[The Barrow-Wight]

Orogarn Two stood with eyes closed and one hand clasped tightly around the mysterious crystal hanging on its golden chain. Sweat beaded on his forehead and his face contorted as if he was battling with forces unseen. His breathing quickened to a frantic pace, loud as a frightened Múmak, and then suddenly stopped. His hold on the magic stone faltered, his hands went desperately to his throat, and he collapsed to the ground unable to breathe.

Kuruharan scrambled forward and immediately dumped the contents of a large black bag (marked M.D. for “Marketing Dwarf”) onto the ground beside the fallen Grundorian. Bottles, cans, vials, and flasks of all sizes scattered on the leafy floor of Workmud, each labeled with explicit instruction of how and by whom their contents were to be consumed. The Dwarf searched frenetically through the medicinal pile until he located a short, cylindrical container made of a strange, opaque orange materiel. He pressed-and-twisted its white lid and poured two small white pellets into his hand.

“Here,” he handed the pellets to Merisuwyniel. “Shove these down his throat. They’ll start him breathing again.”

The lovely elf looked down at Orogarn Two, whose eyes were bulging slightly and whose complexion was starting to blue.

“I’m not a doctor,” she said. “Vogonwe, you know him better than I do. You do it.”

“Oh no, dear lady,” said the poet, already composing in his head a rhyming reason for not assisting. “Perhaps the petite Pimpi is more suited to such ministrations. My bedside manner is lacking when it lacks a bed.”

The half-halfling looked up from where she sat nibbling an odd-shaped mushroom she had discovered growing in hollow, rotten log. “Nck thhnk yugh,” she said with her mouth very full.

Orogarn Two’s eye rolled up into his head and his body began to convulse violently.

“Oh, for the love of all that is holy in this most unholy of unholy lands!” shouted The Lord Etceteron in an unnecessary repeated use of the words ‘holy’ and ‘unholy’. “I’ll do it!

He strode forward, grabbed the pills from Merisuwyniel’s hand, and shoved them forcefully into Orogarn Two’s gaping maw. Unable to breathe, the aristocrat from Minus Teeth was also unable to swallow, and Earnur was forced to assist the pellet’s intake by adding a dollup from his ever-smoking flask. The potent potable pushed the medicine inward faster than Liquid Plummer pushes hair through a clogged drain, and the Lord of Grundor suddenly took in a huge, gasping breath.

He then uncontrollably regurgitated the entire contents of his stomach onto the forest floor, retching wildly for several moments, spewing his guts, and causing the gathered adventurers to fight sudden waves of nausea. Soon, everyone but Pimpi, who’s stomach was unassailable, was groaning as they unwilling participated in a group puke-fest. At last, Orogran Two’s stomach stopped heaving, and one by one his companions regained control of themselves. Everyone quickly moved several yards away (and upwind) from the site of the pungent event.

“What was that?” shouted Earnur, trying desperately to wash the awful vomit flavor away by pouring Strangreek’s directly into his mouth and swishing it around. “What caused you choke, Orogarn?”

“Two,” answered the speedily recovering Grundorian. “It’s Orogarn Two, Lord Eteceteron.”

“Yes, yes, of course. Apologies. Tell us what you saw with your crystal.”

“I saw our comrade, Halfullion, trapped in Gol Dulldor and surrounded by effeminate Uruks.”

“Ewwwww,” said the party in unison.

“I saw an unknown Elf maiden and a legless Uruk engaged in amorous activities.”

“Eeeeewwwwww!”

“I saw a half-starved half-halfing standing alone and foodless.”

“Oh no!” Pimpiowyn rushed forward with a mushroom in her hand. “What were these visions? Are they visions of the future.”

“I don’t know,” answered Orogarn Two. “The crystal shows things that may or may not be.

“Then what use is it?” asked Chrysophylax.

“It has it’s uses, dragon,” said Orogarn Two angrily, raising his hand to his crystal and walking toward the huge creature.

“You’re not going to puke again, are you?” asked Kuruharan, jumping between the Grundorian and the dragon.

“Stop it!” shouted Merisuwyniel. “There’s no time for bickering. Do you hear that?”