In J. R. R. Tolkien's legendarium, the Paths of the Dead were a haunted passage under the White Mountains.
The Paths of the Dead started at the Dark Door at the end of the long valley of Harrowdale, beyond the Firienfeld and the forest of Dimholt, wedged in between the mountains Irensaga (Iron Saw), Starkhorn, and the Dwimorberg.
After the Dark Door, the Paths went under the Dwimorberg, past another door where Aragorn and company found the remains of Baldor, son of the second King of Rohan, Brego. The Paths then continued past forgotten cities, emerging at the southern end of the White Mountains in Morthond vale, near the Stone of Erech.
Read more about Paths Of The Dead: In Adaptations of The Lord of The Rings
Famous quotes containing the words the dead, paths of, paths and/or dead:
“Wild Bill was indulging in his favorite pastime of a friendly game of cards in the old No. 10 saloon. For the second time in his career, he was sitting with his back to an open door. Jack McCall walked in, shot him through the back of the head, and rushed from the place, only to be captured shortly afterward. Wild Bill’s dead hand held aces and eights, and from that time on this has been known in the West as “the dead man’s hand.””
—State of South Dakota, U.S. public relief program (1935-1943)
“She had no longer any relish for her once favorite amusement of reading. And mostly she disliked those authors who have penetrated deeply into the intricate paths of vanity in the human mind, for in them her own folly was continually brought to her remembrance and presented to her view.”
—Sarah Fielding (1710–1768)
“Fair is my Love, and cruel as she’s fair
Her brow shades frowns, although her eyes are sunny;
Her smiles are lightning, though her pride despair;
And her disdains are gall, her favours honey.
A modest maid, decked with a blush of honour,
Whose feet do tread green paths of youth and love,”
—Samuel Daniel (1562–1619)
“The dead fed you
Amid the slant stones of graveyards.
Pale ghosts who planted you
Came in the night-time
And let their thin hair blow through your clustered stems.”
—Amy Lowell (1874–1925)