The Return of the King by J. R. R. Tolkien

finger of doom.
    ‘My blood runs chill,’ said Gimli, but the others were silent, and his voice fell dead on the dank fir-needles at his feet.
The horses would not pass the threatening stone, until the riders dismounted and led them about. And so they came at last
deep into the glen; and there stood a sheer wall of rock, and in the wall the Dark Door gaped before them like the mouth of
night. Signs and figures were carved above its wide arch too dim to read, and fear flowed from it like a grey vapour.
    The Company halted, and there was not a heart among them that did not quail, unless it were the heart of Legolas of the Elves,
for whom the ghosts of Men have no terror.
    ‘This is an evil door,’ said Halbarad, ‘and my death lies beyond it. I will dare to pass it nonetheless; but no horse will
enter.’
    ‘But we must go in, and therefore the horses must go too,’ said Aragorn. ‘For if ever we come through this darkness, many
leagues lie beyond, and every hour that is lost there will bring the triumph of Sauron nearer. Follow me!’
    Then Aragorn led the way, and such was the strength of his will in that hour that all the Dúnedain and their horses followed
him. And indeed the love that the horses of the Rangers bore for their riders was so great that they were willing to face
even the terror of the Door, if their masters’ hearts were steady as they walked beside them. But Arod, the horse of Rohan,
refused the way, and he stood sweating and trembling in a fear that was grievous to see. Then Legolas laid his hands on his
eyes and sang some words that went soft in the gloom, until he suffered himself to be led, and Legolas passed in. And there
stood Gimli the Dwarf left all alone.
    His knees shook, and he was wroth with himself. ‘Here is a thing unheard of!’ he said. ‘An Elf will go underground
and a Dwarf dare not!’ With that he plunged in. But it seemed to him that he dragged his feet like lead over the threshold;
and at once a blindness came upon him, even upon Gimli Glóin’s son who had walked unafraid in many deep places of the world.
    Aragorn had brought torches from Dunharrow, and now he went ahead bearing one aloft; and Elladan with another went at the
rear, and Gimli, stumbling behind, strove to overtake him. He could see nothing but the dim flame of the torches; but if the
Company halted, there seemed an endless whisper of voices all about him, a murmur of words in no tongue that he had ever heard
before.
    Nothing assailed the Company nor withstood their passage, and yet steadily fear grew on the Dwarf as he went on: most of all
because he knew now that there could be no turning back; all the paths behind were thronged by an unseen host that followed
in the dark.
    So time unreckoned passed, until Gimli saw a sight that he was ever afterwards loth to recall. The road was wide, as far as
he could judge, but now the Company came suddenly into a great empty space, and there were no longer any walls upon either
side. The dread was so heavy on him that he could hardly walk. Away to the left something glittered in the gloom as Aragorn’s
torch drew near. Then Aragorn halted and went to look what it might be.
    ‘Does he feel no fear?’ muttered the Dwarf. ‘In any other cave Gimli Glóin’s son would have been the first to run to the gleam
of gold. But not here! Let it lie!’
    Nonetheless he drew near, and saw Aragorn kneeling, while Elladan held aloft both torches. Before him were the bones of a
mighty man. He had been clad in mail, and still his harness lay there whole; for the cavern’s air was as dry as dust, and
his hauberk was gilded. His belt was of gold and garnets, and rich with gold was the helm upon his bony head face downward
on the floor. He had fallen near the far wall of the cave, as now could be seen, and before him stood astony door closed fast: his finger-bones were still clawing at the cracks. A notched and broken sword lay by him, as if he
had hewn at