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A baroque man who wishes he was a classical man

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Altar of Consul Domitius Ahenobarbus (a.k.a Census frieze)

Sacrifice scene during the census is depicted the relief. 2nd century BCE, Campus Martius, Rome. Currently at Louvre.

© Marie-Lan Nguyen / Wikimedia Commons , Louvre Museum / Public domain

Moria by Alan Lee

The world is grey, the mountains old, The forge’s fire is ashen-cold; No harp is wrung, no hammer falls: The darkness dwells in Durin’s halls; The shadow lies upon his tomb In Moria, in Khazad-dûm. But still the sunken stars appear In dark and windless Mirrormere; There lies his crown in water deep, Till Durin wakes again from sleep. The Song of Durin 

The Road to Rivendell by Joe Gilronan

As the sun sets low over the misty mountains, the companions make camp. Frodo wounded, sits crouched by the fire; Merry, Pippin and Strider watch on with concern, while Sam busies himself attending Bill the pony. Unnoticed on the distant bridge, a black rider observes the scene with malice, eager to report back to his fellow pursuers.