We set out to save the Shire, Sam and it has been saved - but not for me.

I don't want to be in a battle. But waiting on the edge of one I can't escape is even worse.

Farewell! O Gandalf! May you ever appear where you are most needed and least expected!

There was a fire in the wide hearth before them, and it was burning with a sweet smell, as if it were built of apple-wood.

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.

Shall we mourn here deedless forever a shadow-folk mist-haunting dropping vain tears in the thankless sea

Faerie is a perilous land, and in it are pitfalls for the unwary, and dungeons for the overbold.