Molehills: On Gil-galad

He equates mountains with molehills because you could fall from either. Because either could kill you. Because they both are hills.

He draws questions from answers and make marks on paper that sort of mean what he's thinking. But not really. He signs them as king.

He perfects skipping stones and blueberry pancakes and builds armies and strategies. He taps on lines on paper that measure miles.

He reads history books to get to know his family. By the light of a candle he recites their names and causes of death.

Finally he concludes that all the causes are the same; they all go back to one thing.

'So,' he says. 'That's the way it will be.'

He writes letters and gains allies step by step. He keeps his friends at arm's length and tells them sorry until they stop needing him.

He doesn't marry.

In the end he stands brave: a shining star in the shadows. He holds his helm high as he stands by the mountain.

He equates mountains with molehills.