Takes place on the return journey from Minas Tirith ('Reunion in Minas Tirith').

Winterfilth 1429

The Feast of the Dead was celebrated in most lands, and Rohan was no exception. The hobbits, Gimli, Legolas, Lord Celeborn and the Twins were all sitting in the Golden Hall. The torches had all been snuffed, leaving only the light from the great central hearth. A page re-filled their cups with spiced mead and Eomer began to tell the tale of the Phantom Rider, who was sometimes encountered on the plains of the Westfold. He never spoke and normally did not seek encounters with the living, but occasionally some unfortunates among Rohan's enemies had seen him at close quarters, with dire consequences.

       "It is said that he will never show his face to a friend of Rohan, but those who have seen him say that beneath his helmet his eyes are blank sockets and his face a grinning skull."

       Rose shivered. "I'll wager that orcs didn't hang around if he put in an appearance?"

       "Indeed they did not. To see him means death within the year, although many have heard the hoofbeats and lived to tell the tale."

       "In Dol Amroth there is a haunted house which has been empty for over a hundred years. People tried to live in it but only stayed a day or two before being driven out." Lothiriel smiled. "My brother and I wanted to creep in and see what it looked like inside, but our nurse was too strict and would not allow us to explore."

       "Did you ever find out what lay behind the haunting?" asked Merry.

       "A woman was murdered there. She had been buried under the floor. It was said she wandered at night, looking for the children her husband had taken from her."

       Eomer helped himself to another of Rose's beef and onion tarts. "What do you call this festival in the Shire?"

       "It is called Samhain but part of it is called the Fright Festival, when children go 'guising' and we hollow out turnip lanterns."

       "Or pumpkins," Pippin pointed out.

       Frodo sniffed. "Pumpkins are a new-fangled introduction. It was always turnip lanterns in the Shire."

       "Frodo's a great one for tradition," Merry explained.

       "Do you remember that empty cottage near Bindbole Wood, Fro?" Pippin asked. "The one which looked as though it was gradually falling back into the earth? You took us camping near there once but you wouldn't tell us the story."

       "I didn't want to frighten you. Bilbo told me about it and it gave me the horrors although I was over thirty by then." Frodo sipped his mead and remembered the details of the tale. "At the time that these events occurred, Balbo Baggins was the Mayor and he said more in the family papers than he did in the official report. Apparently a couple lived there. The husband was rather like Ted Sandyman, brutal and unpleasant. The wife longed for children but every one she had died. One was lost to lung fever, another caught the crimson fever, a third was a case of crib death........... One day the husband disappeared and folk thought he'd upped and left. The wife was seen sometimes by those living nearby, but she rarely spoke and never invited anyone in. After a year or so the neighbours realised they had not seen her for a few days. They called and knocked but there was no answer."

       The Meduseld was hushed as everyone tensed, waiting to hear what was found.

       "Finally someone forced the door and they went in. The wife was sitting at the table, dead as a doornail, with the remains of a dish of poisonous mushrooms in front of her. Those who investigated further were horrified to find the corpse of her husband, dry and mummified, sitting up in the bed. In the other room they found the bodies of all the children lying side by side in their bed. There had been several disturbances in the local burial ground over the years and they realised she must have been in there, digging up her children and taking them home. Balbo said there was evidence that she'd poisoned the husband with death cap mushrooms."

       "That's horrible!" Sam murmured. "No wonder the place had such a reputation."

       "Poor lass," said Rose. "Losing every child must have driven her quite out of her mind I should think." The others nodded in agreement.

       "One ghost I'd love to meet is Bandobras Took," said Pip. "He's a hero of mine and someone I would like to talk to."

       "I daresay you'll have your chance one day," said Sam. "Who would we all like to meet if we could meet anyone? Living or dead."

       "Family and loved ones go without saying, added Merry.

       Eomer thought about it. "Helm Hammerhand. And Eorl of course."

       "I'd like to meet King Theoden," said Frodo, earning a beaming smile from Merry and Eomer. "What about you, Sam?"

       "Holman the Greenhanded," said Sam promptly.

       Rose frowned in concentration. "I'd love to see the Lady Galadriel - and Luthien, to see if she did look just like Lady Arwen. Oh! And I'd like a few words with that Denethor. The way he treated poor Faramir was dreadful! He should be ashamed of himself, treating his own son so harshly."

       "Ooops! Denethor should look out. He's going to be on the receiving end of the tea towel!" cried Pip. "What would you say to Denethor, Fro?"

       Frodo puffed on his pipe and pursed his lips. "Hmmm. How about 'Hello. I'm the witless halfling who took the Ring to Mount Doom!'"

       Merry sprayed mead in all directions and laughed. Even the Elves were amused. "I told you he wouldn't be happy about 'witless', Pip!"

       "Of course I realise I was not likely to win the Hobbiton and Bywater Sanest Citizen Award by the time I reached the mountain, but witless?! Really!"

       "Ah yes, but don't forget that when he said that, Denethor was only acquainted with one hobbbit - and that was Pip," Merry pointed out helpfully.

       "True. I'd forgotten that. A very good point, Merry-mine."

       "Hey! Sam, I'm being insulted here."

       Sam grinned. "I didn't hear any insults. Just heard Merry stating a fact, that's all."

       "Denethor was always readier to insult than to praise," Eomer agreed.

       "What about Elves and Dwarves? Do you have a similar feast to ours?" Pip asked the Twins and Gimli..

       "We do indeed pay tribute to those who dwell in the Halls of Mandos."

       "We remember those in Aule's care, laddie."

       "One of the stories which always scared me was when Bilbo told me about the houseless ones who try and take over a body." Frodo shuddered slightly.

       "And what about the Barrow-downs?" Merry added. "That was terrifying."

       "Indeed. There are many mysteries in Arda, and many terrors," said Legolas.

       "But there are gentle spirits too," Eomer reminded them. "It is said that the benevolent spirit of my aunt Elfhild walks this hall every night. A cloak spread over a chair will be folded in the morning, an overturned goblet righted, an ale flask re-corked. Even the hounds do not fear her."

       "She sounds a sweet lady and I'm sure none of us would be afraid if we met her," said Rose as they made their way to bed.

                                                                          ************

       In the darkened hall the hounds slumbered near the fire. Lothiriel's shawl, left in a heap on the floor, was folded and draped over the arm of her chair. Only the wakeful tabby cat watched as cups were set straight on the tables and a dangling tapestry needle was deftly and safely tucked into the fabric. His eyes narrowed as he followed the unseen presence as it flitted about the Golden Hall.

       One other had tip-toed from his bed to see if Eomer's tale was true. He stood in the doorway, silent as only a hobbit could be..

        "Good-night, gentle lady," murmured Frodo Baggins.

        A soft hand brushed his hair and he thought he felt a kiss, light as thistledown upon his brow.