The wizard waited patiently while I stood there wondering whether to dig deeper in to the poison of the Lonelands. Were it any lesser creature, a simple whiff of the caustic-smelling moss and a realization that further exploration would inevitably deal further with that cesspool would send them back to Bree. The Istari's gaze, and the way he seemed to fill the room with Hope, told me to merely nod at the request.
Maiden and I scouted the Dead that walked in Haragmar, and we (with some of Radagast's help) identified the Wights' species. Radagast called the particular Wights in Haragmar the Bile-Spewers. Most were fully armed and armored, and some of even had ranged weapons. The older Wights had become bloated, and they seemed like they were ready to pop open with puss and disease. The latter seemed also to lack the more human intelligence. Luckily for us, one stood not a hundred meters away while we hacked away at one of its Dead brothers.
The most evil of the Haragmar Wights were indeed the Deadly Bile-Spewers. Similarly to the Ancient ones, these Wights chose to go unarmored and simply used their vile magics against Maiden and me. They seemed to call forth the poison of the swamp through their lungs. The unworldly roar sounded like the dark language, and my heart grew dreadful until the Dead was vanquished. The world grows so heavy and dark, and I am grateful that Maiden is always with me. I dare not tell her these words, though. I will never hear the end of it.