Arda, Middle-Earth, Dunland, East of the River Glanduin; T.A. 2990

Dunland – as it is known to the Horse lords – was a cold and desolate wasteland. Few could thrive on the barren foothills that made up the home of the 'Dunlanders', and life was not easy for those that did not wither under the harsh and biting winds of this 'Dunland'. None were aware of this more so than the sheep herders of the northernmost tip of this hard, wild land.

It had been a long winter, longer than most, and the usual grazing grounds had all but withered away under the frost. They'd been making their way slowly along the west side of the Great River, being careful not to let the smaller members of the tribe fall over the side, lest they be swept away over the cliff to the lowlands below. They had been travelling for the better part of a month with no end in sight, and some of their older members were beginning to tire and stumble. They'd have to find somewhere safe to rest for the night, for they could not remain in the open… not after dark.

They had sent scouts ahead for just such a purpose, but that had been a good hour ago and there was still no sign of their return. The Elder of the Tribe had made his decision, they couldn't linger in this place anymore, they would have to leave the two scouts behind to fend for themselves. There were many who would have trouble defending themselves here in full light, it would be akin to a slaughter in anything less.

'We move on! Up now! We stop for no one until we're under cover!' He yelled, aware that he and many like him may fall on the tribe's forced march. Yet it couldn't be helped, the concern must be on the young, for they were the future, and their land was not kind to those who forgot that.

'Wait! Stop! Stop!'

Packs were dropped in shock and a young ewe skittered away from her master, plunged into the river and was swept away over the falls before anyone could so much as scream. A girl was barrelling out of the sparse trees surrounding the temporary camp, it was one of the scouts that had been sent on ahead, she was panting, a mad look in her eyes… and she was covered in blood.

One hour ago

'Now listen closely since time is short, and darkness grows with each second we waste.'

The old man said, ironically slowly, to the two scouts.

'It doesn't have to be big, even the hollow of a rock will do if you can find nothing else, but it must hide us from view once night falls.'

Mab and her brother nodded, it wasn't like this was something new to them – sheep needed grazing and lately you practically had to take the whole tribe and armoury with you if you wanted them back safely. Caves and sheltered glades had been easy to find even for the unskilled eye so far but, their land was not a kind lady and good luck always had to end sometime.

They left camp in good time, carrying little more than a water skin and a hunting knife between the two of them, since they didn't expect to be away long. This part of the land had no end to small rocky crevices and caves that could be huddled in when the need arose. That is if you knew where to look, which Mab's brother was confident he did.

As they moved further into the strange tightly packed wood though, Mab grew less confident.

'Llue.' She hissed some part of her telling her that she should keep her voice down, if she dared to speak at all in a place like this. Ahead of her Llue crouched on a large over-hanging rock, he didn't seem to have heard her at first, but then his ear twitched in an unsettling way, and he snapped his head back to glare.

'What?'

His voice was equally low and if Mab had not drawn closer, she wouldn't have heard him at all.

'There's something wrong with these woods, why are there so many trees this far north? They don't even look like hardy stock, they're thin things that should have been ripped from the ground the first storm that hit 'em. Yet here they stand packed like a wall around us, and there's something else, I can't explain it, but it doesn't feel natural.'

As she spoke Mab tried to get closer to her brother, who seemed to be ignoring her entirely. She scrambled up the rock face, which proved to be as smooth and slippery as ice, but he leaped from his perch just before she could reach him. Mab had to suppress a snarl or worse yet a scream, the feeling of wrongness was still around her and she had half a mind to turn back now and leave the stupid fool to his fate. But she'd been given a duty and she was going to do it, whether her brother was willing to heed her or not.

The drop from the large rock was steeper than anticipated, and the girl had had to fall into a roll to keep from breaking her neck. Even then her wrist twisted in a strange angle and cracked like the snap of a stick under a man's boot.

Mab sat up as best she could, and cradling her wrist to her chest looked about her for any sign of her brother. There was little at first, yet something caught her eye – sharp and dull grey, barely visible in a cluster of fallen leaves…it was his hunting knife. Struggling to her feet Mab stumbled more than once in her haste to get to the small object. Yet finally she reached it and with her good hand she scooped it up and stood there, longer than was probably wise, just staring at it in wonder. Llue would never have run off without it, it was the best hunting knife in the tribe…why a man could kill for a knife like this…so why leave it behind to be forgotten in a pile of leaves?

Even if something terrible had happened…even if robbers and the men from other tribes had come across her brother lying motionless at the bottom of the rock, they'd have taken the knife...they'd have always taken the knife. Yet if it were a beast…would they have really taken the body, left nothing behind…not even the bloody tracks back to their lair? So, what…what could be so terrible in itself…that it wouldn't need a knife like this?

Her brother could be dead just by the fall, it was the risk all scouts took in a place like this, but…but where was the body? He could be…he could be alive, screaming and in danger from something…something truly terrible but then if that were so…why had she not heard him? Why had she not come tumbling over the rock to the sound of his screams? She had to get back, warn the tribe that there was…well that was the stupid part, she didn't even know…the only thing her brother had left behind was the hunting knife and anyway, she couldn't get back up the rock even if she tried.

The drop from the rock had indeed been a steep one, and it was as smooth from this side as it had been from the last. There was no hope of her climbing back up it even if she hadn't had a twisted wrist; she'd have to go on, and if her brother was out there…alive and well, playing some stupid joke on her again, well he'd need his knife back wouldn't he?

Half an hour later

Mab could have sworn there were more trees than when she had last looked, as if they were being born from the shadows ever growing longer around her. She was not quite sure how long she'd been following her brother's trail, what little there was of it. In fact, she was not all together certain that it was her brother's trail. Someone had been here, of that there was ample evidence: snapped twigs, dented leaves, the general air of disruption someone in a hurry leaves in their wake, but there was nothing solid to say it was necessarily Llue or his captor. She could only move forward on the assumption that it was.

Something caught her foot and she was sent tumbling forward and landing on her already dented wrist she could do nothing but scream. The pain that had thus far dulled to a low throb filled her mind and she could see nothing but the blood that now swelled out of the hideously swollen thing. In the distance, she could hear birds, wicked crows of wicked people in high stone towers – her mother had once told her. Never let them catch a glimpse of you, the dead woman had said, lest they spirit you away for dark deeds in darker places. Overtaken by that same childlike fear that had caused her to seek her parents furs all those years ago, Mab grabbled to her knees and crawled. She didn't know where she was going, just anywhere to be a way from that terrible noise, anywhere where the wicked birds wouldn't find her. She bit down on her lip till it bled to keep from screaming, and she closed her eyes tight.

As she crawled, the blood from her lip swelling every time she had to put her twisted hand down, the ground beneath her seemed to change. Going from soft forest floor, leaves crunching underneath her hands… to something hard and cold. She could no longer hear the cries of the wicked birds anymore, so she risked opening her eyes. Darkness surrounded her; deeper than even the tightest packed forest could offer.

Mab's heart began to flutter and before she could stop herself, she cried out again, not in pain this time but panic. How long had she been crawling blind? Because wherever her path had taken her one thing was certain, it was no longer daylight.

The young scout sat back on her haunches and stared up into the night sky. Stars had always mystified her when she was a child, how could they be so far up high and yet not fall? Did they have some greater purpose other than helping lost scouts find their way home? Maybe, maybe not, she supposed she never would find out now either way, still they were such pretty things. Like that big one in the middle that all the others seemed to spiral out from, she had never seen it's like before in the sky. It was large and sharp like a dagger and it was growing bigger…and bigger…and bigger. Before she could fully comprehend her situation, she was grabbed from behind and shoved against a wall. Only the harsh sound of her brother's voice hissing at her to 'stay the fuck where you are' stilled her and she found herself holding her breath. The light from the star was growing brighter by the second, and Mab raised her eyes up past her brother's shoulder to where it and its smaller kin shone above their heads. They no longer seemed like stars anymore, they no longer seemed like light anymore; they were holes, holes in the sky, and…and they were dripping…not water, or even the sharp smell of a bat's piss…it was something else. Something far fouler than that…those holes, those holes in the sky were dripping blood.

'Close your eyes,' said Llue, his voice broken and shallow, as if he could…as he could barely breath from the smell of it. 'Don't look at it Mab, don't look at it and it can't hurt ye…they're nothing but ghosts. Don't look at 'em and they can't hurt yer.'

But it was a lie, and Mab couldn't look away as before her the blood stopped dripping from those holes in the sky and began to pour, and pour and pour, till the very air around them was swimming with their bloody tears of grief.

They were screaming, the stars were screaming, the night was screaming, her brother was screaming, Mab was screaming. Yes, they were all screaming, but what was most amazing of all was, the blood was screaming.

Present

After her tale had finished, the girl collapsed to the ground, breathing raggedly, the ending to her story spluttering into a confusing babble of sobs and gibberish. The Elder motioned for one of the stronger members of the tribe to come forward and deal with this. The large man bent and lifted the girl looking again to the Elder for direction.

'If what she says is true then we must flee. Carry her for now; once she is rested and calmer, she may be able to tell us what became of her brother. For now, though, we must leave this place.' He turned and addressed the rest of the tribe. 'Carry your children, for we stop for no man, woman or child that may fall behind. Remember, the good of the many outweighs the good of the few.' And with those closing words they began to flee.

From behind the safety of the trees The Ghost watched all this with dull eyes, Men were such strange creatures. Before, in the dark place, they seemed more an abstract concept then an actual living breathing race of people. For Men did not go to the dark place, Men went on to somewhere else, some were better. He could have hated them for that. Yet, bitterness of such things was ridiculous now that they were rid of the dark place.

Turning back from the mouth of the wood, he glided towards the cluster of his subjects. They may no longer have their physical forms, appearing in this world merely as wisps and shades, terrors in the night, but his duty to them was still as clear and unfinished as it had ever been before. They parted in his wake and soon he was back at the lip of the cave that housed their escape, their tunnel to freedom, at least in the physical world.

The boy's body lay sprawled across the cave's floor, he'd drowned in the Ghost's blood, his people's blood. It wasn't supposed to be like this, he'd hoped they could all arrive on the other side as they had been in their old realm, but it hadn't happened like that. As they'd moved through the tunnel, their old forms had melted away until only the blood remained. Once they left the mouth of the tunnel, they became what they are now, slivers of beings hardly daring to exist at all in a world like this. He owed them more than that existence; he owed them so much more than that.

He had not meant to kill the boy and he was almost relieved the girl had escaped, though he could sense there would be trouble from that in the future. Still perhaps the boy's death was not in vain. Reaching down the Ghost touched the young man's face, and his ghostly hands began to sink into the boy's flesh. Yes, perhaps the boy's death had not been in vain, and he would return solid form back to his people, one ghost at a time.

The Lord of the Dead opened his new eyes, and blinked up at the world.