There were no foothills or downs betwixt the plain and the mountains,
naught save a tumble of rocks that had fallen from the cliffs,
piled up strangely, and making a maze through which the Sage
led them surely; and at last they were clear even of this,
and were underneath the flank of that ness, which was so huge that
there seemed that there could scarce be any more mountain than that.
Little of its huge height could they see, now they were close to it,
for it went up sheer at first and then beetled over them till they
could see no more of its side; as they wound about its flank, and they
were long about it, the Sage cried out to those two and stretched
out his hand, and behold! the side of the black cliff plain and smooth
and shining as if it had been done by the hand of men or giants,
and on this smooth space was carven in the living rock the image
of a warrior in mail and helm of ancient fashion, and holding a sword
in his right hand. From head to heel he seemed some sixty feet high,
and the rock was so hard, that he was all clean and clear to see;
and they deemed of him that his face was keen and stern of aspect.
So there they stood in an awful bight of the mountain,
made by that ness, and the main wall from which it thrust out.
But after they had gazed awhile and their hearts were
in their mouths, the Sage turned on those twain and said:
"Here then is the end of my journey with you; and ye wot all
that I can tell you, and I can say no word more save to bid you
cast all fear aside and thrive.
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