Gandalf as Ring-Lord would have been far worse than Sauron. He would have remained ‘righteous’, but self-righteous. Thus while Sauron multiplied evil, he left ‘good’ clearly distinguishable from it. Gandalf would have made good detestable and seem evil.
In one thing you have not changed, dear friend,’ said Aragorn: ‘you still speak in riddles.’ ‘What? In riddles?’ said Gandalf. ‘No! For I was talking aloud to myself. A habit of the old:.
One has indeed personally to come under the shadow of war to feel fully its oppression; but as the years go by it seems now often forgotten that to be caught in youth by 1914 was no less hideous an experience than to be involved in 1939 and the following years. By 1918 all but one of my close friends were dead. Or.
I am but dirt and dust in kind, and you a rich and radiant rose...
The banquet was very splendid, however, though I had a bad cold at the time, I remember, and could only say ‘thag you very buch’.
Also they have filled themselves with new doubts that disturb their plans. No.
The Lord of the Rings’ is of course a fundamentally religious and Catholic work; unconsciously so at first, but consciously in the revision. That is why I have not put in, or have cut out practically all references to anything like ‘religion,’ to cults or practices, in the imaginary world. For the religious element is absorbed into the story and symbolism.
You could call her perilous because she was so strong in herself.
I was having such a lovely dream,” he grumbled, “all about having a most gorgeous dinner.” “Good heavens! he has gone like Bombur,” they said. “Don’t tell us about dreams. Dream-dinners aren’t any good, and we can’t share them.
Run, you fools!
Deep down here by the dark water lived old Gollum, a small slimy creature. I don’t know where he came from, nor who or what he was. He was Gollum – as dark as darkness, except for two big round pale eyes in his thin face.
But when the Ents all gathered round Treebeard, bowing their heads slightly, murmuring in their slow musical voices, and looking long and intently at the strangers, then the hobbits saw that they were all of the same kindred, and all had the same eyes: not all so old or so deep as Treebeard’s, but all with the same slow, steady, thoughtful expression, and the same green flicker.
His sword, Sting, Bilbo hung over his fireplace, and his coat of marvellous mail, the gift of the Dwarves from the Dragon-hoard, he lent to a museum, to the Michel Delving Mathom-house in fact.
No doubt some who deserved to be asked were overlooked, and some who did not were invited by mistake; for that is the way of things, however careful those who arrange such matters may try to be.
Long listening is hungry work.
Bilbo. “Ha!” thought he, warming to his new work as he lifted it carefully out, “this.
They rode on through sunset, and slow dusk, and gathering night.
Do not regret your choice in the valley of the Emyn Muil, nor call it a vain pursuit. You chose amid doubts the path that seemed right: the choice was just, and it has been rewarded. For.
In two days going they rowed right up the Long Lake and passed out into the River Running, and now they could all see the Lonely Mountain towering grim and tall before them. The stream was strong and their going slow.
To his astonishment and terror, and lasting delight, Sam saw a vast shape crash out of the trees and come careering down the slope.