Parts of this chapter are taken directly from ‘Fog on the Barrow-downs’ from The Fellowship of the Ring, and ‘Flies and Spiders’ from The Hobbit.

DISCLAIMER:  Of course. The characters don’t belong to me, I just get to think about them day and night.

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SPELLBOUND

Chapter 4 -- Voices in the Dark

It was nearly dawn, and Goldberry lay wondering what had awakened her.  She quietly left the house and walked a bit in the garden, sensing something strange.  The River Daughter closed her eyes and reached out into the moist, heavy air.  Turning east, she felt the fog drifting... directed from its natural course, a plaything for something with no respect for nature... no respect for living things...

“Aye, my pretty lady, the mists bring their warning.  I’m off to find the hobbit lads, and cannot wait for morning.”

Goldberry was unsurprised to find Tom next to her, frowning in the direction of the downs.  But before she could speak, there was a commotion and sound of light hooves.  Tom’s horse, Fatty Lumpkin, trotted into view from where he had been grazing, followed by five riderless ponies.

*~*~*~*~*~*

All is lost...

Frodo opened his eyes, at first aware only of a feeling of dread.  The air about him was dark and musty.  He heard a low, ceaseless murmur, and felt cold stone beneath him.  His last conscious thought had been despair -- that their journey had ended in disaster.  He had been taken by a Barrow-wight, and was now imprisoned in the darkness.

“Was it truly so dark, Bilbo?”

“Frodo lad, I could scarce see my hand in front of my own eyes.”

Bilbo.  Frodo’s thoughts flew back, unbidden, to a far off time -- sitting in front of the hearth at Bag End, listening raptly to stories that made his uncle’s eyes sparkle and gleam.  The real stories, grim and serious, when he and Bilbo were alone, and his uncle wasn’t embellishing anything for his uppity relations or making his Adventure sound jolly for the children.

Just the thought of Bilbo made Frodo’s heart pound less frantically.  As he lay quietly, he became aware that the darkness was lifting.  A pale, green light filled the chamber, emanating from somewhere near him.  His realized that his hands were crossed upon his breast, and at first he dared not move anything other than his head.  Turning to the left, saw his friends.  Pale, still as death, Merry, Pippin, and Sam lay next to him, dressed in rags and adorned with jewels.  Were they dead?  But no... Frodo could see that they breathed slowly, deeply, as if in sleep.  Merry whimpered softly, caught in a nightmare from which he could not wake.  A long sword lay across the throats of his friends, swords hung on the walls... there were weapons everywhere.  Jewels, coins, glittering gold and silver were heaped and scattered wherever he looked, glittering coldly in the pale, green light.

The low murmur that filled his ears slowly resolved into words, words into song, song into incantation.

Cold be hand and heart and bone,
And cold be sleep under stone...

It went on and on, singing of despair and death; darkness without sun, misery without hope, endless thirst, endless cold...

Frodo held his breath, wondering if he was being turned to stone.  He felt something brush his mind, then withdraw.  The chanting stopped.

The Ringbearer has awakened, the wight realized, in time to witness the conclusion of the ritual.  It is fitting for this halfling to watch his guardians die before I cast him into sleep.  His heart will fall into darkness along with his thoughts, and then I will send out a message through the earth, and the Witch king will come for his prize.  Let death be the last thing he sees before awakening again -- as prisoner of the one he will serve for as long as He finds it amusing.  The One Ring will be returned to He who forged it, and the Dark Lord’s hand will extend a shadow that will blot out the very stars themselves.  The Dark Lord’s hand... Observe what one hand can do, small one.

The wight once again embodied itself, in the shape of a long arm and hand.  It crept slowly along the side passage and entered the large chamber, toward the stone where the Ringbearer and his friends lay.

Frodo, his ears attuned to even the smallest sound, heard behind his head a creaking and scraping sound.  Raising himself up slightly, he saw an arm inching forwards, the fingers reaching for the hilt of the sword that lay across Sam’s throat.

There’s no escape, Frodo thought wildly.  What can I do?  With a gasp, he realized that his own fingers were reaching for something -- the Ring in his pocket.  A vision came to him of freedom -- his friends dead and entombed forever, but he would see the sun again, feel cool grass under his feet.  He could put on the Ring, and the wight might miss him in the dark, as Gollum had missed Bilbo.  If there was a way into this barrow, there was surely a way out.  He could find it... escape... Gandalf would understand.  Bilbo would...

Bilbo would understand only one thing, Frodo thought grimly, and leaving his friends to die was not it.  He swiftly banished all thoughts of the Ring and reached instead for a small sword he had discovered by his side.  He got to his knees, then stooped low, trembling, but resolved to save his friends or die with them.  The groping fingers reached out toward Sam, and at that moment Frodo lunged forward, hacking at the arm.  The hand was severed, and Frodo fell on top of Merry just as the blade he held shattered, and the greenish light went out.  The barrow was plunged into darkness and a shrill scream echoed throughout the chamber.  Then there was a snarl of rage, and a growing malice that filled the air.

I’ve done my best, Frodo thought desperately.  What else can I...

Here am I, naughty little fly;
You are fat and lazy.
You cannot trap me, though you try,
In your cobwebs crazy.

Frodo could nearly hear Bilbo’s voice, singing to distract the spiders from making a meal of the dwarves.  How many times had he asked to hear the stories?  How had Bilbo found such courage, again and again?

“Can you imagine, Frodo, how enormous that dragon was?  How long was that tunnel, with just one scared hobbit all alone in the dark?”

“How could you go on, Bilbo?  I would have been frightened to death.”

“I think not,” Bilbo had said with a curious smile that Frodo had not understood at the time.  “You underestimate yourself, my boy.  If you ever find yourself alone in the dark, facing something no one else dares face... I think you might surprise yourself.”

“Bilbo,” Frodo whispered now, “what must I do?”

Old fat spider spinning in a tree!
Old fat spider can’t see me!

Such a silly rhyme... And then Frodo felt a sudden, wild hope, even as the smothering darkness begin to thicken around him.

"Ho!  Tom Bombadil, Tom Bombadillo!
By water, wood and hill, by the reed and willow,
By fire, sun and moon, harken now and hear us!
Come, Tom Bombadil, for our need is near us!"

And faintly, from far away through earth and stone, there was an answering voice.

** TBC **

Anso the Hobbit:  My goodness, what a compliment!  Many thanks, Anso.  (And I didn’t think too many folks would ‘get’ that the key was the Old Forest gate key.  Go you!)

aprilkat:  I can’t remember anyone ever referring to my writing as ‘stately’ before!  Thank you.

Ariel:  Thank you so much.  I’m trying very hard to do a good job on this story.

Auntiemeesh:  I’m so amazed at how folks can have four or five stories going at once -- two is more than enough for me

Breon Briarwood:  I can compare my bitten nails to yours!  Luckily, we’re finally getting to the more hopeful part of the story.

Claudia:  For me, the key to the wight’s POV (or the Witch-king’s, or maybe even Saruman or Sauron) is that they consider all people as ‘objects’ to be ignored, used, or discarded.  That’s about as chilling as it gets.

Clever Hobbit:  We’re coming out of the “chilly” part of the story, at last!

Connie B:  I’m not sure my story will go far enough to look at any long-term effects on Merry, but I’d sure love to read a story that does.  One of the things I love most about hobbits is their resilience in the face of truly unthinkable experiences.

cpsings4him:  One of the most interesting things about writing this was trying to see the hobbits as the wight might see them.  I doubt it has had much contact with people who weren’t ‘soldiers’.

cuthalion:  I never thought I could write anything ‘frightening’ -- I think it’s only possible because I know the hobbits will be all right!

Dreamflower:  “Why did Merry seem to have knowledge of the past? (And on that last one, I have a theory of my own.)”  Oooooh, write it!!!

easterlily41482:  Thank you so much.  You can imagine how many times I’ve read this chapter, doing research.

Elven Kitten:  That chapter always intrigued me with all the stuff that wasn’t explained.  I have no idea why I feel compelled to try to explain it, but I’m relieved my logic seems sound.

Gayalondiel:  No worries, Gaya!  Whatever I’ve ‘done’ to our hobbitses, courageous Frodo (and that Bombadil fellow) will set it to rights.  That’ll teach me.

Gentle Hobbit:  I like the way you say that --“slow, deliberate preparations and thoughts” -- and why not?  I suspect we’re seeing the only thoughts and activities a Barrow-wight ever experiences, and there would certainly be no reason to hurry.

girlofring:  What a lovely compliment.  Thank you.

Hai Took:  I’m glad you’re enjoying the story so much.  I haven’t written pure “book verse” for awhile, and it’s a fun challenge to figure all this out.

Illyria:  I love how you say that -- that the wight “tried to classify them, understand them in his own terms”... wonderful!  I’m so thrilled these details seem to make sense.

Inkling:  A “dutiful minion” is a great way to describe the wight.  It truly is trapped by its duty and rituals.

Iorhael:  It’s dreadful to imagine what would have happened if the hobbits hadn’t escaped from that barrow, isn’t it?  That’s not a story I’d ever write, though.

Larner:  Thank you so much.  Sting’s “mate” (glowing green instead of blue) seemed a reasonable explanation for the green light in the barrow, and why the light went out when the sword Frodo was using splintered.

Lily the Hobbit:  I’m sending you hugs for your speechless self!

lindahoyland: It’s been fascinating to weave all this together.  I’ve learned a lot!

Lindelea:  Thank you so much!  And I had to figure out some explanation for that greenish light.  What a relief that it all seems to be making sense.  I was trying to think all this through for a long time before I started writing.

little-old-me3:  I’m so glad you’re still enjoying this.  I like thinking that even a Barrow wight would sense that Sam is Frodo’s sworn guardian.

lovethosehobbits:  It is a stretch, tree!  But how exciting.

Meethrill:  Thank you!  What a challenge to try to explain the mysteries of this part of the Tale.

my-fool-of-a-took:  Who knew the wight had a perspective?  It’s been fun to try to find it.

Mysterious Jedi:  Sam is so worthy of respect; even a Barrow-wight can sense it!

Nilmandra:  That’s an interesting point about what Gandalf would have thought about all this when he heard about it.  What a close call for Middle-earth... and the hobbits.

Pipwise Brandygin:  Oooh, thank you for highlighting the parts you enjoyed.  That means a lot.  And you ‘got’ the part about the key!  I wasn’t sure too many folks would understand that little reference.

smalldiver:  The ‘green light’ for wights is entirely my invention -- I’m very proud of it!  I needed to come up with an explanation for the greenish light in the barrow when Frodo awoke, and why the light went out when the sword he was using splintered.

Tathar:  And finally Frodo awakens!  I’ve been eagerly waiting for this part myself, but that awful wight isn’t going to be too pleased.

tintinnabulation:  I never thought I’d be writing a fic that folks shouldn’t read late at night, or with the lights out, but I guess this qualifies!