Title:

Memories, so many memories. Not mine, and yet I almost wish they were. I am unable to forget anything. It is a torment. I remember the Lord's wars from both sides. I remember my actions and thoughts, and I remember the same war from the other side, from the point of view of those despised west-men who came in, pushing us from our ancient lands. The lands that had been ours for ages. It is as though I fought on both sides of the war, both for Him and against Him.

He promised us that we would get our lands back, that he had the power to ensure our victory, that the west-men would run in fear. We believed Him, as He had powers that were more than human, including being able to spread fear around him. We didn't know then who or what He was. Instead, many of us worshiped Him for it. I was one. Now I know that he was a mere servant, enslaved to something even more powerful. The Dark Lord. Despite that knowledge, he is still my Lord.

I believe I did well in the wars. My memories tell me that I was selected for a great reward. There were only a few of us selected. Perhaps fifty at most. Now I wonder if that reward was really a punishment for some great failure, though I can't think of any. The reward was to become what I am now. Lonely. A spirit, but not quite, haunting these noble graves. See, there are the other memories slipping in again. I should say, despised graves. I don't even know what I am. I am a spirit, yet able to become solid in order to kill any who wander into my realm. Those who have met this fate call me a wight. I also am able to do as the Lord did, and spread fear with little more than my presence, even when unseen, though I cannot repeat some of the other feats that we saw him achieve during the wars.

Was the sharing of the memories of those I have killed something our Lord intended? Some torment for me as well? It has certainly become so, especially as the years passed. Those who fought against the Lord had hope, both of victory and of something better, not just fear. I remember that hope, and I almost wish I could have made the choices they did, not trapped in fear and ignorance, remembering many lives not my own.

I snare and kill, both because it is a temporary relief from the memories, though it makes it worse afterwards, and because it is what I was ordered to do by our Lord, so long ago. I hear the call of life near here, and the call to take it is unbearable. Perhaps I can find a way to gain some company this time. Still trapped, still remembering so many other lives, but perhaps not alone. Those short, new beings are so tough, perhaps they can become like me, though none other has.

Also, perhaps I can gain favour from our Lord, maybe a release from torment. For, despite the centuries that have passed, he has recently come back to these regions. I don't know how I know, for I certainly haven't seen him, but I can tell. Barrow Wight Challenge
Author: Endaewen
Rating: G
Disclaimer: Everything in this story belongs to the Tolkien Family.
Summary: From the perspective of the Barrow Wight that Bombadil destroyed.
Notes: Written for one of the Ad Lore Challenges on the LOTR Fanatics Forum.