After many days and nights spent in the house of Tom Bombadil, Fenrohir and Meruwen decided at last to continue on their journey. They would not this time, however, attempt the perilous way through the Old Forest; Tom and Goldberry advised them to travel northwest and make for the Road as it passed just nigh the Downs. With heavy heart, they prepared to take their leave, knowing they would never again meet a couple as fair and welcoming as Tom and his lady.
Goldberry fairly wept as Fenrohir embraced her one last time, his hands cupping her infamous buttocks. "Think of me, my lady, in my absence," he said softly. "Perhaps I shall pass this way once more upon my return."
Goldberry buried her face in Fenrohir's muscled chest, sighing softly. "You will be sorely missed, I fear. But you have given us a kingly gift: Tom and I will once more be as newlyweds, thinking of you each time we embrace."
Beside them, Tom was caressing Meruwen's long locks, still damp from her morning bath. The dark tresses fell curling about her breasts; Tom stroked them as well. "I shall miss these," he sighed, stroking the curve of her full tit through the thin cotton blouse. She knew he was thinking without much joy of Goldberry's tiny breasts. Closing her hand over his own, she smiled bravely up at him. "Mourn as little as you may at my passing, dear Tom. You know well I could not long be parted from you." With that, the two companions set out from the door, shouldering their packs for the long march ahead of them.
The land rose steeply behind Tom's house, leading up to the hills of the great Downs. There were fireside tales enough in Bree of these lands to frighten even the bravest of travelers, but Tom and Goldberry had given them wise (and, on this occasion, honest) instructions to avoid an encounter with any perilous Barrow-Wights. These the two companions reviewed dutifully as they tramped through the green countryside.
The day was growing hot. Fenrohir had adopted Tom's custom of going about without a shirt; Tom had lent him trousers and a pair of well-worn leather boots to replace those he had lost beside the willow tree. Meruwen had borrowed from Goldberry the thin cotton shirt, as well as a short cotton skirt that fell only to mid-thigh. She wore also a pair of leather boots that rose up to her knee.
Yet even with such light clothing, the two quickly found themselves overheated. As they crested one of the hills, they came upon a white standing stone. It was cool to the touch, and they eagerly sat down beside it to rest. After their noon-day meal, the exhausted travelers soon drifted off into a warm, pleasant sleep.
---
Fenrohir awoke with a start. Black night had fallen, or else they had somehow been transported indoors, for no light was to be seen. The air was chill, but no wind blew. At last, Fenrohir deduced he was indeed within a chamber, and he lay upon a cold stone table. He found himself bound tightly to it, naked, unable to move much of anything.
"Meruwen?" he called softly. A sudden clanking of chains startled him; he peered desperately into the gloom. "Where are you?"
"Here I am," she cried, her voice shaking with fright. "We must have stumbled somehow into a Barrow!"
Fenrohir nodded his silent assent. "I cannot move to help you--are you bound as well?"
"Yes," she said, and Fenrohir thought he could hear her weeping softly in the dark.
Suddenly an eerie green light began to rise seemingly from the very floor of the chamber. As the light grew stronger, Fenrohir could make out the figure of his companion. Meruwen stood ten feet from the table upon which he lay. Her wrists were secured above her head in manacles suspended from a ceiling still lost in darkness; her ankles, spread far apart, were shackled to the floor. Her clothing had been removed, but around her neck she wore many gold chains that hung between her large tits; bracelets and rings of gold were on her wrists and fingers. In her hair, many combs and barretts glinted in the growing light.
Suddenly Fenrohir heard a heavy footstep on the stone floor of the chamber. Turning, he found himself facing the apparition of a man. He was evidently a king or lord of sorts, for he wore a fair gold circlet upon his head. He was clad in rich robes, yet Fenrohir could not be sure of this, for as he watched, they seemed to waver and vanish, leaving him naked. His arms and chest were tight with corded muscles which rippled as he moved; a massive cock jutted out from his pelvis. Though Fenrohir could see the man quite plainly, he found he could also see the stone wall behind the faintly glowing body.
The man turned first to Fenrohir. "Welcome to my Barrow, man of Bree," he said in a great booming voice that seemed to issue not from his mouth but out of the very ground. "I have been waiting for you."
Fenrohir found he could not speak. Here was a Barrow-Wight; his eyes were cold and terrible. As the Wight turned to face Meruwen, Fenrohir thought he saw a long, rich cloak swirl about him, yet his eyes must have once more deceived him: the man was naked. Though the Wight stood between himself and Meruwen, Fenrohir could still make out her lovely figure.
