Great engines crawled across the field; and in the midst was a huge ram, great as a forest-tree a hundred feet in length, swinging on mighty chains. Long had it been forging in the dark smithies of Mordor, and its hideous head, founded of black steel, was shaped in the likeness of a ravening wolf; on it spells of ruin lay. Grond they named it, in memory of the Hammer of the Underworld of old. Great beasts drew it, orcs surrounded it, and behind walked mountain-trolls to wield it.

For you do not yet know the strengths of your hearts, and you cannot foresee what each may meet on the road.

Many are the strange chances of the world, and help oft shall come from the hands of the weak when the Wise falter.

Burn, burn tree and fern! Shrivel and scorch! A fizzling torch To light the night for our delight, Ya hey! Bake and toast ‘em, fry and roast ‘em! till beards blaze, and eyes glaze; till hair smells and skins crack, fat melts, and bones black in cinders lie beneath the sky! So dwarves shall die, and light the night for our delight, Ya hey! Ya-harri-hey! Ya hoy!

Time doesn't seem to pass here: it just is.

The realm of Suaron is ended!' said Gandalf. 'The Ring-bearer has fulfilled his Quest

I will not say, do not weep, for not all tears are an evil.