The Eagle and the Star
By heraldofmanwe

"But you still haven't answered my question: where are you from?" asked the hobbit.

"I've lived too many places to say I am from anywhere," replied Elerína.

"But why come to Bree?" inquired the hobbit.

"It's a lovely town," she answered with a smile.  The poor hobbit meandered back to his table, no closer to unravelling the mystery of Bree's strangest visitors.  No one had stirred up as much rumor and conjecture in the Bree lands as Elerína and her companion Thorongil since Mr. Underhill and company passed through Bree and took up with Strider a half century prior.

Everyone had their own theories as to who they were.  Most thought they were nobles from an elven land, the most cited being Lorien or Rivendell, with the Grey Havens and Mirkwood being occasionally mentioned by more knowledgeable folk.  Why they were in Bree was far less agreed upon: some said they were eloping, or on honeymoon, others that they were spies, some that they were outcasts, and a few thought that they were simply looking for someplace quiet to live, away from the troubles of the wider world.

Suddenly a man burst into the inn, interrupting the mirth and merriment of the hall.  He was clearly in distress. From his voice and appearance it was obvious something serious was afoot.

"Help," he cried, "we must search the Downs!"

He was at once barraged with obvious questions.  What was he talking about, and more importantly, what did the Barrow Downs have to do with it?  Everyone in Bree knew that nothing good ever came from the Downs.

After everyone had a chance to calm down the situation became clear - the man's son Percy, only twelve years old, had last been seen playing near the Barrow Downs around noon.  Percy's father had spent at least six hours searching for him to no avail until night began to fall. Realizing it would do more harm than good to stay on the Downs at night, he ran as fast as he could to The Prancing Pony.  It was now seven at night and he hoped beyond hope that someone there would be willing to brave the cursed hills to search for his son.

None of the locals said a word.  Everyone stared uneasily at their food, or glanced from table to table to see who might volunteer.  There was one Ranger present, but he was too old for such an adventure. The town guard were good men, but a thousand years of horrifying legends told them not to set foot on the Downs after dark.  There was a party of dwarves, but they were merchants and craftsmen with no experience doing anything of this sort. That left Elerína and Thorongil.

Without a word to anyone Thorongil got up and left the public hall to go to his room.  Elerína went to speak with Percy's father. All the Bree-landers sighed in relief that someone was going to try to help, and doubly so that it would not have to be one of their own.

Thorongil soon returned dressed in the greens and browns of a ranger with a sword at his side and a bow on his back.  More than one hobbit marveled at the hilt of his sword - silver and gold with countless jewels set along the pommel and crossguard.  If ever there was a weapon to fight wights and spectres, they thought this must be it.

"I'll get the horses," said Thorongil to Elerína.

"Horses won't set foot on the Downs at noon, let alone after dark," cautioned the old Ranger from his table.

"Mine will," replied Thorongil gruffly, stepping outside.

"But thanks for the warning," added Elerína politely as he lead Percy's father out into dark streets the Bree.

As soon as they left, Sal Ferny stood up.

"Anyone want to bet on whether they return, and whether the boy comes back with them?" she asked the room.  She knew there would be takers, and she could make a tidy little profit running the pool. There was nothing illegal about betting in Bree, and it didn't bother her what ‘respectable folk’ thought about taking bets on whether men, women, and even a child would be alive come dawn the next day.

Outside the inn, Elerína tried to comfort Percy's father.  He was understandably distraught and wanted to go with them to help in any way he could.  Elerína was quite against that, ostensibly because he would only slow them down.

Suddenly Thorongil came riding up to them on his great black horse.  Elerína's snow white steed came galloping up moments later. The horses looked almost as out of place in Bree as their riders - they both were more suited to a cavalry charge than a plow.

"I can not promise that we will find your son alive," said Elerína, mounting her horse, "but I promise we will find him.  I will not say 'do not be afraid,' for I know such council would be vain. I will instead point out the clear sky and full moon - Elbereth has given your son the best chance he could have."

With a word to their horses Elerína and Thorongil sped towards the west gate.  The guardsman opened it as they approached; he was a clever man, and having heard of Percy's plight from his father was expecting that some would-be heroes would come riding through.  He was also a pragmatic man, and wished he were at the Prancing Pony to bet against their return.

"How long has it been since you actually had to track ... anything?" asked Elerína.

"A long time," replied Thorongil.  "How long has it been since you fought anything?"

Elerina nodded.  "Point taken.”

Soon the two adventurers came to the edge of the Downs, near where Percy had last been seen.  Unfortunately Percy's father had not known exactly where he had been when he last saw his son, so they had to spend time finding the start of the trail.  Fortunately what Thorongil lacked in recent experience he made up for with a sharp eye, and they soon set off onto the Downs in pursuit of young Percy.

As they passed between two particularly ominous looking barrows they were suddenly faced with a spectre of clearly hostile intent.  No sooner had the ghost of a decaying king appeared than Thorongil drew his bow and fired an arrow. Unfortunately it had no effect, passing straight through the ghostly apparition, much to Elerína's amusement.

"Eyes of an eagle indeed," she laughed.  "Clearly that is only an illusion."

Elerína seemed to be correct and they proceeded with their search without delay.  Fearing that they would find the boy too late, they risked losing the path by riding short distances between signs.  As midnight approached, the tracks led them atop a large barrow with standing stones upon its crest. There were some signs of a small struggle, and they found a child's shoe.

"Well this looks promising," said Thorongil.

"Promising is not the word I would have used," Elerína replied in a tone betraying her concern.

"If they had killed the boy there would be blood," explained Thorongil.  "They took him alive, most likely for some dark ritual."

Elerina shuddered at the thought.  "Well they certainly didn't invite him over for tea, so we better figure out where they took him."

"I suspect he is below our feet."

"And how might we get there?"

"The men of Numenor, even in Middle Earth, retained some of the rituals of the Eldar they fought beside in the wars of Beleriand," explained Thorongil.  "Among these is the custom of facing west at sunset. I suspect that they would have placed the entrance to their tombs on the western side of the barrow."

They searched and quickly found a door into the barrow.

"Do you think they would give us the boy if we agree to leave them in peace?" asked Elerína.

"What?" exclaimed Thorongil, trying to keep quiet.  "You don't negotiate with Barrow Wights!"

"Well not with that attitude you don't," said Elerína.

"I'm serious!" hissed Thorongil, not at all amused.  "They exist to kill and draw more and more power into their treasure hoard through dark rituals.  They don't understand barter or diplomacy. You'd have better luck negotiating with a bear."

"And don't tell me you could negotiate with a bear, that isn't the point!" he added, before she could answer.

"So what is the plan?" she asked.

"Slip in, quietly, and find the boy.  If we are engaged before we find him, you show them what real light looks like.  Once we find the boy, carry him outside. If possible I'd rather fight the guardians of the barrow under the light of the stars than in their own lair."

They stepped softly into the ancient tomb, which wasn't particularly complex a structure.  They followed a passage of twenty or thirty yards into a central burial chamber, where upon a central raised table should have sat the preserved body of some long dead king of men.  Long ago the Witch-King of Angmar, Lord of the Nine, defiled these tombs and laid upon them a terrible curse. He removed the bodies and in their place left spirits of gnawing hunger and insatiable greed.  None among the wise could say where they came from or whether they had any connection to the kings of old. The spells of preservation, set to preserve the kings, preserved the spirits instead. Only those of great power or wisdom could break them, or take back from them one they had taken to consume.

Young Percy, pale as snow, lay upon the table.  At the far end of the table from where Thorongil and Elerína hid in the shadows stood a Barrow Wight in its full power.  It held a long and twisted knife in one hand, and a bloodstained chalice in the other. Elerína and Thorongil had arrived not a moment too soon, and things then happened very quickly.

"Light, as strong as you can give me, in three seconds," Thorongil whispered.

Elerína slipped off her right glove as Thorongil strode into the circular chamber and drew his sword.  As the spectre looked up to face his new foe, Thorongil knelt so that the creature looked straight at Elerína's outstretched hand.  From it came a flash, as though for an instant a star sat on her palm, and the wight stumbled back, dropping its weapon.

By the time the wight had recovered and retrieved its weapon Thorongil had leapt across the table and stood between the spectre and its prey.  Elerína came quickly to carry the boy to safety as Thorongil and the wight engaged in a furious duel. Elerína carried Percy out of the barrow as sounds of clashing steel and assorted incantations echoed down the exit tunnel.

As soon as they were outside, Elerína set Percy on the ground and knelt over him.  The healers in Bree would have thought him dead, but she was no village herbalist. She placed her hand on his forehead and immediately he awoke, like one startled from a horrible dream.

"Lie still, child," she whispered, "you're safe now."

Percy’s breathing calmed and he rested on the grass as Elerína sat beside him.  She could still hear Thorongil and the wight fighting inside the barrow. After a time he came out of the tunnel, looking a little worse for wear.

"I think we are supposed to carry the treasures of the mound out of the barrow and onto the top of the hill, to prevent the wight from returning," he said.

"Sounds plausible," nodded Elerína.  "That's more your area of expertise."

"Curses and black magic," Thorongil replied, "or manual labor?"

"Both," she said with a smile.  "I'm helping the boy! You can handle it, can't you?"

"Of course, your grace," Thorongil laughed.  Elerína only rolled her eyes.

After twenty minutes or so the contents of the barrow were spread across the mound; swords and shields and jewelry glinting in the moonlight.  Percy was now wide awake, and surprisingly upbeat given his recent brush with death. He marveled at the treasure strewn about.

"Where did all this come from?" he asked.

"The Barrow Downs are tombs for ancient kings of men," explained Thorongil.  "This particular king seems to have been from the First Age, before the Edain came and conquered these lands."

Whether Percy knew enough history to understand any of that answer was unclear, but he seemed satisfied.  He picked up a golden cup and examined it closely.

"Do you think we can take some of this home?" he asked eagerly.

"A little bit, yes," answered Thorongil.  "How much do you remember of what happened tonight?"

"I got lost," said Percy, "and every time I thought I was almost home I saw more hills.  Then the sun went down, and it became very cold. Then it felt like I was being followed, then something grabbed me!"

As the horrors of the night came back to Percy, Elerína embraced him.

"Who are you?" he asked, suddenly realizing he hadn't a clue who had rescued him.

"I'm Elerína, and he is Thorongil," she replied, pointing to her companion who was picking his way through the treasure hoard looking for anything that might be useful.  "Your father came to The Prancing Pony when he couldn't find you on the Downs. We set off at once to try to rescue you."

"Oh, well thank you," smiled Percy.

"Are you done yet?" Elerína yelled.

"Almost," shouted Thorongil from the other side of the hill, still picking through the treasures.  He was already carrying three swords and some jewelry.

"Alright, we should go," he said after another few minutes.  He loaded his saddlebags with his treasure and tied the larger items to his saddle.  Elerína helped young Percy up onto her horse, which could easily carry them both.

It was nearly three in the morning when they rode up to Percy's house.  His parents were overjoyed to see him, and offered Elerína and Thorongil anything and everything they owned as compensation for saving their son.  Elerína kindly refused, and Thorongil left a sizable portion of the treasure he had taken from the barrow with his family.

"After all, little Percy did find the barrow," he laughed.