It was darker than the backside of a witches arse, and it smelled rather like the same, but Bill Ferny didn't mind. His bulging eyes were accustomed to the dark and dank places of the world, he had spent his whole life rooting around in them. You found useful things down there, money and easy women, items left unattended. There was none of that here, of course. The old silver mine was deceptively simple. The shaft was large, and the light of a greasy oil lantern barely illuminated both walls at once when he stood in the center of the path. It ran heedlessly on, cutting through dirt, rock and red mudstone.
There were dark patches on the walls that looked to be other tunnels, but they all resolved into mere indentations into which the shadow poured, turning each into a gaping maw that crumpled away to reveal the illusion at the last second. Now and then a small bone crunched underfoot or was kicked away by one of his sock-clad toes as they protruded from his shoes.
A horrible, gravely voice was echoing down the corridor. It spoke the black tongue of Mordor, or at least, one of the myriad dialects that the orcs had created amongst themselves after they fled from Sauron's ranks and into the distant, lonely places of the world. Bill Ferny was not afraid of orcs, and sometimes, he actually preferred them. They had rules and limits and dimensions, just like any other beast. Even though he knew little of the Black Speech and didn't care to have it on his tongue if he could help it, many of the cleverer orcs could also speak in the common tongue of men. Not well, but where there was talk there could be bargaining. Orcs were good at bargaining, but a lot of them weren't terribly bright. It was the clever ones you had to watch out for.
His hand reached into his pocket and caressed the handle of something very sharp and very pointy. His little girl. She never failed him. The clever ones had best watch out, because if they weren't paying attention, Big Bad Bill Ferny was gonna get 'em. His fingers brushed against something else as he pulled his hand out of the pocket. It was smooth and round, and he could not ignore it. Ever since it had come into his possession he had started to hear things. Little whispers, too low to be heard.
The orcish voices were getting louder, and before long the passage revealed a pair of orcs standing guard, although it was entirely possible they had simply wandered down here and gotten lost. They were taking part in the orc's favorite past-time besides war: arguing. At the approach of Bill Ferny and his feeble little lantern however, they fell silent.
"Pardon me lads." Bill said and made to walk right between them.
A pair of bladed pikes suddenly shifted themselves into his path and he halted. Orc craftsmanship was not the finest, but it cut a wound that was hard to close, and they spent hours grinding at the damn things with rocks until they were as sharp as scythes.
"Whats a slimy little newt like you doing down 'ere?" The larger one growled, in perfect Westron.
"I'm going to see Miss Bones. She would be awful unhappy if I was waylaid."
"Well isn't that odd-" the other one said, "because we was just thinking how easy it would be to waylay you."
"You're right, it would." Bill said, thinking quickly.
One clever orc was bad enough, two was downright unlucky. Still, it was possible to play the smarter ones off of each other, just like humans.
"But once Miss Bones finds out her present is missing, she'll have you both strung up on hooks and ripped into little tiny bits."
This caused an impression. There was a sideways glance, and he could tell some of the enthusiasm had gone out of them. Miss Bones was a lady whose reputation had gotten around. She was almost a god among orcs in these parts, and closer to a patron saint than Sauron had ever been. The mere invocation of her name imposed order on unruly orcs. Of course, that uncommon obedience was often used to send raiding parties as far out as the Shire, but that was hardly his problem.
"Well this here is a toll road. Pay us a toll." The big orc continued, unperturbed.
"Yeh, pay us a toll!" The smaller on echoed sycophantically.
"I haven't got any money." Bill lied.
"Give us the present then, we'll deliver it!" The larger orc demanded.
Instinctively, Bill's hand slid into his pocket. But it did not stop at the handle of the spike. Instead, something told him he should reach down at place his finger into the ring. He clenched down on it and opened his mouth, preparing a counter-argument that would make sense to an orc, and then... stopped.
Something was different about the world. It was odd. Dull yet shiny. The surface of reality rippled. The two orcs jumped back in surprise, and so did Bill Ferny, because at that moment a voice whispered in his ear, eerie and distant.
Move past them, before they recover.
He did so, and as he squeezed between the recoiling orcs their gaze did not track with him, instead remaining fixed on some point far down the tunnel in the direction he had come. He continued to walk and got the odd feeling that he could see a lot more than just the walls of the mine. The lantern had been abandoned, as he no longer needed it to see.
I can feel a great age ending. Bring me out under the starlight.
It would not stop, but he could not take it off. The gold circle felt cold against his flesh. Abruptly, the corridor widened into a roughly-hewn spherical chamber several dozen feet wide. There were scorch marks in the walls where the men had used the blasting powders to send great fissures into the living rock, allowing chunks to be pried out and hauled away. A ghostly figure was standing there, holding a bundle in her arms.
What did you do Bill. What did you do!? She screamed at him, and he cowered, but did not stop walking.
"I'm sorry Sally, I'm sorry..." he was murmuring, and there were tears on his greasy cheeks.
Amidst the many blast holes, there was an entrance to another passageway, small and dark. If he had not had the ring, he would have dismissed it for an illusion, but there was not lamplight to cast shadows now, only the world around him and it's strange pulse as it scraped past, one second at a time. The voice was bolder now, and the tone sent strange icy sensations down his spine. It was high and garbled, a rasp on the edge of hearing.
Do not fear the watchers ahead, they cannot touch you.
It struck him that he liked it much better when the ring was only whispering inaudibly, and then a moment later he realized that he still had it on. He pulled it off and placed it in his pocket, and all was pitch black once again. He looked behind him one last time before entering the next passageway, but Sally was gone. Inwardly he groaned, because he was too frightened to make a sound. With his hands, he began to feel his way onwards, towards the other side and the fresh air that he knew was waiting.
First, though, he would have to pass through the tombs.
Their respite was brief. Instead of making camp they pushed on through the "night", although the outside world was of zero concern to the tunnel's environment. It's path was straight, but gently weaving so that the whole corridor was not in view at once. After only a few dozen paces Nellas claimed that she could hear orc voices, and as they grew closer the rest of them could hear it as well. Elden drew one of his luckier arrows from the slim quiver strapped to his pack. He felt murderously impatient at the moment. Bill Ferny was scrabbling off to devil knew where with his precious ring and they had taken on a couple of Haradrim wastrels to help them "track". As if it wasn't abundantly obvious which way he had gone.
When he calmed himself enough to think about it, the main reason he was angry was his own stupidity. Not only had he waltzed into Archet and allowed a rank amateur to pick his pocket, he had blown an excellent shot. An innocent pony had died, and a pissy little crook had gotten clean away. All his fault. Soon, though, the harsh voices were almost on top of them, and there wasn't time for reflection, only a taught bowstring.
"You were the one that let him get away you useless bag!"
"Don't talk to me about useless, Mordor-scum. You couldn't find a meal if it sat on your lap and bit you."
It sounded like only two, and oddly, they were speaking the common tongue. As their plump heads came into sight, Elden let the arrow fly. The orc didn't even have time to clutch at his face, he simply dropped like a sack of potatoes. Before he could reach back and notch another arrow, Surad grasped her knife by the tips of her fingers and hurled it at the other orc, who was still recovering from the shock of no longer having anyone to argue with.
"That's a nice trick." Elden remarked. "You'll have to teach that to me sometime."
"If we ever get out of this hole alive, it's the second thing I'll do."
"Second after what?"
"Killing Ferny." Surad said with a wolfish grin.
Elden returned it in kind.
"Not if I get him first."
He was starting to relax around them. Staying suspicious took energy, and even without the light of the sun to tell him what time it was, he knew it was late by the leadenness of his limbs. Still, they strove onward. The quarry was close.
The tunnel ran on for a little while longer and then terminated in a very large open space. As Nellas's little balls of light rushed out to fill the space, he saw that above them was a tall and cavernous dome and striped with sparkling veins of ore. Tools and carts half filled with rock lay scattered about, as if the miners of old would return from elevenses any moment to resume work. Into the far wall was set another entrance-way. This one was much more crude than the tunnel that had birthed them. Instead of the smooth, clean fractures made by pick and blasting agent this tunnel looked like it had been gnawed by rats, although orcs was probably a closer guess. A cold wind was blowing ominously out of it.
"Well?" Durus said, looking at Elden.
"I guess we go in... unless you hear something Nellas?"
Nellas shook her head.
"Silent as the grave."
He didn't know whether to be amused that she had used a human turn of phrase, or uneasy because he agreed with her. It was awfully quiet, even for a cave. Still, seeing no other alternative, he forged ahead. Nellas's lights returned to her and bobbed along ahead of him cheerfully.
This tunnel was even straighter and even shorter. Up ahead there was another exit, but still no daylight beckoned. There was barely enough room to squeeze the horses through, but they all managed. Their hooves clacked on something hard and smooth as they came out the other side.
Once again Nellas's magelights swooped out, attempting to bring light to the cavernous room. They were unable to complete their task, but what they did see was enough to make them stop and stare. They were standing on a wide stone ledge above an enormous chasm. The blue lights twinkled below, illuminating massive pillars that rose up all the way to the ceiling far above, cathedral-like. Every inch of wall was covered with pictorials. Men and horses, horses and men. Men with helmets and beards and stern faces. Strange and terrible creatures folding under the onslaught of blows from these stern men, always with the mountains at their back.
On the floor of the chasm lay square caskets in perfectly symmetrical rows from wall to wall.
"What is this place?" Surad said, her voice frightened and fascinated in equal measure.
Before he could reply, Nellas supplied his answer for him.
"One of the great burial grounds of the men of the north. It is very old, even by my reckoning."
"You are all people of the north to us." Surad said.
Elden began to walk forward, and they followed him tentatively, looking all around.
"In the times before Rohan, the men of the north lived in the icy wastes beyond Middle Earth. They followed the great herds down through the valleys, at last settling in the Riddermark. The breeds my kin ride even today are descended from the hardy stock that carried my ancestors to victory."
As he spoke they walked along the suspended causeway that ran above the chasm. It was wide enough for three people to walk abreast, but they instinctively kept to single file with Elden leading the way and the Haradrim bringing up the rear. Smoke walked along beside him, keeping his head down. His ears were twitching wildly, and his eyes were wide.
Suddenly, Elden realized that Nellas's orbs were not the only blue lights. Other things were stirring far below. Indistinct shapes moved between the rows of coffins or circled round the massive load-bearing pillars that upon closer inspection were huge statues of men in chain mail clutching shield and spear.
Then, the silence was broken, and the barrow wights spoke.
Cold be hand and heart and bone
and cold be sleep under stone.
Never more the dawn to see
till the world breaks and washes out to sea.
It was a mournful dirge that echoed from every surface. He glanced back at the group and saw panic beginning to rise in all of them, even the elf. When he looked back, he saw why.
A barrow wight hovered inches from his face. It's sword was pitted and corroded, it's robes little more than rags. Smoke whinnied loudly and turned to move back towards the others, nearly knocking him off the platform. The shade did not seem to notice. A bony hand reached out, and passed through his face without effect. Elden drew his sword, but the wight seemed not to notice. It only stared into his eyes, and he found he could not look away.
Kinsfolk dear, once I knew
rigid bone and fresh sinew.
Depart you now this cursed land
I will not be slain by yours or any hand.
Gradually, fear began to leave Elden, and was replaced by a curious substitute: awe. Slowly he sank onto one knee as though greeting a king.
"We beg forgiveness for disturbing your rest. We are merely travelers seeking a foe who breaks the law that you set down."
When he looked up, the barrow wight was slipping back into one of the columns. Even after his ghostly form had dissipated, the rasping voice carried on echoing for several seconds.
The darkness stretches, deep and wide
many graves, this cavern hides.
The one you seek passed this way
and departed for the light of day.
"The light of day sounds really good right about now..." Durus whispered in his ear, teeth chattering wildly.
He had to agree. They said not another word to each other until they had crossed the causeway. On either side of the opposite landing was a stairway cut into the wall that went all the way down to the bottom of the chasm. The passage ahead of them led them steeply upwards, with flights of stone steps separated by short stretches of flat corridor with rows of the same stern faced statues on a smaller scale. He could tell it was the way out because the breeze was colder and fresher here. Sure enough, the next two bends in the path revealed the grey light of dawn peeking in from the outside.
Unable to contain themselves they sprinted out to it and rejoiced in the fresh air. The sun's light was just beginning to overcrowd the stars, and they were rapidly fading from sight, one by one. The first snows of winter had fallen sometime during the night, and thick drifts already covered much of the broken landscape. Ahead of them the mountains fell away sharply, with the Weather Hills continuing on their right for another few leagues. Elden had thought for sure that they were already at the North Downs, but apparently he had misjudged. His feet were sore from walking, but strain was no guarantee of distance.
The Downs loomed even higher than the Weather Hills, and at their feet sat the greatest fortress ever built by men, now abandoned to darkness and decay. In the grey light of dawn it appeared out of the dissipating mist like an apparition, its towering walls and spires competing with the Downs for grandeur.
"What is that?" Durus said, pointing.
"Fornost." Elden said. "The Gondor of the ancient world. Perhaps that is where Ferny is running to."
"It certainly seems that way." Surad said, bending down and examining the snow. "His prints are clear as day. It will be easy to find him as long as it doesn't snow too much harder."
"I wouldn't count on it." Elden replied, "But we must rest here a while. I am exhausted."
They all went back to the mouth of the cave. Elden was just about to cast around for a tree to hack kindling from when Nellas pointed at the ground and her little lights converged with a whooshing noise, creating a crackling blue fire that was as warm as the real thing. Although they were tired, none of them slept, they simply rested by the warmth of the blaze. Even the horses folded their legs underneath them and lay down to nap in the strange half-awake way that horses do. Elden lit his pipe and pulled deeply on it, letting the smoke waft upwards to the ceiling. He still wasn't satisfied, and he wouldn't be until they found the ring, but they had made it this far, and that was something.
Durus seemed to be thinking along the same lines.
"They should call you ghost-master instead of horse-master."
"I'm a master of many things, barbarian. Horses are just one item on a long list."
"Pah, barbarian yourself!" Durus shot back.
Surad piped up, obviously attempting to head off any brazen words that they would come to regret.
"Are you wanderers?"
Elden glanced at Nellas, who pursed her lips slightly, the elven equivalent of a shrug.
"I... don't know." Elden said, honestly.
"Then you must be." Surad continued. "If you don't have a destination, you are a wanderer. A nomad. My people are nomads by birth, but I must say, this land is a much more interesting place to wander than my home. Harad is mostly flat and dry."
"How long have you been wandering?" Nellas asked.
"Ever since Sauron's army came apart at the Black Gate." Durus said, pulling his mate closer. "She caught my eye as we were fleeing and... well, we've been together ever since."
They kissed hungrily, and for a moment Elden felt very awkward sitting so close to Nellas. Soon though, they broke apart, and the moment had passed.
"Elden has a similar story." Nellas volunteered. "He wandered into Imladris with a pack of his former comrades chasing behind him."
"Did he now? My my, I thought you men of Gondor were all sweetness and light!" Surad said in a teasing tone.
"I'm not from Gondor, I'm from Rohan." Elden retorted, annoyed that they had not picked up on this even after he had explicitly talked about his ancestry.
"What's the difference?" Durus said, almost casually.
There was a stony silence that seemed even more ominous than the grave they had just exited. Even Nellas could feel the tension in Elden's stare. Just when she thought he was about to leap up and strike the Haradrim, he cracked a joke.
"Take a child from Gondor, roll him in straw and muck, and then place him on the saddle and don't let him off until he's a man. That's the difference."
There was a hearty laugh from all of them, perhaps a little louder than the jest warranted. All three of them had seen the look in Elden's eye when Durus had made his comment. The boy took his lineage deadly seriously. Eventually the sun broke the horizon and began to warm their skin. Nellas let her magelight peter out naturally, and they all got up at once without being prompted.
It was time to move on. Surad took him aside while Nellas and Durus checked through their packs to take stock of how many more days worth of supplies they could count on.
"What is it about this ring that you desire so badly?"
Her eyes were serious, but Elden still wasn't willing to tell her the truth. If she knew, then they might have to race two expert trackers to their prey as well as the prey itself.
"It's got... sentimental value to me. I couldn't put a price on it."
She gave him a look that screamed "whatever you say, horse-master", and let him be. Subconsciously he grasped at his collarbone. It felt like there was a hole there, a circular space where the ring belonged, and was no longer.
"Ferny, when I catch you I am going to make the last minutes of your miserable life a living hell..." He muttered, to no one in particular.
The wind snatched his curse away the moment it left his lips and dashed it on the frozen ground.