The Barrow-Downs Discussion Forum - View Single Post - Bree (Some years before the War of the Ring)

***Gilthalion*** · 05-11-2001, 05:26 PM

<font face="Verdana"><table><TR><TD><FONT SIZE="1" face="Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif">Hobbitus Emeritus
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Whatever Happened to Tom Ferny?

Tom Ferny called out.

"Halloooooo! Hallooooooo!"

There was no answer. He struck his sixth match (from a box he had "borrowed" from the Prancing Pony. It illuminated a corridor of rough stone. He thought he caught a gleam in the darkness at the end of the long way.

As frightened as he was, he had to check it out. He hurried along, shielding the match until it burnt his fingers. Two matches later, he found the end of his journey.

"Gold!" All fear was now forgotten. Even the chant of the wight and the song of the elf was barely felt. Ferny evaluated what it meant. Calimir had called, but that had been ignored. This too, meant something to the greedy man. Perhaps some little part of him regretted his decision, but he wasted no time with it and his shrewd mind was calculating what was in it for himself.

"They're all busy! And all of this is mine!" Tom's only thought was of how much of the riches he could gather, carry, and take away while the others met their doom. Not the tremor that followed, nor the roar of some great beast after that, made any impression upon him.

His tenth match burned out as he looked upon the hoard of gleaming jewels, fine blades and other items that would fetch a fine price from some of his new connections. He ripped a long strip of rag from a skeletal figure on the slab before him. He borrowed a shin bone and wrapped the rag around one end. His eleventh match broke, and so did the twelveth, as he tried to light the ancient cloth. Tom finally lit it with his thirteenth and final match. Not much of a torch, but it would do.

He clad himself with belts and scabbards, and was soon weighted down with swords and axes and daggers and jewels, and whatever else of value he thought he could carry.

"Pardon me, Yer Majesty," he said, and made another torch from another shin bone and more scraps of what once was a very fine dress.

Just in time, he lit it from the waning fires of his first grisly torch. As he congratulated himself on his ingenuity, a cold wind blew out his torch. His chest was tight with a stabbing pain and sudden dread.

He turned into the freezing wind, and felt its bitter bite clear down to his own bones. He looked up and then froze in horror seeing a form moving slowly toward him that was so dark that it was blacker and deeper than the darkness of the grave he was robbing. Its eyes were fixed upon him with a freezing promise of lifeless damnation.

He screamed in wild and utter terror, completely unmanned and out of his wits as the black spirit of the wight came for him from the Darkness beyond...

</p>Edited by: <A HREF=http://www.barrowdowns.com/cgi-bin/ultimatebb.cgi?ubb=get_profile&u=00000006>Gilthali on</A> at: 5/11/01 7:32:37 pm

05-11-2001, 05:26 PM	#106
*Gilthalion* Hobbitus Emeritus Join Date: Jan 2001 Location: South Farthing Posts: 635	<font face="Verdana"><table><TR><TD><FONT SIZE="1" face="Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif">Hobbitus Emeritus Posts: 398</TD><TD></TD></TR></TABLE> Whatever Happened to Tom Ferny? Tom Ferny called out. "Halloooooo! Hallooooooo!" There was no answer. He struck his sixth match (from a box he had "borrowed" from the Prancing Pony. It illuminated a corridor of rough stone. He thought he caught a gleam in the darkness at the end of the long way. As frightened as he was, he had to check it out. He hurried along, shielding the match until it burnt his fingers. Two matches later, he found the end of his journey. "Gold!" All fear was now forgotten. Even the chant of the wight and the song of the elf was barely felt. Ferny evaluated what it meant. Calimir had called, but that had been ignored. This too, meant something to the greedy man. Perhaps some little part of him regretted his decision, but he wasted no time with it and his shrewd mind was calculating what was in it for himself. "They're all busy! And all of this is mine!" Tom's only thought was of how much of the riches he could gather, carry, and take away while the others met their doom. Not the tremor that followed, nor the roar of some great beast after that, made any impression upon him. His tenth match burned out as he looked upon the hoard of gleaming jewels, fine blades and other items that would fetch a fine price from some of his new connections. He ripped a long strip of rag from a skeletal figure on the slab before him. He borrowed a shin bone and wrapped the rag around one end. His eleventh match broke, and so did the twelveth, as he tried to light the ancient cloth. Tom finally lit it with his thirteenth and final match. Not much of a torch, but it would do. He clad himself with belts and scabbards, and was soon weighted down with swords and axes and daggers and jewels, and whatever else of value he thought he could carry. "Pardon me, Yer Majesty," he said, and made another torch from another shin bone and more scraps of what once was a very fine dress. Just in time, he lit it from the waning fires of his first grisly torch. As he congratulated himself on his ingenuity, a cold wind blew out his torch. His chest was tight with a stabbing pain and sudden dread. He turned into the freezing wind, and felt its bitter bite clear down to his own bones. He looked up and then froze in horror seeing a form moving slowly toward him that was so dark that it was blacker and deeper than the darkness of the grave he was robbing. Its eyes were fixed upon him with a freezing promise of lifeless damnation. He screamed in wild and utter terror, completely unmanned and out of his wits as the black spirit of the wight came for him from the Darkness beyond... </p>Edited by: <A HREF=http://www.barrowdowns.com/cgi-bin/ultimatebb.cgi?ubb=get_profile&u=00000006>Gilthali on</A> at: 5/11/01 7:32:37 pm __________________ Please read my fan fiction novel THE HOBBITS. Wanna hear me read Tolkien? Gilthalion's Grand Adventures!