Poor Mr. Baggins—it was a weary long time that he lived in that place all alone, and always in hiding, never daring to take off his ring.
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For a while they stood there, like men on the edge of a sleep where nightmare lurks, holding it off, though they know that they can only come to morning through the shadows.
Now at this last we must take a hard road, a road unforeseen. There lies our hope, if hope it be. To walk into peril – to Mordor. We must send the Ring to the Fire.
If you mean you think it is my job to go into the secret passage first, O Thorin Thrain’s son Oakenshield, may your beard grow ever longer, he said crossly, say so at once and have done!
But Saruman had slowly shaped it to his shifting purposes, and made it better, as he thought, being deceived.
Unlooked-for?’ said Gandalf. 'I said that I would return and meet you here.’ 'But you did not name the hour, nor foretell the manner of your coming. Strange help you bring. You are mighty in wizardry, Gandalf the White!
Escaping goblins to be caught by wolves! he said, and it became a proverb, though we now say 'out of the frying-pan into the fire’ in the same sort of uncomfortable situations.
There is something strange at work in this land. I distrust the silence. I distrust even the pale Moon. The stars are faint; and I am weary as I have seldom been before, weary as no Ranger should be with a clear trail to follow. There is some will that lends speed to our foes and sets an unseen barrier before us: a weariness that is in the heart more than in the limb.
I suppose we haven’t lost more than two days by my short cut through the Forest! But perhaps the delay will prove useful – it may have put them off our trail.
May the wind under your wings bear you where the sun sails and the moon walks, answered Gandalf, who knew the correct reply.