“Frodo was now safe in the Last Homely House east of the Sea. That house was, as Bilbo had long ago reported, ‘a perfect house, whether you like food or sleep or story-telling or singing, or just sitting and thinking best, or a pleasant mixture of them all’. Merely to be there was a cure for weari-ness, fear, and sadness.“ (The Fellowship of the Ring, p. 293)
If Sauron is defeated, and Aragorn made king and all that you hope for comes true, you will still have to taste the bitterness of mortality. Whether by the sword or the slow decay of time, Aragorn will die. And there will be no comfort for you. No comfort to ease the pain of his passing. He will come to death, an image of the splendour of the kings of men in glory undimmed before the breaking of the world. But you, my daughter, you will linger on in darkness and in doubt, as nightfall in winter that comes without a star. Here you will dwell, bound to your grief, under the fading trees, until all the world is changed and the long years of your life are utterly spent.
Terrifying Tolkien Week, 3/?: T H E B A R R O W D O W N S
The Barrow-downs, or Tyrn Gorthad, was an area of low hills to the east of the Shire and the Old Forest, and west of the village of Bree. They were made by men in the ancient days of the Northern Kingdom. Many of the hills were crowned with monoliths and barrows, whence comes their name. They served as resting places for the men of the north, as well as the Dunedain, until evil spirits that were sent by the Witch-king of Angmar began to inhabit them. [x]
lotr fancast → Hao Yun Xiang
Witch-king of Angmar and
Nazgûl / Ringwraiths
Come not between the Nazgul and his prey! Or he will not slay thee in thy turn. He will bear thee away to the houses of lamentation, beyond all darkness, where thy flesh shall be devoured, and thy shriveled mind be left naked to the Lidless Eye.
Nine he gave to Mortal Men, proud and great, and so ensnared them. Long ago they fell under the domination of the One, and they became Ringwraiths, shadows under his great Shadow, his most terrible servants.
In Rivendell there was memory of ancient things; in Lórien the ancient things still lived on in the waking world. Evil had been seen and heard there, sorrow had been known; the Elves feared and distrusted the world outside: wolves were howling on the wood’s borders: but on the land of Lórien no shadow lay.