Fellowship of the Ring - Drabbled, The
8. Fog on the Barrow Downs
Farewell to Tom and his lady in silver-green. Across green hills to Bree, hobbit’s ponies march in lines. Sun grows hot, time for food. The pillar warns, but they take no heed, and lie too long in soft green grass.
Fog draws close. They ride on, in search of an elusive stone gate. In the sea of fog Merry and Pippin are lost, and Frodo thrown. He searches, but the wight finds him first. Cold be heart and hand and bone, and friends are turned like stone. Courage is found, Old Tom comes a-singing, farewell old wight, be no more!
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