, it is a bit better looking than the guard’s uniform I had,” she said.  “It’s much more colourful.  But where are my old clothes?”

The nurses laughed.  “My goodness, lass, they were so badly torn and dirtied that you’ll never be able to wear them again!  I’m sorry, but you’ll just have to wear the clothing we’ve provided.”

Lilly sighed and closed her eyes.  She was too tired to be worried about what she had lost.  “I need to go back to sleep…” she whispered.

********************************************

Berethron leaned against a wall.  He felt bored.  Nearly four days had gone by since they had come to Ost Guruth, and he had not left it since.  Nor had he seen Lilly — the nurses had been bending over her, cutting off his line of sight.  He closed his eyes and sighed.  “Oh brother…I need something to do!”

His eyes snapped open.  A smile spread across his face.  “Of course!  The perfect thing to do!” He dashed off.

Hanna the Young, the grocer of Ost Guruth, was tending her fire.  Suddenly she gasped.  A tall shadow fell across her.  She looked up.

“Excuse me,” said Berethron, “but I have some purchases to make.”

Hanna stammered, “All right, I’ll help you if I can….”

********************************************

Lilly finally awoke.  “All right, lass, let’s see if you can walk.”

With the nurses supporting her, Lilly staggered out of the building.  “Are you hungry?” they asked.

“I certainly hope she is!” shouted Berethron as he ran up.  “Lilly!  You’re all right!”

“Yes, I think so,” she said.

“Here, Lilly.  I just made these muffins.  Here, take some — you haven’t eaten anything in days!” 

He laid her against the wall, then set the muffins beside her.  She took a bite.  “Mmmmm…wonderful,” she said.  “Thank you, Berethron.  Now tell me, what have you been up to?  I need you to talk to me!”

Berethron looked down.  “Mostly I’ve just kicked my heels waiting for you to get better.  It’s been such a bore.  Finally, just a few hours ago, I decided to do some cooking.  Hence the muffins.”

Berethron took a muffin himself, and began to eat.  As they ate, they stared around the fort.  Despite their nomad lifestyle and the threats of the orcs, the Eglain appeared to do well enough for themselves.  They had supplies of food, shelter, clothing and weapons in plenty.

Berethron turned to Lilly and said, “Do you think you can get around by yourself now?  Radagast said he wanted to see us.”

Lilly looked up.  “Who is he?”

“A wizard who is aiding the Eglain.  He resides mostly within that tower at the back of the fort.”

Lilly struggled to her feet.  “Well, it’s still difficult, but I think I can make it.  My strength is returning.”

“Let’s go then,” Berethron responded.  Slowly, they entered the keep, wondering what adventure they were embarking upon.

I posted this in the SoM forums about a month ago.  I thought I’d post it for you here — I just thought it was epic

Lilly’s fever worsened over the course of the night.  She tossed and turned,  muttering strange things in her sleep, sometimes screaming in terror.  More  than once she woke up from a nightmare, only to find the empty night around  her.

When the sun rose, Berethron was already hard at work, making sure that she  was all right.  He made her some more of the athelas brew, which seemed to  lessen her illness, but not by much.  Her fever was now so bad that he could  not touch her forehead with bare hands — her head was hot enough to burn him.

As the sun rose, Lilly’s sight seemed to fade — the sun hurt her eyes, and a mist seemed to veil everything she looked at.

Berethron was praying.  “Heavenly father Illuvatar, please help me to find aid for my wife.  She is fatally ill, and I fear she may lose her soul as well as her body to this.  Send us aid!”

[I was actually listening to the lotro soundtrack "Lonelands" while I was writing this ]

After breakfast, he set her upon his horse once more, and began to lead them back to the road.  They went slowly.  The sun was hot and bright, and Berethron was sweating a lot.  He was obliged to keep a canteen in one hand.

At noon, he could go no further without rest.  He simply led the horses to the side of the road, and flopped on his back, panting.  “I — can’t — go — another step,” he gasped.  Lilly said nothing.  She was too sick to worry herself with her husband’s exertion.  She had a blanket drawn over her body to regulate her temperature as much as possible, but it was soaked with sweat.  She still didn’t know whether she was burning or freezing.

“Berethron,” she whispered, “I’ve never been so ill before.  All that he did was make a sword wound, and it wasn’t even in a fatal spot.  What’s going on?  What’s happening to me?” 

Berethron struggled to his feet, then leaned on his horse.  He was still panting and sweating.  “I think,” — he paused to take a breath — “I think that a portion of the Nazgul’s sword is inside your body.”  He turned to her.  “Do you remember Amdir?”

“Yes,” she replied hoarsely.

“And remember how he was turned into a wraith because of the morgul-blade wound?”

Lilly felt a black dread settle over her.  “Yes…”

Berethron put his arm on her shoulder.  “The morgul-blades are embalmed with a dark sorcery.  The power of Sauron lies within them, and he is mighty beyond our imagining.  There is an infection put into the blade that kills the victim slowly and painfully.  But worst of all,” he paused, “worst of all, the power in them is so great that a portion of the blade is enough to possess its victim’s soul.  I think that the Nazgul are trying to possess you.”

Lilly felt her heart beat faster.  “But what can we do?  I am losing my very being to this illness!  I don’t want to become a demon!”  She buried her face in the horse’s mane and sobbed.  The horse snorted and whinnied in pain, as Lilly’s infamed forehead met its neck.

Berethron tried to comfort her.  “Don’t give up hope, Lilly!  Keep praying to Illuvatar.  You are not overcome yet.  There is still hope that you can be cured!”

At that moment, Berethron heard hoofbeats coming from the east.  He looked down the road.  Two magnificent white horses were galloping toward them.  Their riders seemed to glisten and shimmer in the sunlight. 

Berethron raised his hand in token of greeting.  The horses were brought to a halt.  “Mae govannen, man!” said one of the riders.  “What brings you here in this wilderness?”

Berethron stared in wonder.  The riders were elves!  He did not know what to say.  “I — at the moment, I’m trying to find a place where my wife can be cured of her illness.”

The second rider dismounted.  Her hair was black, but it seemed brighter than the sun.  “We shall give you what aid we can,” she said.  “But we are on a great mission from which we cannot turn aside.”

She walked up to Lilly.  She studied her face for a few moments, then turned to Berethron.  “You have met the Nazgul, have you not?” she asked.

Berethron nodded.  “Yes, two of them attacked our camp at Weathertop.  She was wounded just below her arm, and has been ill since then.  That was now two nights ago, and she’s been getting steadily worse.”

The elves conversed a while in Quenya.  Then they turned to Berethron.  “Alas!” said the male elf.  “We cannot cure her.  But we may know someone who can.  Only a few kilometres east of here is a fortress commanded by the Eglain.  They are the hosts of the great wizard Radagast the Brown.  He may be able to drive out the poison of the Nazgul.”

At the name of Radagast, Berethron stirred.  “Can you take us to this fortress?” he asked.

“Of course,” replied the elves.  “But we must hurry.  You need to ride there.”

They were obliged to gallop.  It was difficult for Berethron, due to the weight on his back, but for Lilly it was a nearly unbearable torment.  Her stomach heaved, and she became disoriented.  When they finally stopped outside the great fortress of Ost Guruth, Lilly fell off her horse, then vomited.

Berethron picked her up in his arms.  “Come on, Lilly!  Don’t give in yet!”

She raised her head.  “Berethron?…” she whispered hoarsely.  “Is that you?…”

“Yes Lilly, it’s me!” he whispered.

The male elf put his hand on Berethron’s shoulder.  “Come now, man, we must get her to safety.”

They climbed the stairs of Ost Guruth.  Guards blocked their way.  “Master elf, you may enter here, but you’ll need to prove the worthiness of your human companions,” they said.

Berethron spoke to the guards.  “Please, you have to help my wife!  She is near death!  And if she doesn’t get help soon, we’ll all wish we had a dark corner to hide in!  She’s going to become a wraith!”

The guard laughed.  “Ha-ha!  My lad, you are the most dilusional character I have ever met!  Just you wait there, and Frideric and Radagast will decide what to do with you.”

Two men approached.  One appeared like the rest of the Eglain, clad in grey-brown.  The other appeared old and wise, also arrayed in brown, but of a different hue.  And he had royal-looking vestments.

The Eglan spoke.  “Well now, Goryan?  What’s all this?”

The guard replied, “Frideric, these elves came with this man and that woman in his arms.  He claims that she is going to die and come back to life, and haunt us all!”  He laughed again.

The old, wise man stared gravely at Lilly.  “Don’t laugh, gentlemen.  That woman’s soul is being torn away from her.  I’d say she has but hours left to live.  Take her to the nursing room, and tell the women there to have a look at her!”

As Lilly was taken off, Berethron turned to the elves.  “May I have the honour of knowing to whom I owe so much?” he asked them.  The male elf said, “Glorfindel.”  The female elf said, “Arwen.”

The last thing Lilly remembered was lying on a cot, with three other women peering over her.  “Now don’t you worry lass,” they said.  “While you’re asleep, we’re going to take a look at what’s going on inside you.  Just relax…just relax…jussst relaaaaaaaaxxxxx….”  Lilly fainted.

Berethron carried Lilly back to their camp.  She was coughing and sobbing the whole way.  When he laid her down, she went into a fit, coughing more strongly than ever, then when she regained control of herself, she laid back and wept.

“All right, Lilly.  I’m going to make you a special brew that can deal with this illness.”  Berethron quickly put a pot over the fire and filled it with water.  He applied a wet cloth to Lilly’s forehead.  When the water began to boil, he crushed some herbs in his hand, then threw them into the pot.  They gave out a sweet, strong, refreshing fragrance.  After he stirred them a little, he scooped some of the soup into a bowl.  He used it to soak another cloth, then put it on her wound.  He got out a spoon and had her eat the soup.

 Soon after, she stopped coughing, though she was still in a high fever.  “Lilly, I must apologize.  I think this is all my fault.  If I hadn’t climbed Weathertop, we wouldn’t be in this mess.”

Lilly breathed hard.  “I — I understand,” she said.  “But you didn’t know this would happen.  I shouldn’t have wandered away from the fire.”

Berethron felt tears forming in his eyes.  “What can we do, when we are out in the wilderness, far from aid?” he asked.

Lilly was still breathing heavily, but she managed to speak.  “Well, I have heard that not far from here is an inn, the Forsaken Inn.  It isn’t anywhere near the Prancing Pony, nor any inn in Bree-land, but it would offer more shelter than anywhere else around here.  It is the last place I know of that would offer any security as we head east.”

Hope returned to Berethron.  “Can you guide me there?” he asked.

Lilly responded, “Well, I don’t know the lands around here, but I am told that Weathertop is only a stone’s throw north of the road, and the Inn is to the west of Weathertop, and lies beside the road.  So all we have to do is head south or southwest of here, and we can reach it.”

“Very well, we should try that,” Berethron replied.  “We shall start as soon as it is light.  You rest now, and I’ll keep watch for what is left of the night.” 

Lilly looked at him.  “But you’ll be so tired in the morning.”

“I know, but one of us has to keep watch.  I’ll be fine.”

Lilly closed her eyes.  “Very well, wake me as soon as the sun comes up.”

**********************************

When the sun rose, Berethron woke Lilly.  “Come, Lilly, it’s time to find this Forsaken Inn.”

Lilly rolled over.  “I feel terrible,” she moaned.

Berethron was worried.  “You’re not able to walk in your state,” he said.   “You shall ride my horse.  I’ll take all the baggage off him so that you can lie down.”

Lilly responded, “But how will you carry all that weight?”

“I’m a strong young man,” Berethron replied.  “And I will only take as much as I can carry.”

He took some of the bags off his horse, and set Lilly in the saddle.  She leaned forward, her head on its neck.  Berethron took some of the bags on his back.  He then got the reins of Lilly’s horse in his hand so that he could lead both horses.

“Come on, let’s go,” he said to them.  They started off.

They had not gone far before Berethron stopped.  Lilly opened her eyes and sighed, “What’s wrong?”

Berethron replied, “Lilly, we cannot go this way.”

“What?  Why not?” she asked.

Berethron pointed towards the valley below them.  “Look,” he said.  “Orcs. 

There is a string of goblin camps all around the foot of the mountain.”

He led the horse to the cliffside.  Below them, goblins patrolled back and forth.  Their brown tents stood in groups around their campfires, and they had set skulls atop spears.

Lilly was frightened.  “What shall we do?” she asked.  “Those camps lie right across our path, and there is no way around them.”

“It is the army of the White Hand,” Berethron replied.  “This is an advance force that aims to establish a foothold here.  We cannot go this way.  I’m afraid the Forsaken Inn will not be our refuge anytime soon.”

“But where can we go?” Lilly responded.  “You cannot lead us through the Lone-lands without some place to rest.”

Berethron turned to her.  “Have hope, Lilly.  Remember that Illuvatar is protecting us.  You told me that the Eglain live in the Lone-lands.  Well, we still have one chance:  we can find the Eglain.  I will lead the horses, and you can rest.  We will find them, but we must start now.”

Lilly put her arm on his shoulder.  “Not until you rest yourself,” she said.

“No, Lilly, you received a terrible wound.  You must have aid, more aid than I can provide.”

“Listen to me, Berethron.  You haven’t slept since the night before last.  You are going to walk throughout the Lone-lands, on foot, leading two horses with at least fifteen kilograms of weight on your back.  You cannot help me if you are not healthy yourself.  If you don’t sleep for at least seven hours — and right now — I will scream until those goblins climb up the hill and spear us both!”

Berethron laughed.  “All right, Lilly.  If you’re that concerned about me, I’ll get some sleep.  I am tired, after all.  But be sure to wake me once I’ve had my seven hours, or if any trouble happens.”  He led the horses away from the cliff, out of sight of the orc camps.  Then, he leaned against the cliff, and went to sleep.

**********************************

It was nearly three o’clock when Lilly woke Berethron.  He rubbed his eyes.   “Mmm,” he sighed.  “I feel refreshed.”

Once they had had a bite to eat, Berethron took the horses, leading them east along the south side of Weathertop.  He was careful to stay out of sight from the orcs below.  Once they had passed the last camp, he tried to find a way back to the road.  Sparse trees grew in patches, providing minimal cover for them.  Berethron led them slowly, making sure that nothing saw them, not even birds.

Eventually, the road stood before them.  Berethron looked back west, then east.  Nothing was moving upon the road.  The orc camps seemed deserted at this distance — only smoke from distance campfires indicated that there were any inhabitants.  Berethron sighed in relief.  “Phew — I think we’ve made it to safety.  But I still don’t feel comfortable on the road — we may meet patrols.  The goblins are likely to attack any travelers.”

Lilly looked ahead.  “In that case, we need to go now.  The Lone-lands are a wide, forsaken place.  Except for the Eglain, the only permanent residents are animals.  And anybody we meet will either be a nomad or an enemy.  We’ve heard stories that terrible trolls sometimes make their way here from the lands to the east.  Please, lead on!”

Berethron gave a tug on the horses’ reins.  “Come on, your mistress is ill.   We’ve got to get her to safety.  And mind you don’t let her fall off!”  The horses snorted in reply.

The sun fell westward, casting their shadows many metres ahead of them.  They saw no sign of inhabitation, not even animals, although ancient ruins from the Rhudaurin inhabitants of long before dotted the region.  Many crumbling forts stood on either side of the road.  Many of these seemed to glare at them, the fading light adding to the sinister effect.  Berethron kept his eyes straight ahead.  Here, his ancestors had built magnificent towers, but now they seemed to stare at him with hate.  He did not turn his head.

Lilly, however, was almost obliged to keep her head on one side, as she was leaning into the horse’s neck.  She stared nervously at the ruins of Naerost as they passed, the minutes seeming to stretch on endlessly as they made their way down the road.  The ruined windows and doorways showed only shadow, and Lilly imagined dozens of orcs — or things far worse — staring at them with glowing eyes.  She shut her own, but shadows seemed to dance in the blackness that one sees when his or her eyes are shut.  She waved her hand in front of her, as if to ward them off.

Berethron turned and saw her waving.  His eyes opened wide.  “She’s seeing things,” he thought.  “She’s geting worse.”

The sun went below the horizon as they made their way to a belt of trees.  Berethron tethered the horses to one of the trees, then began to build a fire.  “This will be our camp tonight,” he said.

“Berethron,” said Lilly, “can you get me off your horse?  He’s wonderful, and his fur is like silk, but I’m stiff and sore after lying atop him all day.  And I’ve got a fever.  I need to lie on my back for a change.”

Berethron turned.  “Oh, did I forget to take you down from there?”  He got up and set her against a tree.  “Are you comfortable?  I’ll get you some blankets.

He started to get some blankets from the baggage, but at that moment, Lilly started screaming.  Berethron turned.  Lilly was waving her head back and forth, and she was flailing her arms and legs maniacally.  She was screaming as if she were insane. 

Berethron cried, “Lilly!” and hurried over to her.  “Lilly, calm down, it’s –”

Lilly kicked him in the face, knocking him to the ground.  She screamed, “Stay away from me, you monster!  No!  I won’t come to you!  Get away from me!  No!”

Berethron rubbed his cheek, and noticed his lips were bleeding.  Lilly finally stopped flailing, but she turned on her side, curled up in a ball, covered her face with her hands, and began sobbing frantically.

Berethron crawled over to her.  “Lilly, what happened?”  She continued sobbing.  “Lilly, it’s me, Berethron!”  She still continued sobbing.

Finally, she turned back to him, and looked up at him with terror in her eyes.  She was still crying.  Berethron helped her to her knees.  He put his arms on her shoulders.  “What happened?  What did you see?”

Lilly began to gasp, as one does after weeping.  She turned her face away from him.  Finally, she began to talk, between gasps.  “I — I — I saw — a terrible man,” she said.  “He was covered in black armour from head to toe.  His helmet covered his head, including his face.  But he removed it.  Oh Berethron, his face was hideous — he was blacker than his armour, and his eyes — ” She closed her eyes and bowed her head.       “– his eyes; they were like fire.  Each one had flames coming from the centre, but the centre was a black void.  I seemed drawn toward them; he seemed to be dragging me into the void.  I tried to get away, but he stretched out his hand to grab me.  His hand had four fingers; the central one seemed to be cut off, but a hellish fire seemed to burn from inside the stub.  I felt as if I were freezing and burning at the same time.  I covered my face.  Then, when I opened my eyes, you were there.”

She kept gasping, and tears continued down her cheeks.  “I’m so sorry, Berethron, I don’t know what came over me.  Who was that man I saw?  You know who he is, I know you do.”

Berethron lowered his eyes.  “Yes, I know who he is,” he said.  He looked back up at her.  “You saw the Dark Lord, whom some call Sauron,” he said.  ”The Nazgul are his greatest servants.  The wound gives them some power over you, and Sauron has full power over them.  So he was able to see you. 

“Tell me, Lilly, did he say anything to you?  Did you say anything to him?”

Lilly tried to avoid his glance, but was drawn back.  “I, I think he asked me who I was,” she said. 

“And did you tell him?”

“No.  But, but I felt as I a part of me wanted to.  I, I just wanted to escape from him so badly.  But I seemed to be drawn to him.  He seemed to be absorbing my soul.”

Berethron’s eyes opened wide.  “This isn’t good, Lilly,” he said.  “There is more to this than a mere wound.  Something much deadlier is at work inside you.”

Sigh…

Ever since I stopped writing Berethron’s diary, I have wished that I had not.  But I had no choice — my problem was something
I could not ignore. 

All I can tell you is that the issue centred around Berethron and Lilly’s romance before their marriage.  Oh yes, they got
 married :D 

Well, I finally decided to continue the story from there.  A quick sum-up of what happened from where we left off to from
where I hope to continue:
Amdir is found, but it is too late to save him.
Amdir goes on a rampage, and kills several other rangers.
Berethron and Lilly meet Aragorn.
They help to end Amdir’s reign of terror.
They are sent to Tom Bombadil.
They help to end the threat of Sambrog — and Berethron picks up some of the wight-lord’s jewellry, including two
 gem-decorated rings
After Sambrog’s defeat, they return to Archet.
At Archet, Berethron proposes to Lilly, using the rings he obtained from the Barrow-downs.
They get married

Now with that out of the way, I think I can continue. 

Berethron and Lilly have bought a house in the South Downs, and have also obtained horses from Hengstacer Farm.  Lilly has
helped Berethron overcome his dislike of horses (mostly by having him ride around Hamglen twice a day), and now he is an
excellent rider.

My problem has kept me from delving into any further detail, but you get the idea.  The biography continues as Berethron and
Lilly return — but we pick up from the end of Book 1, Stirrings in the Darkness.  All the material that I have condensed for
 you above will become “Berethron’s Diary — The Lost Episodes,” and I will continue writing the Biography entries as before.
If I ever get the chance, I will write The Lost Episodes as well.

We’re back — oh yes, we are back ;)  Berethron and Lilly return to their part in the War of the Ring — as husband and wife!
And, to reward you for your patience, I have written an extra-long chapter!

The sun dawned bright and clear.  Berethron was fast asleep.  The window, unfortunately, was covered,
and Lilly had neglected to draw the blinds.  Berethron did not wake up until he smelled bacon frying over the fire.

He opened one eye.  In the main room, he could hear Lilly singing to herself.  “I love her,” he thought.  “She is
always so cheerful in the mornings.”

Berethron got out of bed, and put on his trousers, shirt, and vest.  He then headed out to the living room,
where Lilly was preparing breakfast.

“Good morning, Lilly,” said Berethron.

“Good morning, my love,” said Lilly.

Berethron looked at the table.  “Ah, the eggs are prepared the way I like them,” he said.

Lilly smiled.  “Yes, I remember you told me you like them this way,” she said.

Berethron headed to the door.  “I’m just going to check the mail,” he said.

Lilly looked up.  “At this hour?  You’ve just awakened.”

Berethron replied, “Yes, but you never know.  I’ll only be a moment.”  He headed out the door.  He turned to his left and opened
the mailbox.  “Well well well,” he said, “there is something here.”  He pulled the letter out of the box and turned back into the house.

“Lilly,” he said, “We do have a letter.”

She looked up.  “Who is it from?” she asked.

Berethron looked at the letter.  “It says, G, and the return address is the Prancing Pony.”  He thought a moment.  “But who would send us
a letter from the Prancing Pony?”

Lilly laughed.  “Well, we can discuss it over breakfast.  Hurry, your eggs and bacon are getting cold.”

Once they had taken a few bites, Berethron opened the letter.  “Let’s see what it says.”

He opened the paper, and began to read.  “‘G’ is the only name provided, and it says, ‘Dear Berethron and Lilly, I have recently arrived here
at the Prancing Pony.  Congratulations on your marriage. 

‘I believe Tom Bombadil directed you to see me.  If you receive this message after the second of October, it has arrived too late, and
you should head straight to the Forsaken Inn where you will receive instructions.  If, however, you receive it on or before said date, get to the Prancing
Pony as soon as you can so that I may tell you what I need you to do.

‘P.S.  Thank you so much for helping the rangers — especially Strider.  He and his charges are more important to
the fate of Middle-earth than you can possibly imagine.’”

Lilly thought a moment.  “I’m not sure — when is the second?”

Berethron looked at their calendar.  His eyes opened wide.  “I don’t believe it — the second is today!  We need to hurry, Lilly.
Straight after breakfast, we need to leave.”

They hurriedly finished their meal, then dressed into their adventuring gear [well, I couldn't think of a better name for it!].
Saddling their horses, they galloped off.

At noon, they arrived at the gates of Bree.  They slowed to a walk, and entered the town. 

Once inside, however, they were greeted by a surprise.  It seemed everyone in Bree was in commotion.  Small groups of two to five
were knotted into one massive crowd.  It required great care to maneuver around the people.

Due to the delay, it was nearly an hour before they reached the Prancing Pony.  “Nob!” cried Lilly.  “Will you see that our horses are taken to stable until we return?”

“Of course, Miss Lilly — or Mrs. Turandel, I should say,” replied Nob with a smile.

“Thank you,” replied Lilly.  They dismounted their horses, and handed the reins to Nob. 

“You’re quite lucky your horses were at your home, and not here,” said Nob.  “All the beasts in our stables were scared off not two nights ago.  It’s only a part of the reason the whole town is in uproar.”

Berethron and Lilly looked at each other.  Berethron asked, “What happened?”

Nob looked grave.  “Well, two nights ago, I was sent to fetch another hobbit from wandering around the streets.  I found him lying face down on the road.  When I picked him up, he says, ‘I thought I’d fallen into deep water,’ and then bolted back here like the whole town guard was after him.

“Later that night, the pony was attacked by the Blackwolds.  When Bob and I arrived, we found beds knocked over, broken windows, and a fortune stolen.  A lot of the guests had had their horses stolen or driven away.

“But the worst was yet to come.  The night after the raid — last night — some horsemen galloped through Bree like a whirlwind.  I was in bed when it happened, but the noise of it was like a gale.  I think the whole town was awakened by the sound.  We thought the end of the world was coming.”

Berethron’s eyes widened.  “Nob, did anyone actually SEE these horsemen?  What did they look like?”

“Very few saw them,” replied Nob.  “And those few who caught a glimpse won’t say a word about them — and those same people look like they saw a ghost.”

Berethron’s eyes filled with fear.  He turned to Lilly and said, “I can’t be certain, but I think the Nazgul rode through Bree last night.  The Blackwolds who attacked the Pony must have been working for them — remember the Black Numenorians we saw at their fort?  They mentioned the Nazgul.”

Lilly brought her hand to her mouth in fear.  “But this is terrible!  My worst fears were nothing compared to this!  If the Nazgul were here, who knows what other evils may befall us?”

Berethron put his hand on her shoulder.  “Don’t worry.  Let’s first meet this ‘G’ and see what he has to say.”

They entered the Prancing Pony.  The scene inside was not much different from what it was elsewhere in the town.  All the patrons seemed to be talking at once.  The only one who was not sitting and talking was Butterbur — he was right in the middle of the commotion, serving drinks to the patrons.  Berethron and Lilly walked up to him.

“Mister Butterbur?” asked Berethron, shouting over the clamour.  “Could you tell us if you have a visitor by the name of G?”

Butterbur finished placing drinks on the nearby table, then replied, “G?  Oh yes, that reminds me:  he told me if you asked for him, you’d use either G or Gandalf.  Just follow the stairs to the top, then turn right.”  He returned to his tray, and rushed to the next table.

Berethron and Lilly quickly walked out of the crowd, then went straight to the stairs.  When they reached the room, Berethron knocked at the door.

“Who is it?” asked a voice.

“It’s us, Berethron and Lilly,” Berethron replied.

“Come in,” came the reply.

They opened the door.  There in front of them, stood an old man with a long grey beard, and a robe to match.

“You are lost or seek me with intent. By the look in your eyes, I gather the latter, though I also sense you sought another…Strider perhaps? Then we have both come too late. Our mutual friend has left, bearing with him a terrible burden.

“I am Gandalf the Grey, a friend of Strider’s. If he set you to a task, it could not be much less urgent that his own. Tell me your tale, and I will deliver it to him.”
Berethron and Lilly looked back at each other, then back to Gandalf. 

“Well, I suppose I could begin with my arrival in Archet,” said Berethron.  “The ranger Amdir brought me there with some hobbits for safety.  We endured a battle within the town, but Amdir was captured.  Strider and his brethren helped us search for him, but we were forced to send him from the world — he was stabbed by a Morgul-blade, and became a wraith.

“Then Strider sent us to Tom Bombadil, who in turn sent us to the Barrow-downs.  We were taken to the Great Barrow of Othrongroth, where we had an encounter with several specters from the spirit world — I still think there is something down there, but Bombadil is convinced we did what was needed.

“However, we have heard rumour of the land of Angmar.  A dwarf we encountered in the barrow made mention of that name.  He said that the land had again arisen, and we have had encounters with the Nazgul.  And that is all I know.”

Gandalf looked long and hard at the pair.  “So Angmar arises? It is grim news, but I am not surprised. Nevertheless, I cannot turn aside from my own task, for the fate of all Middle-earth hangs upon it.
You have done much good for the people of Bree-land, but the Shadow out of Angmar spreads far and wide.

“I learned from Gwaihir the Windlord that another of my order has found corruption in the Lone-lands, east of Bree. It may even be related to the dangers you encountered in the Great Barrow.

“You should seek out Radagast the Brown. Do not fear him, for he is an ally. Gwaihir said that Radagast had gone to Ost Guruth, home of the Eglain. Now go. There is not much time.

“This burden I place upon you in the name of the Free Peoples of Middle-earth: Hinder the Witch-king’s plan, if you may. Whether east or north, I bid you good fortune. Farewell!”

“Farewell,” replied Berethron and Lilly, then they headed out the door.  When they reached the stairs, Lilly asked, “Just how do we hinder this plan of the Witch-king’s?  What can we do against an army bred by the Nazgul?”

Berethron thought a moment.  “Well, he said that we could find his friend Radagast in a place called Ost Guruth.  Where could that be?”

“I do not know,” Lilly replied.  “But I have heard of the Eglain.  They are a tribe of nomads who roam through the Lone-lands, far to the east of here.”

“Then east is where we must go,” said Berethron.  “And first we should return home to make the necessary preparations.”

Once they had returned home, they began to pack provisions for a long journey.  The preparations were long, taking nearly four days, but eventually they were complete.  “I’ve made some rations for us,” said Lilly.  “They were made for journyeing in the wild, and will keep a traveler on his or her feet for many hours.”

“Excellent,” Berethron replied.  “I’ve been able to secure supplies of my own — water, arrows for your bow, food for the horses, and sharpening stones for our weapons.  I think we’re ready — we’ll leave within the hour.”

The sun had just gone past 3 o’clock when they rode out of the entrance to the South Downs.  When they came to the road, Berethron halted.

“what is it?” asked Lilly. 

Berethron looked to the east.  “I do not trust the road, not when Nazgul have ridden along it the night before,” he said.

“But where shall we go?” asked Lilly.  “Head north through the marshes?”

“Yes,” said Berethron.  “I would rather face flies and midges than a Nazgul.”

“But don’t you remember?  The marshes are where we were attacked by orcs, not three weeks ago!”

“That was far to the west of here.  If we hurry, we could be across the marshes by the end of the day, and avoid any goblins there.  Unless our enemies are so greedy that they will attempt to control even the forsaken places of the north, the marshes are probably safer than the road.”

Lilly looked north to the stagnant pools of the Midgewater Marsh.  “Berethron, I have never journeyed this far east into the marshes.  This is as far as I have ever been away from my home.  I cannot lead us through that mess.”

“Don’t worry,” Berethron replied.  “I am no ranger, but I am familiar with their ways, and I have heard of the pass that leads out of the centre of the marshes and into the Weather Hills.  If there is any path to find, I can find it.”

Lilly sighed.  “Very well then, lead the way.”

Berethron had his horse walk into the marshes.  The land fell steeply as it went north of the road into the marsh.  Mist began curling in the air, and the sound of neekerbreekers was soon ringing in their ears.  Midges began swirling around their faces, and they had to swat them away.  But whether by chance, Berethron’s skill, or some other factor, they met no worse enemy that day than enormous flies that tried to sting them.

At sunset, they reached the northern border of the Midgewater.  A great wall of rock loomed up before them, the southern border of the Weather Hills.  Only one great pass opened up, the fabled Midgewater Pass.  It provided one of several routes from the Chetwood and Midgewater Marsh into the lands to the north.  “We have gone far enough for one day; we shall rest here tonight,” said Berethron.

He lit a fire, taking care to light it above the water line, where the ground was dry.  “Firewood!” he thought.  “I always forget something.  Well, at least their are some dead trees here, and they aren’t too wet.”

Lilly looked up the slope of the pass.  A chill ran through her.  She walked back to the fire, and sat down beside Berethon.  He looked at her.  “What is the matter, Lilly?  You seem nervous.”

“I am afraid,” she replied.  “I fear that something terrible lurks within that pass.”

“Don’t worry,” Berethron replied.  “Any self respecting-foe would not dare to cross the marshes.  This pass is known, but apparently not much-used, except by Rangers or vagabonds.  We’ll be fine.”

The night passed without incident.  Half an hour after sunrise, they were on their way once more.  The land began to change.  Instead of the dark green grass so common to Bree-land, some of the turf began to appear yellow or brown, the ground common to the Lone-lands.  Ancient Arnorian ruins appeared here and there, some of them on their path.  Just after noon, they crossed a wide river that formed an unoffical border between the Bree-land and Lone-lands sections of the Weather Hills.  The land again sloped steeply upward as they crossed.

As they neared the top of the slope, Berethron stopped his horse.  Lilly stopped hers alongside.  “What is it, Berethron?”

Berethron gasped.  “Do you see it, Lilly?”

She looked around.  “See what?”

Berethron pointed.  “Weathertop!”

Lilly looked farther ahead.  Then, she looked up in wonder.  A massive hill, at least 300 metres high, loomed some distance ahead.  At its top was a massive ruin of some ancient tower.

“My goodness!” Lilly exclaimed.  “So this is the magnificient Weathertop, which we have heard so much about!”

Berethron turned to her.  “Did you know, Lilly, that the kings of Arnor built that tower up there long ago, in order to keep watch on the lands near here?  And that it served as the home of one of the seven palantir?”

Lilly looked at him.  “What are those?”

Berethron explained.  “The palantir were seven globes of crystal.  Each stone — save one — had the ability to see the locations of the remaining stones.  Therefore, they could be used to send messages between important points and people.  And so Arnor and Gondor were defended for many years.  But Angmar destroyed the tower of Weathertop — Amon Sul — long ago.  What happened to its palantir, I do not know.  But this is what we nobles of Gondor have remembered throughout the many long years.”

Berethron had his horse start forward again.  “Lilly,” he said, “I must climb to the top of the hill.  I must stand in the place where my ancestors stood.  And I must offer prayers to Eru at the top, as did the ancient kings of Numenor upon the Meneltarma.”

Lilly stopped him.  “Meneltarma?  Ancient kings of Numenor?  Prayers to Eru?  What is all this?  I don’t understand a bit of it.”

Berethron explained that Meneltarma was the name of a sacred mountain at the centre of Numenor.  Three times a year, the king would lead the people in procession to the summit, where he would offer prayers to Eru.  But so sacred was the summit that no one was allowed to speak there, save the king.  Lilly chuckled.  “Are you going to keep me silent at the top of that hill?” she asked.  “No,” Berethron replied, “but I would ask that you remain silent while I pray.”

The ascent was long and hard, even with the horses.  The hill was tall and steep, and many paths were hard to travel due to the fallen stone.  It was after six o’clock by the time they reached the summit.  By then, the horses were panting and sweating.  “I’ll feed the horses,” said Berethron, “then I will go pray.” 

Once he had given fodder to the horses, he went to the centre of the ruins, where there was a massive space open to the sky.  In the middle of the circle was a pile of stones that looked as if they had been burned by fire.  He stood beside the stones, then opened his hands, raised his head, and began to whisper.

Lilly could not make out the words, but she didn’t mind.  She was too busy ensuring that the horses had enough to eat.  Soon Berethron returned.  “Lilly, someone was here just a few days ago.  That pile of stones was recently scorched by fire.  It seems there was a battle here.  And what a battle!  A lone fighter faced nine attackers, yet he fought them off, and fled towards the north.”

Lilly looked up.  “Well,” she said, whoever he was, he and his attackers are long gone, and we should get out of here as well.  It’s almost dark, and I don’t want to sleep on stone.”

It was nearly dark when they stumbled upon a small hollow at the western flank of the mountain.  It was more hospitable then the ruins at the summit — it offered a small amount of shelter, but in addition, there were stacks of firewood there as well.  It looked as if someone had been there recently.  Berethron stooped low. 

“Someone was here, only one day ago,” he said.  It was not our friend at the summit, but the attackers were the same, if in fewer numbers.  Yes, now I can make it out — four hobbits and a man were attacked here by whoever attacked the man at the summit.  They managed to drive off the attackers, but they abandoned this place very recently.  I would guess, in fact, that they stood here just this morning.”

Lilly said, “Well, whoever they were, their camp is ours now.  The firewood will come in handy.  Let’s make a fire and have dinner.”

Dinner passed swiftly, but the fire continued to burn high.  “Why do you keep the fire lit?” Lilly asked.  “Surely the attackers were attracted to it?”

“No, something else brought them to this camp,” said Berethron.  “I looked more closely at the battlefield.  The man at the summit blasted those rocks with flames.  And the man who defended the hobbits here had a flaming stick in each hand. And in both cases, the attackers drew away from the fire.  No, we will keep the fire going.  It may alert others to our presence, but it will serve as an excellent defense.”

Lilly stood up.  “I’m going to explore around this area,” she said.  “I want to stretch my legs.”

[Yes I know there's no fire there; I didn't think to light one when I took this screenshot!]

“Be careful,” said Berethron.  “We don’t know where our enemies may be.”

Lilly laughed.  “Don’t worry,” she said.  “I know what I’m doing.”

“Very well,” said Berethron.  “But don’t stay away too long.  If you’re not back in fifteen minutes, I’m going to look for you.”

He laid down, looking at the stars.  “I wonder where old Earendil is,” he thought.  He searched the night sky.  “Ah, there he is, riding his ship through the heavens.  Oh great Earendil, father of the kings of Numenor, keeper of the Silmaril, and brightest of stars!  How I love your light!”  He looked around.  “Where is Ithil, the moon?  He is off his course again!  Always he wishes to be near to Anor.  Silly Maia!  Stay in the night sky, like you should.”  He closed his eyes.

All of a sudden, a noisy gust of wind blew.  It became very cold.  Berethron shivered.  “What is this?  Is there a change in the weather coming?”  He looked around the hollow.  A dread began to creep over him.  He stood up, and threw more logs on the fire.  He grasped his halberd.  His heart began to pound.

He put his hands over hsi ears.  A massive screech rent the night air, as if it attempted to destroy all hearing and leave him deaf.  When it ended, he threw himself on the ground, gasping.  He quickly picked up his halberd with his right hand, and a flaming log in the other.  He put his back to the cliffside.  He was breathing hard and in a cold sweat.  He looked this way and that, searching for his enemy.  Then, they came.

A dark shadow appeared on one side of the dell.  As it entered the firelight, it became a dark cloak, blacker than the night.  Another appeared at another section of the hollow’s edge.  The two figures advanced.  There could be no doubt — Berethron was standing face to face with Nazgul.

The Nazgul advanced almost to the fire.  One spoke.  “So, three times we detect our foes in this place, and three times they use fire for defense!  Fools!  Fly away from this place and never return!”

The other came around the fire.  Berethron swung his torch in front of him.  The Nazgul slid away with a hiss.  “Come no nearer, fell spirit!” shouted Berethron.  “I am of the ancient race of the Dunedain, and my people fought the dark lord even on the slopes of Orodruin!  Approach me any closer, and I will roast your unseen face with fire!”

The Nazgul laughed.  “Foolish Dunedan!  We slew and pursued the Rangers of the North.  Just last night we fought one of them on this very spot.  The wretch tormented us with fire, but to no avail — his halfing companion will soon be ours, and Sauron shall regain what belongs to him!”  With a terrifying screech, the Nazgul raised his sword, then swung it toward Berethron, attempting to decapitate him.  Berethron ducked, and the blade swung over his head, connecting with the rock.  Berethron quickly stabbed his arm outward, and the torch hit the Nazgul in his invisible face.

The Nazgul gave another screech in pain.  His cloak blazed, and he turned and ran.  Berethron swung to face the other Nazgul.  The Nazgul, seeing his companion defeated so easily, backed away.  “Fool,” he whipsered, “the shadow of Mordor shall destroy you!”  He turned and ran.  He disappeared into the darkness.

Berethron collapsed against the cliff, breathing heavily.  When he recovered, he flung more wood on the fire, and it blazed higher and brighter than ever.  “Now I know why the fire was so effective in fighting them,” he thought.  He got a packet of water, and took a long draught.

Just as he was putting the cap back on, he heard a loud scream some distance off.  He dropped the water.  “Lilly!”

He picked up another torch and his halberd, and ran into the darkness.  He began to call.  “Lilly!  Lilly!”  He heard no answer, but some distance away, he heard a Nazgul’s screech rend the night air.  He dropped to his knees; the screech made his ears hurt.  He quickly staggered back to his feet, and continued searching.  “Lilly!”

Finally, he heard a moan nearby.  He ran to the spot.  Lilly was lying face down, her helmet shattered.  “Lilly!” cried Berethron.  He picked her up.  At once she grasped him so hard he hurt, and she began to sob.  “Be - Be - Bere –”

“Lay still,” said Berethron.  Then he turned grave.  Lilly had a large gash just below her arm.  She was bleeding heavily; some of the blood seemed black.  “No,” Berethron whispered.  He looked at her face; she was weeping. 

“Lilly,” Berethron said, “you have been stabbed — by a Nazgul!”