Beyond there glimmered far away, as if floating on a grey cloud, the white head of tall Methedras, the last peak of the Misty Mountains.
There far away there was a pale green glimmer that Merry guessed to be a glimpse of the plains of Rohan.
Dawn came glimmering, and slowly a grey light grew about them.
The young moon was glimmering in a misty sky, but it gave small light, and the stars were veiled.
Mist lay there, pale-glimmering in the last rays of the sickle moon.
About its feet there flowed, as a thread of silver, the stream that issued from the dale; upon its brow they caught, still far away, a glint in the rising sun, a glimmer of gold.
But here and there bright sunbeams fell in glimmering shafts from the eastern windows, high under the deep eaves.
Shafts of the sun flared above the eastern hills and glimmered on their spears.
You may see the first glimmer of dawn upon the golden roof of the house of Eorl.
Looking up they saw the clouds breaking and shredding; and then high in the south the moon glimmered out, riding in the flying wrack.
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Above them a few stars still glimmered faintly; but on either side there arose walls of impenetrable gloom; they were in a narrow lane between moving towers of shadow.
Still lakes mirror them: a glimmering world looks up from dark pools covered with clear glass; cities.
The clouds were torn and drifting, and stars peeped out; and above the hills of the Coomb-side the westering moon rode, glimmering yellow in the storm-wrack.
Then I saw, or it seemed that I saw, a boat floating on the water, glimmering grey, a small boat of a strange fashion with a high prow.
The boat turned into the stream and passed glimmering on into the night.
Down in its depths glimmered like a glow-worm thread the wraith-road from the dead city to the Nameless Pass.
Then turning from the city of Morgul, now no more than a grey glimmer across a dark gulf, he prepared to take the upward road.
He fancied there was a glimmer on the ground down there, or perhaps it was some trick of his tears, as he peered out at that high stony place where all his life had fallen in ruin.
The outlet was blocked with some barrier, but not of stone: soft and a little yielding it seemed, and yet strong and impervious; air filtered through, hut not a glimmer of any light.
Before them in the West the world lay still, formless and grey; but even as they looked, the shadows of night melted, the colours of the waking earth returned: green flowed over the wide meads of Rohan; the white mists shimmered in the watervales; and far off to the left, thirty leagues or more, blue and purple stood the White Mountains, rising into peaks of jet, tipped with glimmering snows, flushed with the rose of morning.
The gorse-bushes became more frequent as they got nearer the top; very old and tall they were, gaunt and leggy below but thick above, and already putting out yellow flowers that glimmered in the gloom and gave a faint sweet scent.
For a moment it glimmered, faint as a rising star struggling in heavy earthward mists, and then as its power waxed, and hope grew in Frodo’s mind, it began to burn, and kindled to a silver flame, a minute heart of dazzling light, as though Earendil had himself come down from the high sunset paths with the last Silmaril upon his brow.