Quichotte

by Salman Rushdie

Obviously, he says. One by one, very quietly, the stars will start going out. I see him. Above all he’s Bilbo/Frodo, eleventy-one today, no wonder he’s crazy for journeying. The Road goes ever on and on. I see him invisible, slipping the Ring on his finger. Ash nazg durbatulûk, ash nazg gimbatul, / Ash nazg thrakatulûk agh burzum-ishi krimpatul. Invisibility is a thing he dearly wishes for. He wants to disappear. Here too is the origin of his desire to follow a wandering star. I will diminish and go into the West and remain Galadriel. This is what he longs for. To diminish and go into the West. To be a person not seen, of no import, going where he will, remaining himself, taking what life gives him, maybe a mendicant, like a monk, or a sannyasi. Maybe even a thief. What has it got in its pocketses? Thief, thief. Baggins…we hates it for ever.