Well, Elgee, since we’re not told what the origin of the
barrow-wights is as far as I know, one theory is as good as another as long as its proponents can marshal the requisite argument.
Faramir seems to suggest that Black Arts were being practiced by
Númenóreans in
Middle-earth; certainly the
Black Númenóreans were doing this, but perhaps this was being done in some parts of
Arnor, too. In that case, we might presume that these
evil practices led to the barrow-wights. I rather prefer the explanation that they are
elvish “ghosts,” the “houseless ones” referred to in
HoME in
Morgoth’s Ring, “Laws and Customs among the Eldar,” “Of Re-Birth and Other Dooms of Those That Go to
Mandos,” against whom there is both warning and prohibition in dealing:
But it would seem that in these after-days more and more of the
Elves, be they of the Eldalië in origin or be they of other kinds, who linger in Middle-earth now refuse the summons of Mandos, and wander houseless in the world, unwilling to leave it and unable to inhabit it... Not all of these are kindly or unstained by the Shadow. Indeed the refusal of the summons is in itself a sign of taint.
It is therefore a foolish and perilous thing, besides being a wrong deed forbidden justly by the appointed Rulers of
Arda, if the Living seek to commune with the Unbodied, though the houseless may desire it, especially the most unworthy among them. For the Unbodied, wandering in the world, are those who at the least have refused the door of life and remain in regret and self-pity. Some are filled with bitterness, grievance, and envy. Some were enslaved by the
Dark Lord and do his work still, though he himself is gone. They will not speak truth or wisdom. To call on them is folly. To attempt to master them and to make them servants of one own's [
sic; probably a misprint for
one’s own] will is wickedness. Such practices are of Morgoth; and the necromancers are of the host of
Sauron his servant.
Some say that the Houseless desire bodies, though they are not willing to seek them lawfully by submission to the judgement [
sic] of Mandos. The wicked among them will take bodies, if they can, unlawfully. The peril of communing with them is, therefore, not only the peril of being deluded by fantasies or lies: there is peril also of destruction. For one of the hungry Houseless, if it is admitted to the friendship of the Living, may seek to eject the
fëa from its body; and in the contest for mastery the body may be gravely injured, even if it be not wrested from its rightful habitant. Or the Houseless may plead for shelter, and if it is admitted, then it will seek to enslave its host and use both his will and his body for its own purposes. It is said that Sauron did these things, and taught his followers how to achieve them.
This is not a precise description of a barrow-wight; but besides being rather frightening in itself, it is not far from what might constitute a barrow-wight, assuming that what was interred in the barrow could be reanimated by necromancy on the part of the
Witch-king and his minions acting on behalf of and probably with the instruction of Sauron the Necromancer.
This is a particularly gruesome subject, and if you don’t mind, I’ll leave it at that. The only other thing I can add is that this was not originally my observation, but that of
Alvin Eriol at SF-Fandom. I think it is well- considered, and while
Tolkien left us no clear direction on what a barrow-wight might be, perhaps there is an echo of it in “The Passing of
the Grey Company” in
RotK:
…
Éowyn stood still as a figure carven in stone, her hands clenched at her sides, and she watched them until they passed into
the shadows under the black Dwimorberg, the Haunted Mountain, in which was the Door of the Dead. When they were lost to view, she turned, stumbling as one that is blind, and went back to her lodging. But none of her folk saw this parting, for they hid themselves in fear and would not come forth until the day was up, and the reckless strangers were gone.
And some said: ‘They are Elvish wights. Let them go where they belong, into the dark
places, and never return. The times are evil enough.’
The
Rohirrim had once lived on the eastern borders of
Angmar, while Arnor was on its western border; perhaps they recalled some dark memory from their old home in the northern Vales of
Anduin; or perhaps they simply considered all Elves suspicious, and hence “wights.”
“
Wight” is in its origins an Anglo-Saxon word meaning “person.” (Middle English “
wight” from Old English “
wiht”, from the Germanic root “
*wihti-”, a thing or creature. Related to the modern English words “
whit” (as in, “I don’t care a whit…”), “
aught”, “
naught”, and even “
not”.
In
Othello, Act ii Scene 1, Shakespeare has Iago describe a woman as a “wight”,
She was a wight, if ever such wight were …
To suckle fools and chronicle small beer.
E. Cobham Brewer describes the usage as meaning, “To note down
events of no importance whatsoever.” But in this context, “wight” may simply mean a miserable person or someone of little or no account.
Edmund Spenser, Shakespeare’s contemporary, uses the word more generously but perhaps already archaically in the late 16th century in “The Shepheardes Calender”:
Of fayre Elisa be your silver song,
That blessed wight:
The flowre of virgins, may shee florish long
In princely plight.
Shakespeare uses it contemptuously again in
The Merry Wives of Windsor, Act I, Scene 3, in a scene with Falstaff, Bardolph, Nym, Pistol, and Robin:
Falstaff. Bardolph, follow him. A tapster is a good trade: an old cloak makes a new jerkin; a withered serving-man, a fresh tapster. Go; adieu.
Bardolph. It is a life that I have desired. I will thrive.
Pistol. O base Hungarian wight! wilt thou the spigot wield? [Exit BARDOLPH.
The German version of the word, “
Wicht”, has a series of bad connotations. “
armer Wicht” means (more or less) “poor sucker”, while “
elender Wicht” translates as “miserable wretch” and a “
feiger Wicht” is a coward. “
Wicht” by itself might mean, depending upon its context, a midget, a fairy, or a gnome.
And thus with minimal encouragement have I chronicled small beer, wight that I am, though no barrow do I yet inhabit.
I think, brookhollow, that Elgee’s description as “ghosts who haunt tombs” is, in retrospect, clear enough.
