I returned to the wizard a few days later. My bath-given cleanliness had since worn off with the stench of wargs and goblins. Radagast stood up from his study, and told me that far too many wights were abound in Haragmar to be just the play of evil spirits from Angmar. The necromantic gaunt-men were behind this. I had heard rumors of their sightings east of Ost Guruth, but from afar they seemed has hollow as the wights they created, easily mistaken. From an Istari, the presence of the gaunt-men coven was truth. Radagast needed their sigils so that we would know what vile sect of the necromancers we were up against.
Our journey through the swamp of Haragmar towards the evil ruins of Nan Dhelu was swift. The denizens of the swamp, natural and unnatural, gave our fellowship wide berth. Any that crossed our path would be swiftly deal with.
Outside Nan Dhelu, I saw a gaunt-man watching our approach. It was likely a rare occurence that any adventurer came close to their wretched haven, but once I pointed the foul creature to my companions, Moondog and Targimoth's reactions were severe. The gaunt-man was felled before I could command Maiden to herald us forth, however, I heard the crawk of a nearby craben and knew the coven of gaunt-men would be expecting our venture.
At the topmost point of Nan Dhelu was a temple where the gaunt-men were hiding. With our approach, it seemed they had packed many of the valuables and holed up with a few chests where they hoped we would not find them. I am grateful for Moondog's songs of courage, for little if any dread filled my heart, and any doubt I had for our victory was quickly silenced with the screaming arrows of Targimoth. The gaunt-men came at us in wave with their wights. And they died. And they died.
They waited outside while I briefly met with Radagast. He immediately identified the sigils as being beholden to Iver the Bloodhand. The wizard, as always, had more questions, and I told him I would return to him further after our critical strike into Garth Agarwen.