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said Aragorn. ‘There are some things that it is better to begin than to refuse, even though the end may be dark.
‘I know,’ growled Uglúk.
Indeed he is in great fear, not knowing what mighty one may suddenly appear, wielding the Ring, and assailing him with war, seeking to cast him down and take his place. That we should wish to cast him down and have no one in his place is not a thought that occurs to his mind. That we should try to destroy the Ring itself has not yet entered into his darkest dream.
Treebeard is Fangorn, the guardian of the forest; he is the oldest of the Ents, the oldest living thing that still walks beneath the Sun upon this Middle-earth.
Against the Deeping Wall the hosts of Isengard roared like a sea.
Aragorn. In his hand still Andúril gleamed, and the terror of the sword for a while held back the enemy,
Songs we have that tell of these things, but we are forgetting them, teaching them only to children, as a careless custom. And now the songs have come down among us out of strange places, and walk visible under the Sun.’
For Treebeard is Fangorn, and the eldest and chief of the Ents, and when you speak with him you will hear the speech of the oldest of all living things.’
Longbottom Leaf!
Deserves death! I daresay he does. Many that live deserve death. And some die that deserve life. Can you give that to them? Then be not too eager to deal out death in the name of justice, fearing for your own safety. Even the wise cannot see all ends.
Gandalf in book1
Frodo’s face was peaceful, the marks of fear and care had left it; but it looked old, old and beautiful, as if the chiselling of the shaping years was now revealed in many fine lines that had before been hidden, though the identity of the face was not changed. Not that Sam Gamgee put it that way to himself. He shook his head, as if finding words useless, and murmured: ‘I love him. He’s like that, and sometimes it shines through, somehow. But I love him, whether or no.’
What’s taters, precious, eh, what’s taters?’ ‘Po – ta – toes,’
Better mistrust undeserved than rash words.
And still the stench grew. It grew, until almost it seemed to them that smell was the only clear sense left to them, and that was for their torment.
‘I wish old Tom was near us now!’
Too little did he or his master know of the craft of Shelob. She had many exits from her lair.
Turning his eyes away from the shadow behind and the deep gloom beneath the cliff upon his left, he looked ahead, and he saw two 724 things that increased his dismay.
