[ CW ] Tolkein and Lovecraft are both prolific writers of their generes and are starkly different from each other , but what if they wrote each others work ?

*The Road goes ever on and on 
 Past where Shub-Niggurath began 
 Now past Shoggoths the Road has gone 
 And I must follow, if I can, 
 Pursuing Hastur Hastur Hast– 
 Until he joins the old R ’ yleh 
 Where cross and crisscross many paths 
 From then on? No sane man can say. * 
 
 
 It was the last gathering of the Miskatonic University Historical faculty, and it was a gathering such as will not be seen again in this Age. 
 
 Professor Ashley, born of a direct line from the first Ashley to walk the shores of the uttermost West, struck the gavel called Order on the podium. “ Gentlemen! * We are gathered to discuss the urgent matter of an infestation of Shoggoths from the mountain. ” 
 
 Archivist Armitage, sole representative of the proud hill folk of New Hampshire, rose to his feet. “ Gentlemen. For time beyond remembering the Dark Lord of the Deeps has sent his servants to sow discord and fear amidst my people. I am a prince of a threatened race, while the rivers and valleys roll unmolested. We die to preserve your world! Now I come with a plea: join with us in arms. Drive these Shoggoths back to their lairs and hiding places. Let us trouble the dreams of R'lyeh! ” 
 
 Professor Freeborn spoke for the far-riding hunters of the Nodensdain. “ Fight in the hills! Drive back to lairs! ” The room fell silent, for Freeborn was as man of few words but weighty ones. “ For generations beyond remembering the Nodensdain have hunted for the lost city of R ’ lyeh, to bring the fell ones to final justice. ” Silence, again, before he spoke the name that was feared above all others. “ Cthulhu is my aim, and I will fight any battle that brings me closer to seeing his face. ” 
 
 “ You go too far, ” cried Ashley, stirking Order as though to silence words that could not be taken back. “ We could send ten thousand men to seek R ’ lyeh and end with only a handful of bodies and a rumour beyond the sea. Let us speak of feats that men may reasonably do. ” 
 
 “ Reason, ” said the senior Professor Wilmarth. “ There is no reason to these beasts. Let us hurl ourselves into the fray as madmen, or hunt the seas as madmen, or build forts amidst the hills as madmen. There is no hope, for where the Shoggoths go the Mi-gos will follow, and where they make their lair the Old Gods will surely come, soon or late. Save yourselves, fools! Let each man look to his own fate, for it is sealed and wants his attention. ” 
 
 Ashley struck the podium with Order again. “ Wilmarth! ” he cried. “ Have you gone mad with despair? Have you looked upon the colour of space, or listened to the whisperings of Nyarlathotep? We must have hope! Above all things, we must have hope! ” 
 
 Armitage shifted, resting his weight on his staff. “ We must have hope and a few hundred hardy men, or this despair will sweep the University faster than you know. ” 
 
 Professor Freeborn took his hand from the hidden artefact in his coat. The men here gathered would not understand, would never understand. But in his heart, the search for R ’ yleh was already hopeless. “ The Nodensdain will join with you, Armitage, if others will send their forces as well. Let us scour the hills. Let us take back one place from the darkness, from the colour…from the whispers. ” His hand tightened. No one heard what he did in the silence that came next. 
 
 It was the last Council of Miskatonic and Men, and the day was fast deepening to night. In the roads of the town foul gazes and fouler plans were laid. Not even the stars were to be trusted, hope burned low in the hearts of men, and the faculty of Miskatonic University had no visible fate but forward. 
 
 -- - 
 
 \* There are two ladies in the entire 1247-page Books of the Miskatonic. They are both flawlessly beautiful paragons of virtue, saviours of their people, and mothers of proud lines of Men, and their story does not concern us today. 

