Gandalf for certain this time, he thought as he puffed along the passage. But it was not. It was two more dwarves.

Mr. Baggins was still officially their expert burglar and investigator. If he liked to risk a light, that was his affair. They would wait in the tunnel for his report.

He loved mountains, or he had loved the thought of them marching on the edge of stories brought from far away; but now he was borne down by the insupportable weight of Middle-earth. He longed to shut out the immensity in a quiet room by a fire.

Faithful heart may have froward tongue.’ 'Say also,’ said Gandalf, 'that to crooked eyes truth may wear a wry face.

This was Orthanc, the citadel of Saruman, the name of which had (by design or chance) a twofold meaning; for in the Elvish speech orthanc signifies Mount Fang, but in the language of the Mark of old the Cunning Mind.

Voiceless it cries, Wingless flutters, Toothless bites, Mouthless mutters.

What he had to do, he had to do, if he could, and that whether Faramir or Aragorn or Elrond or Galadriel or Gandalf or anyone else ever knew about it was beside the purpose.

We are met together in the house of our friend and fellow conspirator, this most excellent and audacious hobbit—may the hair on his toes never fall out! all praise to his wine and ale!—

Never laugh at live dragons, Bilbo you fool!' he said to himself, and it became a favourite saying of his later, and passed into a proverb. 'You aren't nearly through this adventure yet,' he added, and that was pretty true as well.

It was a hobbit hole, and that means comfort.