The Pillars of Nareth are exactly what they sound like: a series of stone columns rising out of a landscape that does not remember inviting them. No one knows who built them, or if they were built at all. They may have simply appeared one morning, like an unsolicited thought.
The pillars vary in height, width, and enthusiasm. Some stand straight, others lean as if listening for gossip. One particularly unhelpful pillar hums faintly whenever approached, though tests reveal no vibration, sound, or reason for its behaviour. Scholars have agreed to ignore it.
Fragments recovered from the site tend to be brittle and pale, as though they grew tired of being objects and tried turning into dust, but gave up halfway. Many bear markings that resemble writing, diagrams, or possibly the doodles of an inattentive deity.
Travellers who visit the Pillars describe an odd sensation of being watched by architecture. The site has no visible inhabitants, but the silence there feels personal, like the kind that forms after someone asks a question no one wants to answer.
Whether the Pillars were meant to support something, commemorate something, or simply loom menacingly is still debated. The Archive has accepted that they will never explain themselves. Pillars rarely do.