A deadly fog descends upon the Barrow Downs
In the ground beneath a great cold stone, a ghoulish visage haunts the shadows and hungers for that which it can never have.
In the darkness, a Barrow-wight fingers a vast horde of gold, ever hungry, never satisfied.
The Barrow-wights of the Northern Downs are said to have come from the Dark Years, creatures of sallow flesh and twisted spirit. Creations of the first Dark Lord Morgoth!
The Wight spent it’s days counting and caressing it’s golden coins, polished jewels and empty treasure in the long hours of darkness, always ravening for more.
A great hunger gnawed at this ghoul as it sat amidst death and decay. A hunger for flesh, but also a hunger for the spirit of those it trapped beneath the tombs of the long dead kings of the North. A long life it had, because it devoured the spirit of those it ensnared. As it sat in the darkness upon the bones of it’s victims, the barrow-wight turned it’s head suddenly… fore it had heard life.
In the world of light above, the sun was only at the hour of noon in the pale sky.
The creature heard the sound of hooves upon the turf above it. It began to scuttle along a thin narrow tunnel, that led to the very edge of the downs. The sounds became louder and then ceased altogether. The creature waited… silent… still as stone. Then close above, the sound of laughter rang out… a sound full of joy… a sound of sunlight and hope. To the barrow-wight, it was a sound that filled it with an insatiable desire to feed.
The wight scrambled further along the tunnel until it came to a small open space filled with bones.
In the center of this small tomb, the base of a great stone sat, fat and heavy. It was the bottom most half of a great stone that ran upward to the Downs above, where it’s top most tip struck out of the turf above. The wight placed it’s long thin white hands upon the cold stone, it could feel the voices above through the vibration of the rock. It began to chant quietly in the darkness holding on to the barrow-stone, as it’s hands moved over the carved stone-work. It sang a song of sleep and forgetfulness… a song of darkness without end.
It waited in the dark, it’s hunger unabated. The eyes of this creatures were filled with an empty madness of desire that glowed and filled it’s victims with a cold terror.
After many long hours, it heard movement above once more. The voices were no longer laughing, but were filled with the sound of apprehension and fear. Darkness had come to the Downs… it was the time of the barrow-wight!
The creature scuttled back along the narrow tunnels of old stone and came to it’s much larger barrow. It stood before a stone door, ancient and etched with deadly runes. It spoke a whispered word of opening and the door began to move as the sound of stone scarping on rock disturbed the foggy silence in the world outside.
The withered wight emerged from it’s barrow on the downs above. The faded hills were covered in a cool darkness and a damp mist that made all the world silent and indistinct. It waited in the shadows for it’s unsuspecting prey.
Suddenly, voices muffled by the fog rang out in the night air. They were filled with panic and dismay and finally with raw fear… a shouting that would soon turn to terror and then into a long unending silence!
The barrow-wight opened it arms and enfolded it’s victims in darkness.
Lay your staff on the link below to follow the Time-line of the War of the Ring from the Eye of Mordor.