But great writers like Tolkien were able to look at life, including the passing of ages in "Thousand Year Circles." He was able to interpret things with a better perspective; as more of a"Big Picture," and see "The Light at the End of the Tunnel." That being said, this is an except taken from J.R.R. Tolkien and retold by myself.
The War of the Ring is beginning. While the soldiers of Gondor prepare for battle and the evil Lord Sauron darkens the sky with a cloud of shadow and smoke, Frodo Baggins, accompanied by his servant Samwise and their unwelcome ally Gollum, must carry the dreaded One Ring of Power into Sauron's Kingdom, the Land of Mordor.
Only there can it be destroyed, and so bring about the destruction of the dark master. The three travelers have reached the borders of Sauron's country, and are seeking a way through the mountains.
For about an hour they went on, silently, in single file, oppressed by the gloom and by the absolute stillness of the land, broken only now and again by the faint rumblings of thunder far away or drum beats in some hollow of the hills.
Down from their hiding place they went, and then turning south they steered as straight a course as Gollum could find across a long broken slope that leaned up towards the mountains. Presently, not far ahead , looming up like a black wall, they saw a belt of trees.
As they drew nearer they became aware that these were of vast size, very ancient it seemed, and still towering high, though their tops were gaunt and broken, as if tempest and lightening-blast had swept across them, but had failed to kill them or to shake their fathomless roots.
"The Crossroads, yes," whispered Gollum, the first words that had been spoken since they left their hiding place. "We must go that way." Turning eastward now, he led them up the slope; and then suddenly there it was before them: the Southward Road, winding it's way about the outer feet of the mountains, until presently it plunged into the great ring of trees.
"This is the only way," whispered Gollum. "No paths beyond the road. No Paths. We must go to the Crossroads. But make haste! Be silent!"
As furtively as scouts within the encampment of their enemies, they crept down onto the road, and stole along it's westward edge under the stony bank, grey as stones themselves and soft- footed as hunting cats.
At length they reached the trees, and found that they stood in a great roofless ring, open in the middle to the somber sky; and the spaces between their immense boles were like the great dark arches of some ruined hall. In the very center four ways met.
Behind them lay the road to the Morannon; before them it ran out again upon it's long journey south; to their right the road form Osgliath came climbing up, and crossing, passed out eastward into darkness: the fourth way, the road they were to take.
Standing there for a moment filled with dread Frodo became aware that a light was shining; he saw it glowing on Sam's face beside him. Turning towards it, he saw, beyond an arch of boughs, the road to Osgliath running almost as straight as a stretched ribbon down, into the West.
There, far away, beyond sad Gondor now overwhelmed in shade, the Sun was sinking, finding at last the hem of the great slow-moving pall of cloud, and falling in the ominous fire towards the yet unsullied Sea. The brief glow fell upon a huge sitting figure, still and solemn as the great stone kings of Argonath.
The years had gnawed it, and violent hands had maimed it. It's head was gone, and in it's place was set in mockery a round rough-hewn stone, rudely painted by savage hands in the likeness of a grinning face with one large red eye in the midst of it's forehead.
Upon it's knees and mighty chair, and all about the pedestal, were idle scrawls mixed with the foul symbols that the maggot-folk of Mordor used.
Suddenly, caught by the level beams, Frodo saw the king's head: it was lying rolled away by the roadside. "Look, Sam!" he cried, startled into speech. "Look!" The King has got a crown again!"
The eyes were hollow and the carven beard was broken, but about the high stern forehead there was a coronal of silver and gold. A trailing plant with flowers like small white stars had bound itself across the brows as if in reverence for the fallen king, and in the crevices of his stony hair yellow stonecrop gleamed.
"They cannot conquer forever!" said Frodo. And then suddenly the brief glimpse was gone. The Sun dipped and vanished, and as if at the shuttering of lamp, black night fell.
Brightest of Blessings,
Lory
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