BETA: Anarithilien- thank you for your immense patience and generosity

Catapult- you might know it as a slingshot in the US

I promise we will get back to Legolas in the next chapter.

Chapter 18: Tyrn Gorthad

In Bree, it was not yet dawn when Sam was already moving about quietly. Frodo stirred and threw back his blankets. Pippin could hear him swing his feet to the floor and shiver a little. Pippin pretended he could not hear them and snuggled deeper into the down quilt, pulled it up around his ears. He had been dreaming deeply and, in his dream, he had been holding the Palantir and he was not afraid for he knew that Sauron was gone and there was no danger. Only now did he realise that he had never stopped wanting to look into it, to feel the smooth perfect glass, the subtle warmth from the stone.

Sam's voice drifted and the door opened and closed, his footsteps receding. Pippin scowled and pulled the quilt higher, trying to hold onto his dream.

Then a hand reached and tugged the quilt. 'Come on slugabed,' Frodo laughed softly. 'We're on an adventure, remember. Mind you, this is more luxurious than we were used to.' He tugged the warm feather quilt again.

Pippin held onto it hard and grunted. "Go away Frodo., I am having a lovely dream and it's far too early for breakfast.'

'We are leaving at dawn to make the most of the daylight. If you want to join us later and are happy to be riding in the twilight on the Barrow Downs, stay there! But if you want any breakfast, you had better come now.'

That made Pippin stir, and he yawned widely and rubbed his eyes.

Sam returned, softly closing the door behind him. He looked at Frodo anxiously. 'Bob is getting the ponies ready. Elrohir is down with them as well, and Nob is getting our breakfast. He says he'll put some supplies together as well. Enough for hobbits, he says.'

Frodo smiled. 'Well that's better than we had last time,' he said cheerfully.

'Don't be too hopeful,' Sam warned darkly. 'I don't think we'll be getting Second Breakfast and Elevenses. I'll be thin as a rake. My Rosie said I was all skin and bone when we came back before.' He blushed suddenly and Frodo burst out laughing.

Slowly, Pippin got out of bed and splashed cold water over his face and armpits. He thought he could get away with just this as he had had a good wash last night before getting into bed and he had only been sleeping. 'I suppose Elrohir and Baranor won't have killed each other,' he asked sleepily. 'They were very angry.'

'Hm.' Frodo stuffed his nightclothes into his bag and looked around the room to make sure he hadn't forgotten anything. He glanced around the room checking if he had left anything behind. 'Pip, your pipe,' he said, gesturing to where Pippin had laid his pipe and then forgotten about it.

'Oh, thank you Frodo.' Pippin tucked his pipe away in his vest pocket. 'I wonder what it is that Baranor has and that Elrohir thought he had taken?' he said, a little more wakeful now as he pulled on his brown jacket and checked in his pockets for pipe, pipeweed, compass, pocket knife and catapult. 'They have not said.'

'No, and likely never will. Best we don't know I think.' Sam cast a look towards him.

Frodo was tying his neckerchief on and looking in the mirror as he did. 'I don't know, Sam. It might be important.'

Pippin looking over his shoulder saw the dark circles around Frodo's eyes that had nothing to do with a wakeful night, but nevertheless, his eyes were brighter and his face animated. And with that, Pippin thought to himself, we must be content for now.

'I do not think that Elrohir would fall out with anyone over a trinket,' Frodo said carefully. 'He strikes me as a very serious person.'

'Which is strange because Legolas is nothing like that,' Pippin observed. Combing his unruly curls and flattening the front with water in an attempt to get them to lie flat, he wondered if Elrohir minded living in a tree; he could not imagine the serious warrior that was Elrohir leaping into a tree and swinging on branches like Legolas did.

When they got to the parlour, all the important things, like platters of bacon, sausages and bowls of fried potatoes, tomatoes and mushrooms, were laid out, Pippin noticed with relief. Dods and Iberic were piling their plates very high and Pippin added a few extra sausages and bacon and potatoes and mushrooms and tomatoes to his plate to make sure he had enough and they didn't run out. Merry was spreading butter on his third piece of toast when Baranor suddenly entered the room.

'Well my friends, time to leave,' he declared, glancing out of the window. 'It is already later than his lordship Elrohir Elrondion would allow but even he seems to understand that Hobbits must eat.' He smiled widely and Pippin ate fast as he continued, 'We will want to reach the Great Barrows by noon and then can be back near enough the Road by dusk to be away from any wayward Barrow Wights.'

He seemed very cheerful, thought Pippin, glancing at the other Hobbits. Merry looked at him in equal concern at how short breakfast seemed to be and no time for a pipe, but they both had too much food in their mouths to speak or protest and Frodo was already standing up and Sam and Dods pushed their chairs back and rose, uncomplaining. Iberic was already helping Frodo to shrug into his coat, and Sam and Dods grabbed pipes and walking sticks and hats.

Fortunately both Merry and Pippin were used to Aragorn's complete disregard for the importance of breakfast, and so they did not hesitate to stuff hastily made bacon sandwiches into napkins and grab a couple of apples, as they hurried out of the door. Just as they were at the door, they looked at each other and darted back into the parlour.

'Extra bacon sandwich, Merry?' Pippin asked, casually grabbing a couple of slices of bread and slapping the last of the bacon between them.

'Don't mind if I do,' Merry replied, 'Sausage?'

0o0o

Elrohir was waiting restlessly in the stable yard when they arrived. In the cold early morning, the ponies' breath frosted, and Pippin thought his pony, Flash, looked as disgruntled as he felt. He gave the pony a bit of one of the apples which he crunched a little more cheerfully. The Buckland ponies were bright eyed and interested, all dun coloured, their coats varied from flaxen to almost grey, but all had the distinctive black manes and tails of the region. Elrohir nodded to the hobbits but did not speak, merely gracefully swung astride his impossibly tall black horse and led the way out of the yard. Softly bidding Nob and Bob farewell, the hobbits mounted their various ponies and clattered off along the frosted cobblestones cheerfully, Flash trailing behind resentfully. Baranor rode at the rear.

Ahead of him a pale crack in the sky showed that dawn was breaking in the East. A bird sang one note then a little rill before falling silent, as if it was not quite sure if it was daybreak or not. Pippin shivered and pulled his cloak around his shoulders, but Merry grinned cheerily and Pippin at last felt a bubble of excitement in his belly.

The early morning meant the Road was empty and only a sleepy watchman bent his head to Elrohir as he passed and muttered,' Good day to ye, gentlemen.'

'And good day to you too,' Elrohir said courteously and though he had been courteous to Elrohir, the watchman glowered at the Hobbits as they passed, as if hobbits had no business being out of doors so early.

It was no distance at all to the Crossroads where the Greenway met the Great East Road. Pippin looked along the Road that wound towards The Last Homely House, Rivendell in one direction. The other travelled through The Shire and far away to the Tower Hills, where he had never been. Ahead of him, of course, was the Greenway that led between the South Downs and the Barrow Downs, to ruined Tharbad, and then eventually, to Gondor. Pippin twisted round in the saddle to look back towards Bree. 'Where does the Road go after Bree?' he asked suddenly without thinking.

'Fornost Erain,' said Baranor, who rode behind him. 'It was once the capital city of Arthedain, one of the three kingdoms of Arnor. It is about a hundred miles that way.' He pointed away into the far distance, but Bree Hill and Archet obscured anything they might have seen.

'Arthedain? Wasn't that the name of the king who didn't keep his promise?' Pippin asked, remembering vaguely what Baranor had said the previous evening in the parlour.

'Not quite,' Baranor smiled. Pippin thought he had a kind face. His handsomeness was not intimidating like Elrohir's, but instead warm, and Pippin felt he could talk easily to the Ranger. 'The King of Arthedain who made the promise to my people of Cardolan was called Arveleg.'

' 'Alf-a-leg?' Pippin frowned.

'Arveleg,' Baranor repeated laughing. 'Though you are not the first to have called him that and the name he had in Cardolan after he broke his promise was worse than that by far.'

'What was it he promised?' Pippin asked. 'We were wondering if it was the hand of his son or daughter. It's usually something like that.' Flash pulled at the reins and snatched at the long grass, but Pippin clicked his tongue and the pony ambled on.

'Nothing like that,' Baranor said, and his voice dropped. He looked suddenly very serious. 'There were the Palantíri, seeing stones. Do you know what those are?'

Pippin felt suddenly hot and felt his face flush with shame. 'Yes, I know what they are,' he admitted, for he remembered his dream again of the Palantír when he awoke, its smooth obsidian, the lights in the depths of the stone.

'There were three Palantíri in Arnor; one in the Tower Hills, and two were the heritage of Elendil, held by the King of Arnor. When the last King died and his sons could not agree on who should rule whom, they split the realm into three; Arthedain, Rhudaur and Cardolan. But Arthedain kept all the Palantíri. One was kept in Amon Sul.' He glanced at Pippin. 'Weathertop,' he explained.

Pippin nodded wisely. 'That probably was not a very good idea. Why didn't they have one each?'

Baranor smiled. 'I suppose the Tower Stone was not useful for it only looks West across the Sea.' He paused and added with a smile, 'So it is said for I have never looked.'

'So Arthedain had two useful stones and the others had none. Was that what the King promised Cardolan? A Palantir' Pippin asked, the significance of it dawning upon him then for he knew the magnetic draw of the Palantir. 'And he never gave it to them?'

'It was,' agreed Baranor, nodding. 'At least, that is what is told amongst my family. Although the stories say that the Amon Sul stone was taken to Fornost and then when the Witchking took Fornost too, the last king fled with both Palantíri, and they were lost in the Ice Bay of Forochel when he drowned.'

Pippin hummed. 'So they are both gone anyway.'

'So it seems,' Baranor said softly.

0o0o

The Greenway stretched ahead of them along a fairly wide valley between the South Downs and the Barrow Downs, that had once been called Tyrn Gorthad, Baranor told them. Once there had been watchtowers all along the Greenway, he said, pointing one out, but Pippin had to try hard to see the crumbled and ruined walls as anything more than that. The stones used to repair the Road in more peaceful times, Baranor said wryly, indicating the badly maintained road that was deeply rutted in places where heavy wagons had ploughed through the mud. On the South Downs they saw small flocks of sheep now and again, especially where they were still close enough to Bree to be safe, and Baranor told them how a few farmers had begun to set up farmsteads since the end of the War. The Men of Cardolan must have been shepherds as well as warriors, Pippin realised for these lands were ideal for sheep grazing.

To the right however, the Barrow Downs, nothing had changed over a thousand years and more. Empty and silent, the hills rose up and then there were hills beyond that. Pippin remembered what Tom Bombadil had told them of bubbling waterfalls and pebbles and worn rocks, and the small flowers in close grass in the damp hollows near the springs that leapt up on the chalk downs. But Tom had also spoken of the Great Barrows, the green mounds and the stone rings upon hills and in the hollows among the hills. As they rode onwards, Pippin saw the green walls and white walls that Tom had also spoken of, for the green walls were the hills upon which the ancient Men of Cardolan had built the white chalk walls of their fortresses, and even ruined and crumbled, Pippin could imagine how they must have gleamed in the sunlight. These were the fortresses on the heights.

But they were gone, long ago and there were left only the barrows of long- forgotten kings and lords, and the tall grey stones, leaning in as if they listened to a song no one else heard.

'We will be making for that line of beech trees,' Baranor said, pointing ahead and upwards. 'I just have to leave a sign for Aragorn should he pass. He will know to look here.' He took out a sort of knife and scratched a sign on a flat stone which he then placed carefully at the side of the road. 'These lines represent you hobbits,' explained Baranor, seeing Pippin's curiosity. 'And this represents Elrohir and this, me. Aragorn will know who is here and where we have gone. The circle tells him we are going to the barrows.'

'Make sure to tell him that we have Merry with us,' Pippin said as Baranor swung astride his horse and gathered up the reins.

'Of course. Come now Master Pippin, we will be left behind.'

Elrohir had already left the road and had cantered easily up the steep hillside and past the copse towards the ridge, and Frodo was leading the hobbits slowly up the hillside.

'I think we can rest for a while,' Baranor told them when they reached the trees. He frowned. 'Elrohir has gone ahead to scout. He said you would need your Second Breakfast about now, although I do not know what that is.'

There was a cheerful laugh from the hobbits and general approval of Elrohir for knowing about Second Breakfast while Frodo cheerfully enlightened Baranor and Sam and Dods unpacked some of the plentiful provisions that Nob had so carefully packed for them.

'That seems a very civilised custom,' Baranor said, smiling. It was a merry picnic and Pippin quite forgot why they were there and Frodo and Merry's told the others about Aragorn's lack of understanding about hobbits when they first met.

There was a small stream running through the copse, as Baranor had said, and the ponies stood drinking long and deep, raising their heads now and again to look about and then dropping their heads again. Baranor had stretched out his long legs and leaned back on one elbow, shifting a baldric that was slung over his shoulder and Pippin saw a horn was hung there. It was perhaps not as fine as Boromir's, but nevertheless, it was chased with ancient signs and tipped with silver, much as Boromir's had been.

'That's an interesting horn,' he said. 'I knew a Man who had one like it once.'

Merry give Pippin a quick look but said nothing and Baranor glanced down at it and then back at Pippin. 'It has been passed down from my mother's family, mother to daughter. Except she had only sons and so it came to me as the oldest. But I will give it to my daughter if I ever have one so that the tradition is maintained.' He smiled. 'My father told me I should not wear it for it is very ancient. But it gives me comfort that something remains.'

Suddenly Baranor stiffened and looked up, his hand on his sword and ready to leap to his feet, but it was Elrohir returning. He slid down from his horse and let it wander over to the stream to drink while he sat on a flat rock near them, but he seemed restless and anxious.

'I have scouted over that ridge where there are the first barrows,' he told them. 'You can just see the standing stone that leads to them.' He pointed upwards and the hobbits followed his gaze to see upon the ridge above them, there were some ancient beech trees in a line, growing at an angle where they had been blasted by the wind for countless years. And then beyond that, where the beeches ended and there was only grass, they saw the first stone.

It stood on its own, very tall and isolated. Like an accusing finger, it pointed at the sky, and Pippin felt a shiver down his back.

'They are small barrows, not the Great Barrows on the high ridges and hills, though they are perhaps some of the oldest.' Elrohir drank thirstily from his water bottle, emptying it. He wiped his mouth and then said, 'I have also seen signs of horses. Perhaps the same sort of height as Barakhir.' He nodded towards his own horse that now stood hock-deep in the stream and drinking. 'These must be from the riders in black that your cousin saw, for there are no other tracks.'

There was silence then, and the hobbits glanced at each other quickly. Suddenly all the cheer and laughter of a few moments ago vanished and Pippin remembered why they were there; he had been enjoying the ride with his friends, out in the sunshine, with a sense of adventure. He had almost forgotten they were investigating the bonfires, and why the Barrow Wights were abroad and stalking them. What did the Barrow Wights want with Merry, and Sam? His throat suddenly felt dry, and he swallowed. He looked at Frodo and saw how pale he was and knew he was not the only one to have been thinking the same.

'Are you still certain you wish to do this?' Baranor asked kindly. 'Elrohir and I can do this for you, and report back,' he said.

Sam said anxiously, 'Baranor is right, Frodo. Some of us can go and look and some stay here. Perhaps that would be wiser anyway, just in case something happens.'

'Actually,' Frodo said, turning to Sam, 'I was rather thinking that you and Merry should stay. It was the two of you who were attacked.' He smiled fondly at Sam. 'I know you wish to spare me, but I have felt more alive, stronger since Pippin and I left Hobbiton than I have since we returned from the War. I think adventures are good for me.'

'There speaks a Took!' Pippin cried but surprisingly it was Dods who turned to the rest of the party.

'I have not had the adventures you have had,' he said. 'And I confess I feel a little afraid of these riders, and the Barrow Wights of course.' Then he grinned. 'But I could not bear to go back to Bree and have to tell Auntie Pervinka that I chickened out at the last minute, especially in such company.' There were other cheers then and 'hear, hears' from the other hobbits, and Dods turned to Baranor and said, 'And if you are the descendant of the Dunédain of Cardolan, surely the Barrow Wights will not harm you if you are of their people?''

Pippin, who was sitting opposite Elrohir, saw that the Elf suddenly froze and stared at Baranor. A look of understanding slowly seemed to register on Elrohir's face as if something had suddenly been resolved.

Meanwhile, Baranor had thrown up his hand up as if to ward off evil words, and he said very seriously, 'The Barrow Wights are not my ancestors. They are the evil spirits that Angmar conjured to haunt the barrows of my ancestors. It is said that they can make the bones of those buried there move, but I have never heard of it happening or seen it. It was not what happened to you,' he said looking at Frodo.

'No, we certainly didn't see any bones moving!' Sam exclaimed, as if shocked at the impropriety. 'Just the Wight's arm over us with a knife in its hand. And that was more than enough.' He shuddered. 'I don't like the sound of bones creeping about and no mistake.'

Elrohir leaned forwards, his face very sombre and Pippin thought he might speak of whatever it was that had troubled him. He said, 'We are going into a place of shadow. And I know that you, Frodo and Sam, have faced great danger, more than I have in truth,' he said, looking at the two hobbits with immense respect. 'But do not underestimate the Umaiar, as the Elves call them. You escaped them before with the help of Iarwain-Ben-Adar, whom you call Tom Bombadil. But he is on the other side of the Downs, by the Withywindel and we do not know if he would hear you if you called. As Baranor says, the Umaiar are no simple goblins or orcs. I will remind you what I told you last night when I agreed to come with you,' he said emphatically. 'They are demons that haunt the dark places of the earth, hiding from the light, formed of a darkness that can enter the eye, heart and mind, crushing the will. They cannot be destroyed except by powerful spells beyond any Man.' He looked each one of them in the eye and each of them found himself weighing his own courage in the balance.

'We cannot engage them or fight them,' Elrohir continued. 'That is not why we are here. For we cannot destroy them. We are just seeking answers as to what the bonfires are on the hills, and why the Umaiar are hunting you.'

0o0o

After that, the ride was much more subdued. Pippin could not stop thinking about what Elrohir had said; demons that haunt the dark places of the earth, hiding from the light, formed of a darkness that can enter the eye, heart and mind, crushing the will. In some ways, they sounded worse than the Nazgul and he had thought nothing more terrifying than that. But the Nazgul's greatest weapon was fear. The Barrow Wights seemed able to enter someone and to possess them. He had to admit he was beginning to doubt the wisdom of coming.

Beyond the line of the old defensive wall that Baranor told them marked the boundary of the Tyrn Gorthad itself, the early wildflowers scattered thinly through the long grass that brushed against the ponies' hocks. A few early skylarks sang, their song lifting over the downs. One or two little white butterflies and yellow brimstones fluttered over the long grass and a red admiral floated past, its scarlet bars a bright flash of colour. Even though it was still early in the Spring and the admiral unusual, no one called out or drew anyone's attention to it. All were deep in thought and a dread began to grow amongst them.

They had ridden for many miles, going up and up and then down only to go uphill again so it seemed to Pippin that they were climbing out of The Shire and Bree and anywhere he had ever known, and into some strange land above the clouds. He knew he was just being fanciful, but it was so quiet and empty. Wherever there was water, they stopped to let the ponies drink and let them rest.

Elrohir led them up a steeply sloping hill towards a tall grey standing stone, and slowly a quiet settled around the group and they stopped talking. Far away and below them, Pippin caught glimpse of the road, winding away southwards and then disappearing, sometimes behind the rolling hills, and now into a long wooded valley. Even further away, the South Downs rolled away in the hazy warmth, and Iberic, who had exceptional long-sight even for a Hobbit, pointed out to Merry and Pippin a small flock of sheep grazing along the hilltop and nearer Bree, cattle wandered through the long grass. There were one or two farmsteads on the edges of the South Downs, near the East Road.

'There is Weathertop,' said Merry quietly but only to Pippin and Iberic. They could see the high hill far away in the distance. Pippin said nothing but glanced towards Frodo, who was hunched over his saddle now as if he felt the morgûl blade plunge into his shoulder anew. Beside him rode Sam, watching him solicitously but not fussing. Just careful. Dods rode last, his dun pony carefully picking her way through the long grass.

At last they reached the standing stone. There was no grass at its base, as if nothing could grow there and the sun had climbed to its zenith so there was only a slight shadow pointing along the ridge, and so now they rode along the ridge top, westward. Elrohir allowed them to rest but he did not seem able to do so himself, for he paced and looked ever higher towards the Great Barrows, as he said. At last, he said he would scout ahead but return for them soon and flung himself astride Barakhir and charged off along the ridge as if the Barrow Wights were already in pursuit. Watching him, Pippin could see that the hills ahead were higher again. Some hill tops had beech trees shrouding their sides, although stunted and short, and some had low green mounds and standing stones upon them.

They had come to the barrows of Tyrn Gorthad.

0o0o

Elrohir returned soon and bid them follow him quickly. About a quarter of a mile due West, they came to a sloping mound. Before it were set two very tall sentry stones and through these Pippin saw the entrance to a barrow that gaped open like a mouth. Before it, was a circle of blackened grass and charred branches like old bones, they were covered in white ash. All around the bonfire were hoof prints as if many horses had circled wildly about the fire. The air crackled like lightning had passed by and it smelt of Orthanc fire.

Pippin exchanged an anxious look with Merry. 'What are they doing, these riders?' Merry whispered. 'Are they freeing the Barrow Wights and gathering them together? Are they gathering an army?'

'I don't like the sound of that at all,' said Pippin.

They passed three more barrows that lay in a direct line towards the West. Each one had the same blackened grass and charred branches of a bonfire and there were signs of many hoofprints.

Elrohir pulled up and was waiting for them in a shallow hollow where yet another barrow had been burned. He leaned on the pommel of his saddle and looked at the Hobbits seriously. 'I do not see that there is any reason for going on,' he said at last. 'This is systematic. Someone is clearing the barrows and certainly the Úmaiar are set free. I do not think we need go any further into the Great Barrows for every step closer to the source of the Úmaiar's power is more dangerous.' He glanced at Frodo as he spoke. 'Baranor and I will not be sufficient to keep us all from harm.'

'But we do not know why they were pursuing us,' Merry protested and his voice was joined by others. 'Why Sam and me?'

Elrohir held up his hand again. 'Remember what I said. Our task was to see if there is a problem. There is. Your task now is to enlist the help of such folk as Glorfindel and Erestor.' He paused and glanced over to Baranor as if seeking support, but the Man said nothing and merely sat astride his horse with his hands folded over the pommel. 'If they were seeking you before, and you walk into their centre of power, what do you think will happen?'

He left that question hanging in the air and no one could give him an answer.

At last, Frodo turned to his companions. 'I do think we must hearken to Elrohir in this,' he said but his voice was heavy with disappointment. 'I remember all too well being captured by the Barrow Wight, and that was a lesser demon, hardly worthy of the title. Elrohir is right. We cannot assume that Tom will know we are here. And if Elrohir says that he cannot destroy them, then none of us here can, and at some point we will meet them. Let us return, while we can.'

'I will come with you as far as the boundary of the Tyrn Gorthad,' Elrohir said. 'And then there is something else I must do.'

There was a cry of dismay from the Hobbits, but Elrohir would not be swayed. 'Baranor will go with you and guide you,' he said. 'But I cannot return with you.'

'So, you will have the glory then,' Baranor said with a bitter smile.

'That is not it,' Elrohir said earnestly. 'I swear to you.' He pressed his lips together and a flicker of something, regret perhaps, crossed his face. 'I do not break my word. I swear to you now that your part in this will be made known. All the glory is yours; it matters not to me.'

Baranor gave a snort that suggested he either didn't care or didn't believe Elrohir. But Sam spoke up then.

'Whatever the argument is between you two, leave it behind now.' Sam spoke like he was telling off two tweenagers. 'We've got Frodo here, and he needs looking after whatever you two have going on.' Sam ignored Frodo's protest and continued, 'Master Baranor, my friends, Strider and Legolas, speak very well of Elrohir. And my friends in Rivendell said that he never leaves anyone behind, and he would never break his word once given. So I ask that you be content with that for Frodo's sake, if nothing else.' He folded his hands on the pommel of his saddle and nodded firmly, once at Elrohir and once at Baranor.

The Hero of the War of the Ring had spoken, it seemed, for Baranor bowed to Sam. 'My lord, if you deem that this is so, I am satisfied.' But he glared at Elrohir with real dislike. 'I trust you to hold HIM,' indicating Elrohir, 'to his word if not.'

'I pledge my word,' Elrohir said without rancour. He lay his hand over his heart and bowed to Sam also, and Pippin caught a proud smile on Frodo's lips. Pippin's heart was full when they turned back and if any of the small company were left unsatisfied at coming so close to the Great Barrows upon the Tyrn Gorthad, no one said it. They turned their ponies' heads for home with a mix of feelings, relief that they had come so far perhaps without mishap, dissatisfaction that they had not reached the conclusion or had discovered what the bonfires were or why the Wights had pursued them.

But, Pippin thought, we are not home yet.

0o0o

Pippin's eyes were fixed upon Flash's ears, pricked alert and eager, and they were riding through a shallow valley that wound between two ridges; on the left side, the slope was very steep and at the top was a ruined hill fort with crumbled white chalk walls, and Pippin thought that the valley could, in fact, be a defensive ditch to the hillfort. He did not remember coming this way, but they were travelling in the direction of Bree, he thought.

Elrohir was still restless, perhaps even more so now that their heads were turned for home, and now he abruptly urged Barakhir up the slopes opposite the hillfort. The black horse surged up over the ridge to the top of the hill and Elrohir disappeared from view.

Pippin was a little way in front of the rest of the party because Flash jogged along, snatching at grass now and again but staying ahead. The ditch-valley curved around the hillfort first towards Bree, but now away. And then it widened out and was clearly no longer a ditch but definitely a shallow valley. Very shallow and hardly a valley. On the right, the way seemed to turn back and wind their way up towards the hillfort, and the other way seemed to slowly contour to the leftwards and upwards around the other hill.

There was no point at all in going to the hillfort, thought Pippin and so he followed the contour, away from the hillfort. It seemed to be sloping upwards now and Pippin wondered about that, for really they wanted to be heading downhill. But the Downs rolled and undulated, and he knew they would have to go up and down a bit before coming to the Greenway. He would be pleased to be out of the valley and on the tops, he thought, where he could see where they were.

Quite suddenly it opened up and he was on a long flat hilltop with the hillfort behind him on his left. A little way ahead of him was an avenue of tall stones, some were leaning inwards, and some had toppled over. Flash halted abruptly. It was absolutely silent; there was no wind hissing through the long grass, nor the voices of his companions.

A cold drift of air stroked the back of his neck and he felt like he was being watched. He turned suddenly, looking back over his left shoulder. A darkness smudged the air above the ditch but as soon as he looked, it disappeared, and he felt a horrible sensation of grim cold. Elrohir's words came back to him: demons that haunt the dark places of the earth, hiding from the light, formed of a darkness that can enter the eye, heart and mind, crushing the will.

Suddenly, something large leapt out of the grass and fluttered up in Flash's face. Pippin pulled back, shocked and the pony half reared, and bolted forwards. Pippin clung to the pony's mane, but Flash was terrified and veered suddenly to the left and Pippin hit the ground hard, small pebbles grinding under his cheek as he slid along the ground. His heart was pounding violently in his chest, not only from the flight but fear and he scrambled about to face whatever had attacked them.

A grey partridge was flying away, churring loudly and indignantly.

It was such an intense relief that Pippin collapsed back into the cradle of the grass, laughing. Silence crept back as he lay there, catching his breath. He felt cocooned in the hollow of the land and cupped in the bowl of sky.

The tall stones loomed over him, and he was suddenly aware again of the silence. He could not hear Baranor or Frodo or anyone.

And then, the thud of a horse's hooves sounded behind him. He sat up, expecting Flash to come sheepishly towards him, but it was not Flash.

Scrambling to his feet, Pippin drew his sword, heart thumping in his chest, for a tall black horse and rider came down the ridge towards him, the wind blowing the horse's tail and rider's hair. A sword gleamed in the rider's hand.

'Master Peregrine!'

Pippin almost laughed aloud, for of course it was Elrohir. He had lost his own good sense in his fear.

'Did you fall?' asked Elrohir as he stopped beside Pippin. 'Where is your pony? He will not have gone far.'

Pippin stared up at the Elf; his face was noble and handsome, a distilled masculine beauty. But it was his grey eyes that drew Pippin's attention. Mercurial and dark, they seemed lit by something within, not like Glorfindel's who had gazed upon the Trees it was said, but some power that was intrinsically Elrohir.

He was looking kindly down at Pippin and now he leaned down and stretched a hand down to the hobbit. 'Come Master Pippin, you will ride behind me while we fetch your errant steed.' His lips curved into a smile and the impossibly tall horse stood very still while Elrohir pulled Pippin up and astride the huge beast with ease. Pippin clung to Elrohir's lean waist and looked down. He was a very long way up and swayed a little, but Elrohir reached behind and just caught Pippin's hand and pulled him carefully against him. His body was hard and muscular, and Pippin thought he felt a crimson warmth spread through him, giving him strength and comfort.

Barakhir moved off and Pippin lurched forwards at first, but the horse moved so smoothly, that Pippin soon became more confident. He twisted in the saddle to look around him for Flash and his thigh brushed against the saddlebags slung over Barakhir's rump.

Sparks seemed to go off in Pippin's brain and he looked down. His hand rested on the bulge of the saddlebag, and he felt a throb under his fingers; a beguiling whisper compelling him to slip his hand between the flaps of the bag. His fingertips met smooth glass and he felt an instant relief as if he had found something he had been searching for a long while; he pressed slightly and he felt the strange electric thrill tingle through him. He closed his eyes and saw the dark sphere in his mind, those depths.

The Palantír.

At last.

Closing his eyes, he let his fingers stroke the glass, feeling the slight sink as if into flesh and he caressed its smooth, cool surface. But he knew he had never touched this Stone before. This was not the Orthanc Stone. But it didn't matter; it was like rain after years of drought when the earth is nothing but dust and nothing green grows. He could not help but let his fingers caress its surface, the cool glass. He did not question that Elrohir had it, or why. He didn't care.

And it seemed he did not need to look into it to 'see'. As if by merely touching the stone, Pippin felt it swirl and open beneath him and as if he gazed directly into it, he could see the dark, limned with crimson.

For a moment, nothing happened.

And then, light flickered in the stone, and it was as if he was staring into its obsidian depths.

Grey crept around the edges of the Stone, encircling it. Like mist. And then there was cold. Like he held ice but could not tear his fingers away and his mouth opened to cry a warning to Elrohir, but he was struck mute.

In the mist, there was something coming. Or they were going towards it. Something very cold.

Through the grey mist, he saw riders on tall horses, and the fog curled around them like an embrace. There was a gleam of steel from the weapons in their hands and behind them flames leapt up, bonfires that roared furiously, devouring. Black cinders floated into the air like crows on the wind. The riders' swords too, were tongues of flame.

This image melted away now and Pippin saw that the earth bubbled into small mounds, and bony fingers scrabbled and broke out the mounds, demonic shapes crawling out of the mounds, bones, skulls grinning, rusty blades in skeletal bony hands. He saw Frodo and Sam trapped, he thought in horror. Frodo wielded Sting and Sam stood beside him with his own sword drawn that was taken from the barrow hoard. Skeletons crawled from the earth, their limbs jerked and stilted. Merry and Dods were there too but Iberic was on the ground. Amidst the clash of steel and the cries of his friends, Dods fell before a skeleton and Merry stood over him trying to keep the skeletons from reaching him, their horrid grinning teeth bared.

The wind was thin and high in the air, a whine and moan that coalesced into formless words, grim, cold, hard, a curse against the light, a bitter hatred of the warmth of blood and flesh. Behind the skeletons, the mist drew close and from it emerged tall grey shapes, like the standing stones themselves. There were no faces only gaping mouths that hungered endlessly for life, for light, for spirit.

Suddenly Pippin knew their names; Devourers.

No. Not simple ghosts. Not some sad spirit that haunted the barrows. These had devoured the souls of the Men buried there, would rattle and animate their bones.

Pippin gasped and swayed in the saddle and would have fallen had not Elrohir's strong hand caught him and held him.

'Pippin?' He twisted in the saddle to look down on Pippin. 'Do you sicken? Are you injured?'

Pippin felt heat creeping up his shoulders and neck and face. "No, I…my hand slipped…I wanted to touch it…' he stammered incoherently. He stared up at Elrohir. 'Why do you have it?'

'What did you do?' Elrohir's voice sounded low and dangerous. His mercurial eyes bored into Pippin, stripped him bare, forcing a confession.

'I didn't know,' Pippin said guiltily. 'My hand brushed the saddlebag and I… remembered when I looked into the Orthanc stone, I wanted to see it again and I just slipped my hand inside the bag and…and I..well...'

Elrohir turned back and faced forward. He was silent for a moment and then, over his shoulder, he said, 'You must not speak of the Palantír to anyone else. Do you swear?'

Pippin swallowed. 'I swear.'

'This is not the Orthanc stone,' he said. 'We found it, Baranor found it,' he amended. 'Beneath Amon Sûl. It has long been lost and Aragorn must have it so he can restore the Kingdom of Arnor.'

Pippin nodded. Of course. That was what Baranor had told him; that Arveleg had promised it to Cardolan and the promise had been broken. Aragorn would keep that promise, although Pippin did not know how, he had faith that Aragorn knew what to do. A thought occurred to him. 'Are the Barrow Wights looking for it?'

Elrohir shook his head. 'I do not know. Why would they? From what you say, Merry had already been taken before we found the Stone.' He thought for a while and so did Pippin; if this is not what the Barrow Wights want, why are they searching for the members of the Fellowship?

'Did you see anything?' Elrohir asked suddenly.

Pippin closed his eyes. 'I…I saw a battle. There were skeletons and they moved, fought.' He shuddered in horror. And then Pippin realised; he had seen Frodo, Sam and Merry. He had seen Dods and Iberic fall. 'I was not there,' he whispered in sudden recognition. 'Nor were you. Where are they?' He was suddenly afraid, not for himself but his friends.

'Was Legolas there?' asked Elrohir quietly, urgently and Pippin was startled out of his concern for one group of friends for another.

'No. I did not see him. Why?'

'A shadow and a threat has been growing in my mind since I stepped onto the soil of Cardolan. He is in danger I am sure of it, but I do not know what and I do not know where he is.' Elrohir shook his head in frustration. 'I have been searching for signs of him, a sense of him but I can find nothing, just a feeling that something is very, very wrong.'

At that moment there was a quiet wicker and they saw that they had found Flash, his nose buried in the long pale grass and munching happily. He looked up briefly, a look of contentment on his furry face, and then he dropped his nose back down.

'I think we should get back to Frodo,' Pippin said anxiously, looking down from where he sat behind Elrohir for it was still a long way up for a hobbit.

Elrohir reached around and held out his hand to let Pippin slide down from the tall horse and to regain his pony. Pippin caught the reins that had been flapping around Flash's neck and led him back towards Elrohir. He looked up at the Elf. 'If Frodo is under threat, we need to warn them, don't we, and be with them and …well, we need to look for Legolas too. But if he is in danger, then so are Aragorn and Gimli.'

'Indeed.' Elrohir was silent then and looked towards the avenue of tall stones that seemed suddenly ominous.

It was only then that Pippin saw that a mist had been drifting towards them and now the hillfort was hidden. The mist began to trail down the slope from the hillfort towards them, pale fingers drifting over the grass as if seeking them. In one place it seemed darker, moving carefully, slowly.

Regular thuds sounded. Hoofbeats.

'Perhaps that's Baranor?' Pippin said hopefully, but his heart was pounding in his chest.

But Elrohir did not speak for he was listening. 'Two horses,' he said at last. 'No ponies.'

Pippin could hear them now. Slow hoofbeats coming through the fog, heavy as his own heartbeat.

'Mount your horse, Master Took,' said Elrohir with urgency in his voice. 'And draw your sword.'

A dark shape emerged inexorably, shrouded in fog. A rider whose outline was misshapen, tall but hunch-backed, there was a glimmer of steel from a long sword in one hand and an axe in the other. Behind the first rider, another emerged, mist swirling around it, trailing ahead of them down the sloping hillside towards Pippin and Elrohir.

Pippin shoved his foot in the stirrup, thinking of the Nazgul, and his heart hammered, blood rushed through his veins, and he felt suddenly light-headed. He swung up into the saddle, dropping the reins in his panic and unable to find the other stirrup with his foot.

'I do not think we can outpace them in this fog,' Elrohir murmured over his shoulder to Pippin. 'I will hold them off, distract them. Go and find Frodo. Back that way. Keep the hillfort to your left.'

Pippin nodded, his foot fumbling for the other stirrup and the reins were slippery with the damp mist that curled about them now. Almost lazily, Elrohir swiped the air with his sword and the riders slowly came towards them, and blocked the way back.

'Draw your sword, Master Took,' Elrohir told him. 'If you see a chance to run, then do.' He drew his sword and Pippin drew his own short sword taken from the barrow hoard. A dim light that was not from the sun glittered along its edge and Pippin thought he heard a low moan coming from deep within the mist.

0o0o0o