Fun Places, Fun Loot: Haudh Iarchith

Oh golly, what did I get myself into here? “Sure,” they said, “you can’t get yourself lost in these simple ruins.” Yet, here I am. It must’ve been five hours since I’ve entered this gosh-forsaken tomb (or, at least so my stomach gurgles say…I’ve surely missed fourth, fifth, and sixth breakfast – and seventh is right around the corner!).

How did that wily Zyngor trick me into coming to the Barrow Downs in the first place? Knew I shouldn’t trust that elf…when I get outta here, I’m putting neeker-breekers in his quiver! And that chuckle when he just up and poofed on me, I could just…wait…is that light I see?

Shucks, just another one of those weird floaty lightballs. *shields eyes* Don’t they know it’s rude to keep their high-beams on? This is probably how the Mouth of Sauron came to be. “Get lost,” I barked. Then again, sure seems like it found she who got lost in this cruel crumbling crypt.

Once I was able to swat away Mr. Blindy, my eyes focused on what appeared to be a whole bunch of undead shambling my way. That, or an army of Lalia clones (I’ve seen her in the morning before opening up shop…without coffee, that girl just seems to putz around Bree, knocking into stalls and usually ending up in trouble).

Luckily, I had my trusty club with me, and had no qualm against releasing a little playing a little game of Knock-the-Head-in-the-Tomb (I hear the chickenball team was soon to get back together; I needed to practice my aim anyways). As they fell, plenty of shiny doodads and trinkets tumbled on the beaten ground. Oh boy do I love my shinies! These Cardolan Trinkets should fetch a good price with the people of Bree (and even more with those who wish to earn the favor of Bree). Zyngor ain’t gettin’ any, though…that arrow-head.

Feeling a bit arrow-headed myself, I stumbled over to a conveniently-placed throne. That’s really the only beauty of a catacomb like this – plenty ‘o places to rest that fanny…at least when the dead actually stay dead (an often rare occurrence in this world, unfortunately).

Speaking of…not a tummy growl later should I hear a low moan. “Uhh, hello?” I squeaked, dangling my feet off the edge of the seat, seeing if my toe hairs could evolve extrasensory perception. No such luck. The moan turned into a deep breathy wail, as I swiveled my head around the chamber. “Is that you, Zyngor…don’t be a jerk!” I cried out.

Not two shakes of a lamb with mint sauce later did a sickly face appear from behind a pillar. “Myyyy chairrrr,” it spoke. Not hesitating a moment, I leapt from the seat and booked it as quickly as my hobbity legs could take me. After running for what felt like an Age or two, I had to stop, take a breath, and get my bearings. Fiddle-sticks! I was right back at this fellow’s recliner! I hate this place!

“Comeee back to ssssssstay?” the wrinkly wight pondered. “Not if I can help it!” I yelped back, rushing at the creature with my club feverishly swinging up high (the consequences of short beings taking on those with their “head in the clouds”). *CLONK* Well, clonking is one of my favorite sounds, along with CHOMP and SQUEEE. Sure enough, the fellow’s head was swung right off, resting on the throne. I stood there for about five minutes, trying to come up with a good pun, ’til I realized the only that’d hear it would be the wandering spirits and ‘ol Bulby.

Along with the random assortment of equipment and treasures that spilled from his trousers, my hobbit sense began to tingle. Could that be…is it…food? Reaching into its pocket, I secured what looked to be a small wheel of cheese. Well, I might be stuck in here until that jerk comes back and guides me out, but at least a snack has been saved!

It smelled a bit pungent – but then again, who am I to refuse a spoil from who I imagine might have been named Viktor? I took a nice big bite.

Oh my.

I don’t feel so well.

Why is this room spinning?

Oh dear, I think I’m gonna…