A red sun rises. Blood has been spilled this night.

A man that flies from his fear may find that he has only taken a short cut to meet it.

This is the ending. Now not day only shall be beloved, but night too shall be beautiful and blessed and all its fear pass away.

I am in fact a Hobbit in all but size. I like gardens, trees, and unmechanized farmlands; I smoke a pipe, and like good plain food (unrefrigerated), but detest French cooking; I like, and even dare to wear in these dull days, ornamental waistcoats. I am fond of mushrooms (out of a field); have a very simple sense of humor (which even my appreciative critics find tiresome); I go to bed late and get up late (when possible). I do not travel much.

Those were happier days, when there was still close friendship at times between folk of different race, even between Dwarves and Elves.' It was not the fault of the Dwarves that the friendship waned,' said Gimli. I have not heard that it was the fault of the Elves,' said Legolas. I have heard both,' said Gandalf[.]

Fear nothing! Have peace until the morning! Heed no nightly noises!

What course am I to take?" "Towards danger; but not too rashly, nor too straight.