Fire in Four Quarters by sallysavestheday

West (numen): Durin's Doors

The sinking sun

kindles the gate-stream,

sets alight the hauberks

of the doorwardens

dicing and laughing under the hollies.

Light spreads its gilded fingers

over the threshold

where the doors

stand

ever open,

welcoming.

The guards’ abandoned halberds

flash and flare –

their shadows

thrown across the gate,

lengthening

as the sky burns

and spills scarlet

across the white stones

of the road

to Ost-in-Edhil:

that city of friends

from which nothing

evil

ever comes.