Faithful heart may have froward tongue.

Stand by the grey stone when the thrush knocks, and the setting sun with the last light of Durin’s Day will shine upon the key-hole.

Fairy tale does not deny the existence of sorrow and failure: the possibility of these is necessary to the joy of deliverance. It denies (in the face of much evidence, if you will) universal final defeat...giving a fleeting glimpse of Joy; Joy beyond the walls of the world, poignant as grief.

Goodbye, master, my dear! Forgive your Sam. He'll come back to this spot when the job's done - if he manages it. And then he'll not leave you again. Rest you quiet till I come; and may no foul creature come anigh you! And if the Lady could hear me and give me one wish, I would wish to come back and find you again. Good bye!

Don't adventures ever have an end? I suppose not. Someone else always has to carry on on the story.

But it seems that the wind is setting East, and the withering of all Woods may be drawing near.

Truly songs and tales fall utterly short of the reality, O Smaug the Chiefest and greatest of Calamities.