Come, Mr. Frodo!' he cried. 'I can't carry it for you, but I can carry you.

Splendid! They used to go up like great lilies and snapdragons and laburnums of fire and hang in the twilight all evening!

And there was Frodo, pale and worn, and yet himself again; and in his eyes there was peace now, neither strain of will, nor madness, nor any fear. His burden was taken away.

Well, you have now, Sam, dear Sam,' said Frodo, and he lay back in Sam's gentle arms, closing his eyes, like a child at rest when night-fears are driven away by some loved voice or hand. Sam felt that he could sit like that in endless happiness.

Still round the corner there may wait A new road or a secret gate And though I oft have passed them by A day will come at last when I Shall take the hidden paths that run West of the Moon, East of the Sun.

Don't go where I can't follow!

Their 'magic' is Art, delivered from many of its human limitations.