I am told that there are legends from long ago about the mystical Book Mountains. They arose when the gods had let their book collecting habits get the better of them, thus resulting in massive mountains of cosmic knowledge in need of organization in the Great Library of the Sky. It seems the mountains are returning…
And in honor of the return of the Book Mountains, I’d like to share one of the great songs of old:
“The Book Mountains Old” by the Dwarves from The Hobbit: Adventures of a Small Librarian (Excerpt)
Far over the book mountains old
To imaginations deep with mold
We must away ere break of day
To seek enchanted shelves of gold.
The dwarves of yore made mighty spells,
While fountains fell like inky bells
In language deep, where dark words sleep,
In hollow covers beneath ink wells.
For ancient kings and elvish lords
There many gloaming golden words
They shaped and wrought, and minds they caught
to hide in gems on pen-like swords.
On silver necklaces they strung
the feathered arms, on crowns they hung
the bookworm’s-soul, in twisted coal
They penned histories of moon and sun…
————————————————–
Dear Tolkien’s Estate: No copyright infringement intended. I’m acting silly. Don’t sue me, please.
Reading Time
Photo: The Book Mountains Old
I am told that there are legends from long ago about the mystical Book Mountains. They arose when the gods had let their book collecting habits get the better of them, thus resulting in massive mountains of cosmic knowledge in need of organization in the Great Library of the Sky. It seems the mountains are returning…
The Hobbit: Adventures of a Small Librarian (Excerpt)
Far over the book mountains old
To imaginations deep with mold
We must away ere break of day
To seek enchanted shelves of gold.
The dwarves of yore made mighty spells,
While fountains fell like inky bells
In language deep, where dark words sleep,
In hollow covers beneath ink wells.
For ancient kings and elvish lords
There many gloaming golden words
They shaped and wrought, and minds they caught
to hide in gems on pen-like swords.
On silver necklaces they strung
the feathered arms, on crowns they hung
the bookworm’s-soul, in twisted coal
They penned histories of moon and sun…
————————————————–
Dear Tolkien’s Estate: No copyright infringement intended. I’m acting silly. Don’t sue me, please.
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