the entrance to the path was like a sort of arch leading into a gloomy tunnel made by two great trees that leant together, too old and strangled with ivy and hung with lichen to bear more than a few blackened leaves. the path itself was narrow and wound in and out among the trunks. soon the light at the gate was like a little bright hole far behind. and the quiet was so deep that their feet seemed to thump along while all the trees leaned over them and listened / mirkwood / tolkien / the hobbit