A Burg’s Tale: Chapter 5

“So, this was once Cardolan,” I mused aloud as I stood, hands on hips, surveying the swampy mess that was the southern part of the Barrow-downs. “Bit wetter than I expected, for sure.” Smellier, too, given the bogs and dead things roaming around, but I had limited exposure to it from my position and the mask I currently wore. “Why would anyone want to live here?”

I heaved a deep sigh and picked my way down the ridge as carefully as I could. The last thing I wanted was to turn my ankle and be at the mercies of barghests and wights. I had no intentions of becoming part of the natural cycle of life as food for those around me. Not before I had to, that is, and certainly not while attempting to help both a long-dead man and a bunch of panicked hobbits. I couldn’t really help them at all if I became a shambling wight possessed by some evil power and I couldn’t help but doubt that Sauron’s forces were in need of a thief-turned-cargûl. The robes were a pretty crimson, though.

I wasn’t sure where to head as I set off. All that I knew was that this Bone Man resided in this area somewhere. I aimed for the silhouettes of a ruin atop a huge hill in the southern distance on a hunch. If I’d had to steal a treasure from someone important enough to have a treasure in the first place, they would have to live in something that size. The worst that could happen (barring my horrible screaming death on the way) would be I was wrong. Even then, the ruins were high enough on the landscape that I could get a very good view of where I might proceed next in my search. I could really only hope that Strider had the hobbits safe and sound in Bree. I recalled how the Nazgûl had ridden out of Buckland and attacked the Pony in search of them and grimaced beneath my mask. Brigand camps, a settlement of hobbits, and now a full and healthy town of Men? They had more audacity than most might credit them with, given their master had no real strength yet.

Or does he? I wondered as I paused to let a trio of wights shuffle past. I didn’t know if the wights caused my sudden shiver of dread or the thought of Sauron returned to his full nefarious glory.

The track I took toward the high ruin bottomed out at the foot of the ridge in a muck-filled hollow brimming with the dead. I had to quickly retreat and kill several as I backtracked around to find a way up the ridge and then further up the hill approaching the broken towers of stone. The moon had begun to set by the time I arrived. It would be darker still in short order. The old saying about how things grew darkest before the dawning held more than a simple kernel of philosophical truth.

Even as I stepped foot on the cracked, decaying paving stones, several of them perhaps a hundred feet away scraped and moved. A tall, skeletal figure in armor and nearly rotted clothing, so far gone that I had no way of telling what their colors or patterns might have once been, climbed forth from the remnants of a cairn. What I did notice, however, was the ancient bow in his hand. It didn’t look as if it would snap at the first use, as it should have had the weapon been truly ancient and disused. Wood rotted just as flesh. Cat-gut string and wool rotted even faster.

The evil that came off of the wight caused me to step back once in a moment of fear before I could master myself. Somehow, my leg and back stung harder for the creature’s nearness. It saw me without attacking first. A hideous laugh erupted from the Bone Man that I likened to a serpent’s hiss before it proclaimed, “The wretched shades of Arthedain shall be my slaves.”

You just had to stop and help a ghost, didn’t you? I cursed myself silently. Just had to be a good person because bloody Strider the King of the Rangers flouted how honorable and great he was and you feel the need to match him or look foolish!

The Bone Man pointed with the hand not holding his bow and laughed once again. “Bow down, slave! The Bone Man will rend your flesh!”

I found myself transported back for a few moments into my memory. It came upon me so strongly I felt I dreamt for those handful of heartbeats. I was once again a young child, newly abandoned, caught by the wrist as I tried to pick a wealthy man’s pocket. He threw me down hard enough that I felt stunned. When I tried to scramble up and flee, his foot met my chest and shoved me down again. “Bow down and beg for forgiveness, boy!” the man had sneered down at me. “Perhaps you won’t lose your hand!”

Thinking of it now, I could hear the same arrogant sneer in the wight’s raspy voice though they had lived centuries apart. The same hand that I had nearly lost that day long ago clenched into a fist. “I am nobody’s slave, dead man,” I growled, sliding my knives out from their sheaths with soft singing sounds. “Come and have a go, if you’re tough enough.”

I had no way of creeping up behind him to get a good stab in from stealth. Even had I tried, the aura of fear that seemed to curl around him made it impossible to sneak up to him in that way. Instead, I moved to flank him, and he took it as a charge. He lifted his bow, fired an arrow that barely missed me, and switched to a sword as I closed to melee range too quickly for him to get off another shot. I went in and slashed at his bow arm, given it was closest to me, and rolled out of the way of his return thrust. I didn’t fight in a formal manner. I had never been taught a polite way of warfare. I knew the dirty, ugly methods of survival on the streets and back alleys of Lake-town, full of leg sweeps, kicks, and quick knives to the kidneys and major vessels. I wasn’t some champion or protector who would run head-first into battle screaming a war-cry and using brute strength to overpower my opponents. No, I was the sneak-thief who didn’t work well face-to-face and within striking distance. Agility and speed were my hallmarks.

But that didn’t mean I wouldn’t knock someone’s teeth out with my fist or break their bloody noses given even a sliver of a chance.

A kick to the Bone Man’s midsection sent it staggered away and I followed it with a quickly thrown dagger meant for one of its hollow eye sockets. The knife stuck and yet the undead monstrosity came back at me with its sword lifted. “Why can’t you have a brain like a normal thing?” I groused mostly to myself. I kept dodging its strikes while waiting for openings to use to my advantage. I didn’t know if my knives were even doing much damage to it given it kept coming for me long after its lesser wight brethren would have fallen.

A blow with the butt of my dagger to the back of the wight’s spinal column, at his neck, produced a satisfying crack. I had little time to enjoy my success, however, since the Bone Man whipped around and planted the end of his bow into my temple. I saw stars for several dangerous moments as I tottered, woozy, away from him trying to get out of his reach. Instinct more than anything screamed for me to dodge right – and I heard the distinct sound of a sword passing so close to my ear that I knew I’d barely evaded death. I found myself in luck when a glance up showed the undead creature moving in for another attempt. I faked my continued wobbliness long enough to let it close and lashed out for its sword-hand with a booted foot without warning. It connected, the Bone Man dropped its entire hand complete with weapon still gripped in it, and I scooped up the bony extremity and hilt.

I wasn’t good with a sword. I didn’t have to be for what I had in mind. The hand twitched and jerked until it found it couldn’t make me lose my own grip. Only then did it open and fall to the ground with a clatter upon the stones. When the Bone Man tried to use its bow as a club, I swept the sword out to parry and then used my position to slice at the wight’s head with all of my strength. Bone didn’t usually sever readily, but in this case, it had a long-dead body rather than a fresh, living one that a headsman might encounter. The spine had already been weakened by me earlier. The Bone Man’s helmed skull flew from its shoulders as the sword itself clanged against the stone, sparking slightly.

As the body dropped at last in front of me, I had only a moment before something unseen, like a wave of pressure, struck me like a physical blow to my chest. The power of it sent me to my back onto the ruins, sword out of my reach, and I lay there once again unable to move. My vision swam as darkness threatened to overtake me; yet, through the growing darkness before the pre-dawn, I watched as a brief flare occurred and dozens of spirits burst from the falling form of the Bone Man to scatter in all directions. “Free!” they cried in their triumphant, ghostly voices, full of inexpressible joy in that one word.

I lay there for a long set of moments gathering my wits about me again and wondering what I had just done. I was reminded once again of the Shade’s words about those who had died alongside him, before his brother, and wondered if I had misunderstood something the wraith had said. Had he meant his brother as well as his fellow soldiers had been cursed to wake and defend the realm from the Bone Man and whoever had awakened these souls?  It seemed, at least, that more than just the Wandering Shade had been involved, regardless.

I sat up and rubbed where I had been struck and then where I had struck my head on the rough, rocky ground. I got to my feet slowly and retrieved my weapons, looting the Bone Man’s form afterward too (I wanted some kind of reward for my efforts in this), and dragged his bow and sword along strapped to me. I could sell them for some coin once I got back to Bree.

I made my way back around the deep hole that had so many of the dead in it at the foot of the hill, over the ridge that made the border between the northern and southern Barrow-downs, and aimed for the Dead Spire. I was already tired. I had been awake all night. It wasn’t the first time for me, but I hadn’t had to work quite so hard while doing it. I wanted to tend to my scrapes and bruises and have at least an hour or two for a nap before continuing on. Perhaps, once I delivered the news to Tom Bombadil and Strider of what I’d found out from Andraste, I could be free of the situation and return to a normal life.

This thought helped me as I walked. I began a counter-clockwise path around the Spire to find the ghostly figure I sought sooner rather than later, given the other direction would mean I chased him instead. He floated toward me at last and I came to a halt to wait for him. I didn’t even get the chance to say anything before he exhaled in a happy sounding sigh. “I suppose you know I was successful,” I said instead.

The shade replied, “Hear you this brother? / Hear you absolution? / Rest now, brother, / rest as we were / as we shall be.”

“I’ll take that as a thank you,” I remarked drolly. “You and your brother can go back to sleep, now. I suppose all the other spirits that came from the Bone Man are your… shield brothers, right?”

“Yes,” it breathed, sounding even more pleased somehow.

“They can rest, now, too.” I nodded at him. “Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

I turned to move off, but the Shade lifted a hand. Great, I thought. What now? “Duty done, again, to rest at last I yearn.”

I closed my eyes. “You and me, both, ghost.” Get on with it, I wanted to tell the thing.

“So too my brother, wandering by night. A spirit lost brings naught but fright,” it continued, as if explaining the situation to me.

I opened my eyes. “I can only imagine so,” I said after a moment, trying not to sound too impatient. “You need something from me, still. I can tell. What is it?”

He held out his hand. I could see the ring I had returned through the blue-tinged being and wondered how it could hold on to anything material in this state. Then again, I reminded myself, how is any of this possible? Magic, most likely. Something beyond your ken. “Provide this ring, show him it is done,” the Wandering Shade told me. “Then we rest ‘neath Moon and Sun.” He turned and looked to the east and said aloud, “Our duty done, brother, / hear the call of slumber. / Know at last peace, / rest, interred again eternal.”

I looked the direction it had faced. The only thing I knew of in that direction was Bree. I pocketed the shade’s ring and frowned. “He’s in the town of Bree?” I asked the figure.

It turned back to me. “Yes. Wandering by night.”

I nodded slightly. “I have to return to Bree ‘ere long. I’ll find him there.” I smirked faintly. “A ghost wandering around, as you said, tends to scare people. I shouldn’t have a hard time following that trail to him.” I nodded at him. “Rest well. Hopefully, eternally this time in truth.”

I turned and headed back to the ridge line that separated the Barrows from the Old Barrows Road and forest beyond. I found that the creatures no longer worried me as they had when I first entered the area at the beginning of the night. Perhaps I had simply grown used to the idea of them enough that it took more to frighten me, now. The sword and bow at my back made for more weight so that, by the time Bombadil’s home came back into view, my thighs and calves burned in ways I hadn’t felt since my training in Dale before I got married.

Goldberry was nowhere to be seen and I found myself relieved, mostly. I set the sword and bow down on Orald’s front porch and made my way down to the edge of the Withywindle for a drink and to freshen up slightly. I removed my mask to do it and, when I heard no skipping and singing, pulled off my shirt to let the cold water wash the gash across my back as best it could. I replaced my shirt and such afterward and removed the boot on my wounded leg so that I could run it in the clean water, too. It was all that I could afford given the time I had. I could find a surgeon in Bree to check them over, and perhaps the sale of the weapons would help me afford some healing draughts.

By the time I made it back to the porch, dawn was coming. It wasn’t ideal when I laid out on Bombadil’s porch, but it was better than the ground and I was just too exhausted to care much. I pillowed my head on my arms for a little rest and dropped off fast.

I woke to the sound of birds nearby and soft, feminine laughter. I could hear someone speaking and a man replying, both happily, but it took me several minutes to swim up from my tired state to remember where I was. When I did, I lifted my head quickly and instantly regretted it. The pain from how I’d lain was enough to have me cursing softly. The birds fluttered away quickly as I managed to push myself up. Someone had lain a blanket over me and, by the sense of things with the amount of light that came from above, I judged it to be close to late afternoon. My stomach growled and I tried to loosen up my neck and shoulders, my limbs, from how stiff and sore they all were.

Goldberry called my name. When I looked up toward her, I reacted fast enough to catch the apple she tossed in my direction. She winked at me, laughed, and moved past me to enter her home. She left me with Tom’s smiling face for company. “Hey do, merry do!” he greeted me cheerily. “Did you find the sour crows and dreary lady?”

I crunched into the apple hungrily and nodded. “I did,” I replied around the mouth full of fruit that I had taken. “Neither will be troubling us any longer.”

“You seem troubled and weary, friend,” he told me. “My lovely found you a blanket when we came upon you. Resting away your worries makes the day seem brighter even in the gloom.”

I swallowed and motioned with the apple in my hand. “It’s not over just yet. I’m not sure what to do next. I should probably take my information back to Strider so that he can find someone to handle it.” I paused with the apple at my mouth and grimaced. “He’ll just tell me to. Ask me to, I suppose, but what choice do I have? He can’t leave the hobbits and every Ranger I know right now seems to either be dead or in recovery from attempted murder.”

I had another bite of my apple and then said, around it, “The woman with the crebain, her name was Andraste. She wasn’t dressed like anyone from this area. She said the lord of the Nazgûl was coming to Othrongroth and she was going to tell him about the Ring and the hobbits.” I shook my head, crunching the bite I had taken, and swallowed it. “He won’t get the information, now, but if he’s still on his way…” I frowned. “There were some, I think he was one of them, that turned Amdir into a cargûl. And that strange dwarf…” I trailed off again, an idea creeping unbidden into my mind.

Orald was cannier and wiser than he looked or seemed. “The Great Barrow is not a place for weak hearts or frail limbs. Wicked wights and evil lords make merry in their terror. They’ve never caught Old Tom and never will they. He’s the Master!” He skipped around for a few moments as I watched him.

“Then you’re saying if I go there, I should be careful.” I tapped my lips with the apple. “It would be a good thing if I could slip in and spy on them, overhear what plans they might have.” I lifted my index finger. “But that’s a suicide mission, isn’t it? If everything in the Great Barrow is that strong, what chance do I have of even getting through it? Let alone facing down the lord of the Nazgûl and that powerful dwarf lord with him if they should find me there?” I crunched the apple again, still pondering.

Bombadil said nothing. I watched him skip in his yellow boots and listened to him singing for a time as I considered. I hadn’t been asked to go to Othrongroth. Strider had no idea this was happening. The only one who did was me. I could take my information to Strider at this point and not say anything about the meeting. I could walk off into my old life without worrying about the Ring or putting myself into danger for other people. I could give the shade’s ring to his equally ghostly brother so they rested and call my part in this whole play done. Go back to life as a thief and assassin. Watch my son grow up to become something I wasn’t; something better than I could ever be.

Thoughts of Leith struck me as surely as the unseen wave that came from the Bone Man a few hours ago. The One Ring was in the lands. Sauron’s strength grew ever more powerful. The Nazgûl rode out looking for that Ring, but what were they doing otherwise? Creating cargûl out of wounded Rangers? Meeting with strange dwarf lords? Allying themselves with brigands and ne’er-do-wells as Angmar stirred in the north? They had more than just their quest to retrieve their Master’s ring to do out in these lands. I knew it and now that I knew where their leader would be going, I wanted to forget I had ever heard about it. I was the only one who knew who could find out what was happening here. I had a chance to do something so very right, for a change, that it would help balance out all of my lifelong wrongs. But, more importantly, it would mean I could protect my son from slavery and worse were Sauron to reach, via Angmar, past the Misty Mountains cold to touch the lands where my only reason for living remained.

I couldn’t not do this, I finally decided as I finished my apple and studied the core. Not if I truly loved my son.

When I looked up, Bombadil stood in front of me with his hands clasped behind his back. I startled at his presence and he held out a hand for the core. I placed it in his palm. “New life from the old, as it should be,” he told me warmly. “I can plant these seeds and the forest will nurture them so they grow big and strong.”

I blinked at him and tipped my head slightly. “Sometimes, the greatest thing we can do is not interfere with those that know best,” I agreed.

He beamed at me. “If you be a-going,” he declared, “Tom will take you!”

I rose to my feet and moved the bow and sword out of the way. I then turned and dug the ring out of my pocket. I went to his door and knocked on it lightly. When I was told to enter, I did so. I offered Goldberry the ring and told her, “If I don’t return, wait for someone else and have them give this to the ghost in Bree. It’s his brother’s ring. Or, perhaps, one of the hobbits in Buckland who’s going that way. If I do come back, I’ll take it there myself. And the weapons outside.”

She accepted the band and nodded at me. “I remember the battle where this was lost,” she told me with brief sobriety. It vanished as she laughed again. “I’ll wait for your return, Morchandir. I have no doubt that you will.”

I bowed to her and exited. Once outside again, I walked down the steps and faced the much shorter Orald. “Well, my merry fellow! Ready to go a-leaping over barrows?” he asked brightly. “Bring your friends and skip along. We’ll sing a song that will make the Dark Ones rattle.”

I shook my head. “It’s just me. I don’t have any friends.”

He motioned and began to skip up the Old Barrows Road. “Never fear! You will find some soon, I wager. No man can walk alone forever, my hearty!” He gestured with a hand. “Not even old Tom!”