Many a man of arms misreads patience and quiet. She did much good among us at much cost. Her heart was not faint, and patience will break at the last.
It’s the job that’s never started as takes longest to finish, as my old gaffer used to say.
But I must admit.′ he added with a queer laugh, ’that I hoped you would take me for my own sake. A hunted man sometimes wearies of distrust and longs for friendship. But there, I believe my looks are against me.
An honest hand and a true heart may hew amiss; and the harm may be harder to bear than the work of a foe.
It’s a dangerous business going out of your front door... there’s no telling where you might be swept off to.
Called, I say, though I have not called you to me, strangers from distant lands. You have come and are here met, in this very nick of time, by chance as it may seem. Yet it is not so. Believe rather that it is so ordered that we, who sit here, and none others, must now find counsel for the peril of the world.
The farmer went about with a high step, and luck smiled on him. The autumn and early winter work went well. All seemed set fair, until the dragon came.
There was one giant in particular, larger and more stupid than his fellows. I find no mention of his name in the histories, but it does not matter. He was very large, his walking stick was like a tree, and his tread was heavy. He brushed elms aside like tall grasses.
Nightingales sang about her wherever she went.
There were many paths that led up into those mountains, and many passes over them. But most of the paths were cheats and deceptions and led nowhere or to bad ends; and most of the passes were infested by evil things and dreadful dangers. The dwarves and the hobbit, helped by the wise advice of Elrond and the knowledge and memory of Gandalf, took the right road to the right pass.
Too swiftly by in love do slip our gentle years.
He is fallen and his cure is beyond us, but I would still spare him, in the hope that he may find it.
Mourn not overmuch! Mighty was the fallen, meet was his ending. When his mound is raised, women then shall weep. War now calls us!
Travellers scowl at us, and countrymen give us scornful names. ‘Strider’ I am to one fat man who lives within a day’s march of foes that would freeze his heart, or lay his little town in ruin, if he were not guarded ceaselessly. Yet we would not have it otherwise. If simple folk are free from care and fear, simple they will be, and we must be secret to keep them so.
Clothes are but little loss, if you escape from drowning.
We who have lived long under the Shadow may surely listen to echoes from a land untroubled by it?
Dwarves’ tongues run on when speaking of their handiwork, they say.
I am he that walks unseen.
I declare the Mountain besieged. You shall not depart from it, until you call on your side for a truce and a parley. We will bear no weapons against you, but we leave you to your gold. You may eat that, if you will!
You may be sure that it was not for any merit that others do not possess: not for power or wisdom, at any rate. But you have been chosen, and you must therefore use such strength and heart and wits as you have.