Apr. 18th, 2007

sillimarilli: (Default)
But everywhere he looked he saw the signs of war. The Misty Mountains were crawling like anthills: orcs were issuing out of a thousand holes.

FOTR: The Breaking of the Fellowship

~oOo~

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~oOo~


I no longer smell the smoke, though I doubt not its acrid scent yet clings to my dress and hair. My very skin bears its traces and I know myself not unmarked.

Ai! Nienna of the Countless Tears, have pity on us, I pray!
Continued here )

February 2008

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