"Not paying attention during training and suffering for it in a real fight, that's exactly what I'm talking about with you two."
The two trainee Rangers stared straight ahead, saying nothing.
"Next time you encounter a creature like that barrow-wight again, remember, if your party has fewer than five people, don't act rashly. Seek reinforcements from nearby patrols first."
"Understood," the two replied.
"Good."
Halbarad nodded, as if forgiving their recklessness.
He continued, "If I'm not mistaken, you're heading to the Ranger outpost at South Downs to report in, correct?"
"Yes, sir."
"Excellent. I'm headed back there as well. Follow me."
"Please wait a moment."
Just as Halbarad turned to lead the way, one of them spoke, "Could you give us a moment? There's still something we need to see to."
"What is it?"
"It's about a child in the village."
---
In the pitch-dark village, only one house still had its lights burning. Inside, a hunched figure paced back and forth, sometimes going to the bed to check on the patient, sometimes peering out the door.
Finally, just as the candle on the stand was about to burn out again, three figures approached through the rain.
Two were the familiar Rangers; the other was a stranger, leaving no strong impression.
"This is our instructor."
The moment they stepped inside, the two made introductions.
"Instructor?"
"Yes. The one who teaches us our skills and trains us in the craft."
"That creature from earlier? We dealt with it alongside him. Don't worry, it won't be troubling Pete again."
The old man's face lit up with joy.
"That's wonderful! I knew it, you all had the look of capable warriors. That monster wouldn't have gotten the better of you."
At those words, the two Rangers' expressions grew somewhat awkward. Halbarad gave them a sidelong glance but maintained his usual silence.
"Thank you, truly. Thank you all."
The old man bowed, then turned toward the house and called out, "Phil, bring out some fresh towels for our guests! Make sure they're clean!"
"Have you eaten yet tonight? There's still fresh meat and vegetables in the larder, and a few bottles of wine I've been saving..."
"No need," one of them replied. "We just wanted to check on Pete."
"If he's already recovering, we're pressed for time to reach our destination."
"Of course," the old man said, and led them to Pete's bedside.
The poor child still lay unconscious, but he looked much better than before, no longer in such dire condition.
"There are still some lingering effects, but nothing life-threatening."
Halbarad crouched down to examine him, then pulled out the athelas he had gathered earlier and handed it to the old man.
"Dry this herb, then steep it in hot water. Its scent will drive away the lingering corruption clinging to the child."
"I understand."
The old man carefully put away the athelas as though it were a priceless treasure, even though it wasn't especially rare.
With the matter settled, the three donned their cloaks and pulled up their hoods, heading southeast through the heavy rain.
---
"This is strange," one of the trainee Rangers said along the way. "Why would a barrow-wight actively attack a village? If they all behaved like that, the whole of Bree-land would have been abandoned ages ago."
"Who can say," the other muttered.
"This village's location isn't ideal," Halbarad, who had been silent until now, spoke.
"It's positioned between the Barrow-downs and South Downs. For a barrow-wight to appear here is... not entirely unexpected."
Or was it?
Not exactly.
After that brief explanation to the two, he fell silent again, offering no further details.
It truly wasn't normal.
For decades, most barrow-wights had remained confined to the Barrow-downs, rarely venturing near human settlements, at most wandering into the Old Forest.
And when they did, they were promptly driven out by the mysterious presence dwelling there.
Under normal circumstances, barrow-wights only move within their own territory, unless something compels them.
Compelled...
They were summoned by the Witch-king's dark sorcery. Normally, only the Witch-king or the other Nazgûl could directly command them.
This was something worth noting.
The road from the village to the nearest South Downs outpost wasn't far. Before long, the three of them were standing beneath a tree that wasn't particularly tall.
Creaaak.
A concealed panel opened, revealing a passage leading downward.
With Halbarad taking the lead, the three climbed down one after another.
"Impressive..."
The two trainee Rangers let out quiet exclamations of appreciation.
A square chamber, with Wayfort-style support pillars, warm glowstone lighting, and various familiar facilities.
"It's just like being back home."
"So these are the two late arrivals?"
The moment they touched down, a Ranger approached.
"Yes, sir!"
Looking somewhat disheveled, the two young men straightened up at once and called out clearly:
"Trainee Rangers from Wayfort, reporting for duty!"
"Plenty of spirit, but you don't look particularly healthy," the Ranger observed. "Normally, I'd have to discipline you for arriving late, but the weather's always unpredictable, so the fault isn't yours. I'll overlook it this time."
As he spoke, his brow furrowed slightly.
"You appear injured. What happened?"
"They were wounded by a barrow-wight," Halbarad explained.
"A barrow-wight..."
The Ranger repeated the words, his demeanor shifting. "I'm just glad you made it back in one piece, lads. But in your condition, you won't be able to join the next operation."
"Go rest. A week from now, we have a strike planned against the orc war-bands. I hope I'll see you there."
"Yes!"
Having given his orders, the Ranger departed.
The two trainees relaxed somewhat.
Halbarad pointed in a direction. "You can rest on the bunks over there. There's water and some wine from Wayfort, though I don't recommend drinking much, it won't help your injuries at all."
"Go on, get proper rest. Gather your strength for the battles ahead. I'd hate for Garrett to return and find we've lost two Rangers on a training mission, especially since you're part of the first company. If that really happened, knowing him, he might just cut his way from South Downs all the way to the White Mountains."
Looking at the two reckless newcomers, he couldn't help but sigh.
These two lads were much like their lord, charging into trouble without a thought for caution or consequence, simply because something seemed wrong.
Unfortunately, they had their lord's temperament without his strength.
These foolish saplings would need some careful guidance, so they didn't start growing in dangerous directions.
After leaving them with those final instructions, he was just about to go handle his own business when two pairs of curious eyes blocked his path.
"Are you close with our lord?"
"Close enough, I suppose. Why do you ask?"
"We're just curious. We haven't seen him for months now. Could you tell us where he went?"
Sigh.
Just thinking about Garrett's whereabouts made Halbarad let out another sigh.
That fellow... every time he departed, he'd give a quick word and then vanish, gone as soon as he decided to leave.
Most people had no idea what he was even doing.
Couldn't he learn from other lords? Hold a council before leaving, explain his plans and timeline, arrange his affairs properly, perhaps take along a few attendants...
...Forget it. He probably wouldn't do that in this lifetime.
Still, people in the territory had grown accustomed to his sudden departures.
As for why, well, the only explanation was, "He's Garrett. He does whatever he deems necessary."
Garrett's itinerary wasn't exactly a secret.
Of course, if a stranger had asked, he would have detained him and questioned his motives. But Wayfort's young Rangers could be trusted.
With a hint of complaint in his voice, he said:
"He claimed the territory couldn't go without something called 'watermelon,' dumped a pile of responsibilities on me, and headed south. That includes your training, by the way."
"Hopefully he'll return soon, otherwise, the completion date for that mountain road will be pushed back even further."
"Everyone's waiting for him."