. . . And as the Captains gazed south to the Land of Mordor, it seemed to them that, black against the pall of cloud, there rose a huge shape of shadow, impenetrable, lightning-crowned, filling all the sky. Enormous it reared above the world, and stretched out towards them a vast threatening hand, terrible but impotent: for even as it leaned over them, a great wind took it, and it was all blown away, and passed; and then a hush fell.
~ RotK; “The Field of Cormallen”
In the wee hours of the night, 2 a.m., after work and looking north, not south from my back yard, while the dog does his business – there is the giant smoke stack of the paper/plywood mill that looms in the near distance above my tall wooden fence. At its top is a blinking light to warn off low flying aircraft, and from its mouth belches a continuous massive pillar of steam and smoke. Ominous and threatening it appears as it emerges; but the top streamer is fragmented in the night breezes.
An army of frogs, inhabitants of our small pond, is loud in the darkness . . . hushing immediately at the arrival of myself and dog.
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Eldest, that’s what I am . . . I knew the dark under the stars when it was fearless - before the Dark Lord came from Outside.
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