All disclaimers apply.

Inspiration: "Skeleton Attack" by Rohan Stevenson

I heard a faint crow caw and the fluttering of wings as birds flew east. The Rangers I was riding with knocked arrows and fired at the birds, each taking a bird down. "Crebian, spies of the enemy." Lengilin explained. The flock changed course now going southwest some peeling off to go east. "Strider, before going to Amdir's aid I chased off a few of those birds from Bolger. He apparently let something slip about a ring and a Baggins." Strider almost fell off his horse from shock.

"My brother's you must watch the Old Forest, I will be at the Prancing Pony. Danagor, I know it is late and food will strengthen you, but seek out Tom Bombadil at the end of the Withywindle, the river that runs through the Old Forest. Tell him Aragorn sent you. The safety of my charges are more important right now." We parted ways, I followed the other Rangers west once we reached the sight of Bree. Going over a creek, I realized that Strider had given me his name. I couldn't place it, but it sounded important to be hidden under a false name.

Passing the Northern Barrowdowns, Lengilin spoke. "Follow the west border of the Barrowdowns and you will come to the source of the Withywindle River. Follow the banks and you will find Tom's house but beware Old Man Willow." Then an afterthought seemed to occur. "Or find Tom's wife Goldberry. She often helps travelers in need, but she seems to saddened by something judging by the waters of her spring."

I rode into the Old Forest, soon losing sight of the road. I was tired and hungry. At least my horse seemed all right. I didn't want to walk when speed was needed. The horse seemed to want to go west. I let it. Horses were sensitive to nature. After a while, I came to a pond the waters slightly murky. A series of falls fed the pond. An elf maid sat on a stone singing softly of starlight and water.

She wore a green dress, with flowing gold embroidery sewn in the patterns of water. Her eyes were a clear shade of blue. Hair the color of bright sunlight. "You let your horse lead you here, that shows good sense. Not many would let their horse wander." I got off my horse and bowed. "Lady Goldberry, Aragorn sent me to hunt Crebian birds that will soon bring great danger to a group of travelers." Goldberry smiled. "You are well spoken for a man of the Dúnedain. Aragorn is a friend to my husband and a friend of mine. We have taken care of the birds and the group of travelers Aragorn seeks just left this forest." She laid a white hand on my shoulder. "Come, you need rest and the forces of shadow are best fought during the morn."

Goldberry led me through the forest. Wherever she went, the forest seemed to brighten. All the woodland animals watched us as we passed. Tom's house was made of stone and wood. The windows hung from the attic providing views over the forest and the waters. I heard light music coming from the house. Goldberry opened the door and I couldn't help but smile.

"Hoy now! Hey now! What's all this fussing? We've not had so many guests since our wedding!" Tom was dressed in a blue jacket, leather pants and hat. He skipped about the room, his arms away from him flapping up and down with his steps. "My name is Danagor, Aragorn sent me to hunt the Crebian in this forest." Tom skipped over to me and kept at it in place. "Hoy now! Aragorn's a name I know, and a friend of Old Tom's! Oh but you look all dreary, eat and rest. Then we'll be merry!"

The meal was a mixture of herbs and other garden grown foods. The food made me sleepy and I admit I passed out at the table. When I awoke, the morning sun shone in through the window. A blanket had been placed over my shoulders, my bow, quiver, shield and sword hung on a wall. Today would be a good day.

"Hey now! The sleeper awakes and just in time. Ol' Tom has a problem with the barrows, waking when the dead should be resting. Follow Tom and we'll sing a tune that will make the dead ones rattle! Wife left to hold the streams and ponds of the forest, while the Master is away." He skipped out the door, and I grabbed my equipment. Getting up, I realized that my armor had been cleaned for me and put back on without me noticing.

Tom was strange, but I followed him to the Barrowdowns. As soon as we left the forest border, the mists grew thicker. Clouds gathered in the sky. Everything was a gray shade. Barrows dotted the landscape. We approached a high hill, with an entrance set into it. The dwarf from earlier stood there along with another of the Nine. Tom stopped skipping and my hope turned to doubt. "What are we doing here? This place feels wrong." The tenseness in the air seemed greater than it had been, even where five Nazgul had gathered. The Witch King of Angmar himself. I knew it in my gut.

Tom whispered. "This is an evil place and barred from me for the time being. You be careful, or the dead might make you be dancing with them." The Witch King spoke, his voice deep. "Come, Skorgrím." They went into the barrow. Heart in throat, I followed. Down twisting passages, carved in stone. Tombs lined the way, some broken open from the inside. Blood stains often dotted the floor. Lit torches flickered, the mist at my feet covering the ground. Dwarves rushed me. "You heard Skorgrím. No one get past!" This is so wrong, Dwarves are usually a peaceful folk, not against Middle Earth at all. They didn't give me much of a choice so I cut them down.

After cutting down five or six dwarves with a mix of axes and swords, I came to a small chamber. The dwarf waiting for me was taller than usual and built with muscles bulging underneath leather armor. He swung his axe and I cut it in half. My skills from all this fighting were improving. I only had a few cuts so far. The dwarf squealed like a pig and ran to a loose section of wall. "My lord said we couldn't be defeated!" I heard a clatter that I had heard once before. Wights.

The dwarf screamed as the wall fell on top of him. Two wights emerged with swords drawn. "The dead suffer no intruders." The voice was dry and hollow as if it hadn't been used for years. "How can it talk? It has no tongue or anything!" I knocked one's head off with my first strike but it continued slashing around the room. I dealt with the other wright by sweeping it's legs off, but it still kept coming. Had to admit they were persistent. I dealt with them both almost lazily. Nothing left but a pile of bones scattered around.

Beyond the false wall, I came to a hallway that ended with a series of steps leading down into a high chamber. The Witch King was speaking and I listened. "Ivar is with us, my regent in the north awaits you once your tasks are complete." The dwarf said something that I couldn't make out. "Saruman is of no consequence, he will not find what he seeks. Our plans in Eriador are reaching their end." The Witch King paused as if searching for something.

Fear froze me to the spot as the hood turned towards me. "It appears we have an audience of a fool and fools aren't to be suffered to dog your steps. The Dead will take you, Danagor." The Lord of the Nazgul and the dwarf Skorgrím left the chamber, the doors closing behind them. A wight armed with two swords emerged from the ground. We fought around the chamber, sparks flying. I rolled behind it and it formed an X behind it's back with it's swords. I kept rolling and leapt up in front of it, my blade severing it in two. It collapsed with a screech and then reformed except now it had four arms. Two axes had now joined it's swords. "I'm in trouble."

Once it's arms started swinging it was hard for it to stop. The dead warrior was top heavy. I thrust forward with my shield, sending one of it's swords flying. I rolled behind and slashed upward, cutting it from waist to shoulder. It fell and stayed dead this time. The doors behind me were craved in the shape of a skull and the doors opened once the guardian was dead. Through the doors lay another chamber, surrounded by standing tombs. Some were vacant.

Sitting in an ornate throne made of bones was a heavily armored wight. It's armor was also made of bones. Twisted together it was elaborate and disturbing. The ribs made a chest plate while leg and arm bones made a sort of plating over the arms and legs. "Greetings, fool. If you seek an audience with me you may approach." I had never heard a wight speak like this before and it made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. Imagine a voice that hasn't been used for years mixed with a dry throat. Only the dark power than keeps it alive speaks through it.

I approached. "Well met! My Master sends his greetings. I grant thee the boon of an audience before I kill thee. Thou seemed desirous of certain knowledge, so I will give it. For the Dead speak not!" The wight laughed and the sound echoed all around me. It was high and cold. "My Master seeks a great a power for the Dark Lord, but the Dark Lord has more designs than this. The Pale Dwarf shall go to the north and gather an army in the name of Angmar and the Witch-king! The gaunt one, a great power himself and to whom I owe this form, goes to the east. There, in Agamaur, he shall awaken a Power that lies sleeping in the waters. With her under his command, the skies will turn to blood and all shall despair! Now thine audience comes to an end. Thy death awaits thee."

The Wight Lord charged, his first strike almost skewering me. A long cut grazed my side, sapping my strength. Poison. I ducked and his blade hit my shield. I blocked and parried, but I was getting weaker. My sword swings getting slower. The Wight Lord seemed to know this and was in no hurry to add to his ranks of the dead. He swept my legs out from under me and raised his sword high as my vision swam in and out. A distant voice called, "Hey do, merry do!" The wight began cowering. ""What? It cannot be!" The wall behind him smashed apart and Tom emerged. "What be you a-thinking? Dead men should not be waking!" Lighting blasted the wight to ashes. "Vala." Tom wasn't done yet.

"Vanish into sunlight, leave your barrows empty!" He stretched his hands towards the roof and rocks fell from the ceiling burying the crypts. Tom stood over me with concern. "Oh dear, scrapes and sickness. Ol Tom will heal you quick as leaping." I passed out, sleep taking me. I awoke back in Tom's house, his wife Goldberry drawing out the poison and healing my wounds with words in Quenya. The magic of the waters took away the poison, witch had colored the wound on my side a shade of dark green and black. The wound closed and I fell back asleep.

When I awoke again, Tom was whistling cheerfully. He skipped around the room in his dancing steps. "Heal fast you do, scar will stay with you for the rest of your days. Was it worth the trouble? Did you learn your lesson? Leave the Dead to sleep their dreamless sleep and walk yourself upon the green grass under the sun!" I got up and found my armor had been repaired and cleaned again. It seemed that old magic flowed in this house. "Who was that wight Tom? What was the Lord of the Nazgul doing with someone called Ivar?" Tom's face went pale.

"Old barrow-wights from Angmar came. They disturb the peace and trouble folk who wander through their mounds. Let the Dead sleep and leave their troubles in the earth. Unless of course you wake them, dancing on their rooftops! Hey, come, my friend. Linger here no longer. To Bree you should be a-going. You've an old friend of Tom's there who awaits you!" My horse neighed outside. I was still troubled by what I had heard. Saddling my horse, I noticed that it had been fed and watered. The sun was high in the sky.

In my pack, somebody had placed Lembas bread in it. A boon for lengthy journeys. "Goldberry made that for you, friend Danagor. Blessed by the river daughter, they will bring you out of a scrapes. Farewell!" Tom patted my horse and it broke into a full gallop. I barely held on in time. The ride to Bree was fast, the landscape passing quickly. Windswept and disheveled, I realized I had arrived the Prancing Pony. Looking back, I realized that the gate I went through had been trampled down while I was away. It was a blessing by the Valar that no one had been trampled by my horse going at a full gallop through the streets.

Stabling my horse was a challenge, my knees had gone wobbly. I walked left and right as if drunk. I steadied myself before the bar inside the tavern. "Oh, hello there again." Barliman approached, cleaning a glass. "I was so busy that I didn't see you, but there's never a moment's peace here, if I may say so. I was so worried that he'd sour my beer for letting Mr, uh, Underhill and his friends go off with that Strider fellow!" Apparently Strider had done his job in watching for his charges. "Who came looking for Strider?" I asked. Someone was here waiting for me.

It took Barliman awhile to answer. "He who? Oh! Why that would be Mr. Gandalf, of course! They say he's a Wizard or some such, and I'll say there must be something to those tales, for my beer's never been better! He was so pleased..." He trailed off. "Begging your pardon, but I do run on sometimes. Gandalf said to send anyone looking for Strider up to his room. It's up the stairs just beyond Strider's."

I went up the stairs, before knocking I swallowed. I admit I was nervous meeting Gandalf the Grey. I knocked. "Why do you knock? Knocking is not for those that are expected. If you are expected, you can walk right in. An enemy would create an enormous amount of ruckus and noise." I walked in. The Gray Pilgrim acted just like some of the old men among my village. Grumpy.

Gandalf was dressed as the tales said...gray robes and pointy hat. His old eyes bored into mine. Studying me. I let him make of me as he wished. I seemed to pass some sort of test because he smiled warmly. Immediately I felt at ease. "You are lost or seek me with intent. By the look in your eye, 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. 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."

I simply said, "Angmar stirs, Gandalf. I have seen the Wicth King himself in the Barrowdowns and this is what I heard from the Lord of the Nazgul and a Wight Lord. Someone called Ivar goes east to Agamaur, while a dwarf called Skorgrím goes north to gather an army in his name. Other than this, he mentioned he had a regent in Angmar and Saruman was no matter." Gandalf took in my words. "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." He looked upon me, eyes boring into my soul. "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." He shook my hand.

Courage flared in my heart. "You have done much good for the people of Bree-land, but the Shadow out of Angmar spreads far and wide. I have 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. I will send word to Radagast that you are coming to his aid. You will find him on the steps of Ost Guruth, home of the Eglain." Gandalf paused. "Of course, he wanders off on occasion. I myself must hurry to Rivendell, to speak with Elrond about this matter."

We left the Pony, and exited out the south gate and turned east. The Midgewater Marshes went past on our left. The road went through a small forest. It was late afternoon by the time we entered the Lone Lands. The road turned into a dust trail. Gandalf's cloak whipped about him with a fury, his eyes steely. Every now and then a butterfly would fly to him and keep pace. After a few moments it would fly off to be replaced by another. The Wise were said to have the ability to talk to one another across vast distances and send animal messages to others. A white butterfly flew to him and Gandalf was away like a speeding arrow. It wasn't natural for a horse to gallop that fast.

The landscape was hilly, the road going across arid regions. The plant life here was small and struggling. Weathertop stretched high from the landscape, an abandoned fortress. The sun was setting and I heard a loud call. "Help! Darkness, corruption, the Dead!" A man appeared on the road, I brought my horse to a stop. Rearing high, the man calmed my horse with a whisper on the wind.

The old man skin was leathery and tan, with a brown hat that looked like it had been trodden on. Bird poop stained his scraggly hair. His eyes were slightly unfocused. His brown robes were dirty and stained. Radagast the Brown. "You came in time! Gandalf just passed saying he'd bring help, but one can't be picky when help is offered." I got off my horse. "I..." Radagast stopped mid-sentence. "There it goes again! I can never.." He stopped as a sigil fell into his hand. "Ah, there it is. Ivar the Bloodhand has come to Agamaur and the men here now call it the Red Swamp. I have seen an army of wights forming and the Red Maid must be purified from the old blood that has been spilled." I used the time to break off a small piece of Lembas and I felt healthier than I'd ever been.

A sled driven by rabbits came thundering up. They were larger than the rabbits back home, about the size of small dogs. One of them began thumping his leg hurriedly. "Quite right, my friend. We must hurry." He gazed at my horse and it galloped away the lighted ruins of a tower built into the side of the hills. "She'll be fine, your Sarto." With a start, I realized that I didn't know my own horse's name.

"Come on! Ivar isn't going to wait." Radagast grabbed my shoulder and before I knew it, we were crossing towards the hills, heading for a sheer rock wall. "I should've stayed at Evendim!" I yelled. As the high cliff got closer, I made the mistake of looking at my feet. The ground was at least four feet below us. We landed in a swamp just outside the cliffs witch now had a path between them. Swamp water went everywhere as the sled landed and kept going. Passing the high hills, everything around us turned red, the mists, the ground, the water, the plant life, the stones. Everything.

The sled stopped. Radagast let go of my shoulder and I simply fell backwards with a squish as the mud of the swamp broke my fall. "This is no time for a mud bath." Radagast appeared over me. I got up wobbly in the knees. The ground erupted in front of us and four wights appeared. Radagast swept them away with a few moves of his staff, twirling around so fast that it blurred.

All that remind of the wights were a few bones. The wizard began walking as if nothing remarkable happened. I followed, having now reached the point where I had seen everything. The wights were easy, they were the same ones from the barrows. Parry, thrust, slash. A few times Radagast had to open gates, going deeper into the ruins. Inside I saw another wight who was clearly the leader by his throne of stone. He wore only a kilt and his skin was purple and black, like his sword. His smile made me even more nauseated.

"Greetings Radagast and Danagor, my master send you his greetings and regrets that he will not be here in person to watch you die. Your deaths however will have some use for your blood will be spilt into the spring of the Red Maid." He pointed towards an urn. "Of old, the lady who watched these waters would calm them with water from this urn. Sacred water served her well, but blood of the men of Rhudaur and Arthedain has given Ivar control." Radagast's face turned red.

"Prideful words, Neven. In fact, someone has heard those words." Radagast stepped aside and I saw my first Oathbreaker. It was a pale white ghost in white and pale leather armor, dented for use and done in the old style, back when Angmar was waging war. "You forget your place, Dannasen." The wight said. "You may have your freedom if you kill these two." The Oathbreaker simply spoke in a tired voice,"I am neither with you or against you. You gave me a command as my lord, but I can choose to do nothing."

The wight's hands twisted. "Fine, I'll deal with them myself." His first strike was for the wizard, and I blocked it expertly. Radagast began chanting of nature and clean waters. I felt myself being uplifted by it, my swings matching the wights in speed. I slashed his arm off and ran through the chest. The wight clattered to the floor, his bones and clothes sinking back into the stone. I felt something become undone behind me, like a windy breath of the free. Dannasen's form shone brighter and a sword appeared in his hands. He saluted us with his blade in the air.

"Rise my brother's! Fight the spawn of Angmar!" All around us, shades appeared and the sounds of battle began in the swamp. Shouts, yells, the twang of bows. Metal on metal. I also heard laughing. The high, cold laugh of a wight lord. Except it was louder and echoed without being in a cavern. "Ivar." Radagast nodded in agreement. "You must keep Ivar busy, while I purify the waters." Radagast picked up the urn with a grunt.

Outside it was something out of a ghost story. The Oathbreakers fought against the wights, pathetically few against so many. The wights were thickest to the north an army of skeltons in armor and armed with a mixture of weapons. I began to go north, advancing towards the wall of death. I stabbed one in the ribs and cut another's arm off. Piles of wight bones and empty armor surrounded me. Going north would be suicide, so I began cutting down wights one after the other. Arrows flew, swords clashed between the armies. Spears splintered, shields rattled.

I had a few wounds but nothing serious so far. At least I was hitting them a lot more than they hit me. My shield was rattled so many times by blows that it began to dent. I also learned that a well placed shield smash in the ribs caused them to fall apart quickly. The guards at the north parted. A wight stood at one end and leisurely walked forward. A spiked crown sat on his skull and a club was his weapon. He was all flesh and blood except his skin was pale and black. It hung off his skelton in places. A Gaunt Lord, a summoner of the dead.

At the front he stopped, surveying the battle. He looked straight at me. "I thought I smelled the living enter here. Have come to sacrifice yourself before me like the others?." I gripped my sword. "A challenge then? That makes it all the more fun for me." Ivar flung himself into battle, his club swinging over my head.

I blocked and parried. Ivar's club smashed into my side and I was flung into a tree. It's roots sprung up and began to curl around me. I hacked and slashed through the roots. Ivar had probably fractured a rib by the pain in my side. I ducked and the club clanged against my shield. I stabbed forward the blade sinking into his gut. I sidestepped his next blow and it landed on my foot. He had faked it. The pain made my eyes water.

You can certainly tell when a wight is happy, because the air darkens from it's malice. With my good foot, I smashed against his chest with my shield with all the strength I could muster. Ivar flailed against my shield but I kept it pressed up against him, blocking every blow that came over or under my shield. He was so focused on getting away from me that I could steer him around. I raised my injured foot, hissing in pain. I pushed him again and he fell into the roots of the tree that had captured me. There was no way Ivar could get out of this with his blunt weapon.

The tree covered him completely and heard a crunching sound. The dead from the north waited and something rose from the red waters. The Red Maid. She was nature corrupted, beauty turned to evil. Her hair was a dull red her eyes, glowing orange orbs. Her skin was grayed, her dress moss, vines and strips of cloth. She smiled and her white teeth were all pointed. "Your intentions are your folly, and so you shall meet doom where you hoped to find victory." She spoke as with the red swamp, it was guttural. Not at all like Goldberry's softness. She pounced and ran into my shield when I raised my shield. I heard her cry of outrage as she scratched it mindlessly.

This was so wrong. At seeing how the darkness had corrupted her, something inside me snapped and I swept my shield upwards. "Clang!" The corrupted River maid hit the dirt unconscious. "Radagast! Whatever you're doing to cure her do it now!" She stirred and I hit her again. "I'm going to have to beg for mercy when she's cured." "Almost there! Goodness sakes!" I heard something splash and something sent me flying.

My head hit something and I couldn't get up. Just roll over like a dog in the mud to see what happened. The Red Maid rose from the waters and this time it was as it should be. She was dressed like Goldberry except in red and silver. Her hair was cleaned, her skin now healthier. Her eyes were normal expect for the strange of color of red in them. She looked around herself in bewilderment as if seeing for the first time, not knowing what to make of her new senses.

Spotting the wights she waved her hand and they fell into ashes. The red mists departed and the corrupt feeling of the swamp faded. The ground and trees changed back to their normal hues. The waters clear. A sigh of clean wind blew through the swamp. The ruins were now just heaps of stone, nothing at all sinister about them. The army of Oathbreakers gathered themselves and Dannasen threw himself on the ground. "Please forgive us my lady. We were blinded by Angmar and the promises it made to us." "I hold none of you to blame, go now to the rest you deserve." Her voice was soft as her sisters. The ghosts faded on the wind.

She turned towards me and I tried to speak. All that came out was a grunt. My toes were on fire, my chest tight. The river maid made a stream of water appear out of the air and it wound around my chest and feet. I could feel the bones begin to mend. "You did well, Danagor. My name is Naruhel." She helped to sit me up. I still felt slightly concussed from hitting my head. She put her hand on the back of my skull and my vision came sharper. She gave me a a vial of water, except it was sparkled with it's own light. "You can only use that only once, Danagor. This is the waters of Cuiviénen, where the elves awoke. The vial will only open when you need it most."

I pocketed it. Radagast came into sight. "Lady Naruhel, you have been cleansed?" Naruhel took a few steps back from me. "I have and you're friend here has defeated Ivar, by pushing him into the roots of an angry Huorn." The tree in question shook it's leaves and branches, and ashes came from the ground to be blown away by the breeze. "Against a courageous heart and trust in one's allies, such power means nothing. Thank you for your help here, friend of the Wise. We have done well this day, Ivar's spreading corruption is stopped." Naruhel turned into water and sank back into the waters.

"The people of the Northdowns will need help, if you are to stop that Dourhand dwarf you mentioned to Gandalf. I must bid you farewell, may your path be true." Radagast disappeared into the swamp, immediately blending in. I walked to the lighted ruins I had seen before and walked up a hill leading to a courtyard filled with people. Their clothes were patched in places and most of them cleared from my path. I began looking for a place to stay. Everything was open to the sky and the tents were taken.

I approached an old, weathered man. "Excuse me, is there some place I can stay for the night?" The old man clearly gave me a look that said "You're not from around here are you?" The man wordlessly pointed towards the east, where a fire was burning. I sat down next to it and gazed into the flames, trying to make sense of all the events of the previous days. It was too much to think about, change had come faster than the coming of autumn. It was all about a ring, so small a thing to cause pain.

I shivered not from the cold but from all that I had seen. I had seen the dead rise from their graves, nature in a state of decay and very much evil. Helping people was always something I did, not complaining about even the most thankless task. Well, I did complain when I was younger and my mother doted on me. Every childish whim was mine and I wandered about where I could. My father figure was the teacher that I met. He quickly taught me right from wrong. He told me that helping others was the fastest way to make friends and some might become true friends. I looked at the sky, the sun setting. The stars were coming out, sparkling like diamonds.

I had been born on a night where Valacirca was the brightest constellation in the sky. My earliest memory was a warm glow full of light. My memories of home made me realize that I had been gone for three days now, much longer than what a simple delivery to Oatbarteon. My mother would be worried. It was my first time traveling alone and all this happened. I fell asleep to dream of home and hearth.


"If darkness surrounds you, look for the light."

"Sarto" means "loyal companion" in Quenya.

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