it was easier to believe in the Dragon and less easy to believe in Thorin in these wild parts
A box without hinges, key, or lid, yet golden treasure inside is hid.
I want to be a healer, and love all things that grow and are not barren.
Not everyone who wanders is lost.
When Summer lies upon the world, and in a noon of gold, Beneath the roof of sleeping leaves the dreams of trees unfold; When woodland halls are green and cool, and wind is in the West, Come back to me! Come back to me, and say my land is best!
And its object is Art not power, sub-creation not domination and tyrannous re-forming of Creation.