Starkhorn

     Merry looked out in wonder upon this strange country, of which he had heard many tales upon their long road.  It was a skyless world, in which his eye, through dim gulfs of shadowy air, saw only ever-mounting slopes, great walls of stone behind great walls, and frowning precipices wreathed with mist.  He sat for a moment half dreaming, listening to the noise of water, the whisper of dark trees, the crack of stone, and the vast waiting silence that brooded behind all sound.  He loved mountains, or he had loved the thought of them marching on the edge of stories brought from far away; but now he was borne down by the insupportable weight of Middle-earth.  He longed to shut out the immensity in a quiet room by a fire.

     -- J.R.R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings:  The Return of the King, Book Five, Chapter III:  'The Muster of Rohan'

Wassail, friends.  --  C.