Mountains Marching On
Lord Of The Rings Fan Fiction
By: Bluegrass Elf
Chapter One: The edge of stories
December 20, 1418 Shire reckoning
Disclaimer: I don't own this. Thank you.
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It was night in Rivendell but few had gone to their beds, for Gandalf was telling stories in the Hall of Fire.His audience consisted of five hobbits, a few men such as Aragorn, son of Arathorn and Boromir of Gondor, and many elves. At the moment he was describing the mountains. Merry was listening intently, hanging on to Gandalf's every word. Bilbo watched him for some time, remembering a happy little hobbit lad who had been so enthralled by mountains. A question arose in his mind and, though he had little doubt what the answer was, he asked it.
"Do you still love mountains, lad?"
Merry turned to him, slightly surprised by the question.
"Of course," he said. "I always have. I expect I always will."
Bilbo nodded, knowing this to be true. He was silent for a moment and then spoke up again.
"I remember the first mountain I ever saw," he said, thoughtfully. "It seemed so big to me that I thought it must be the Lonely Mountain. It was actually only the beginning of the Misty Mountains. Couldn't have held a candle to the real Lonely Mountain."
"Mountains," murmured Merry. "They must be wonderful."
"Yes," said Bilbo. "They are."
With that they both returned their attentions to the story, just in time to catch Gandalf's last words on the subject.
"And the mountains march on."
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To Be Continued
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