Trouble shared is trouble halved.
The greatest writers of this age... are aware of the mystery of our existence.
And as the captains gazed south to the Land of Mordor, it seemed to them that, black against the pall of cloud, there rose a huge shape of shadow, impenetrable, lightning-crowned, filling all the sky. Enormous it reared above the world, and stretched out towards them a vast threatening hand, terrible but impotent: for even as it leaned over them, a great wind took it, and it was all blown away, and passed; and then a hush fell.
And they passed in thought out to regions where pain and delight flow together and tears are the very wine of blessedness.
At last Fingon stood alone with his guard dead about him; and he fought with Gothmog, until another Balrog came behind and cast a thong of fire about him. Then Gothmog hewed him with his black axe, and a white flame sprang up from the helm of Fingon as it was cloven. Thus fell the High King of the Noldor; and they beat him into the dust with their maces; and his banner, blue and silver, they trod into the mire of his blood.
But it may be the hard part of a friend to rebuke a friend's folly.
But no living man am I You look upon a woman. Owyn I am, Omunds daughter. You stand between me and my lord and kin. Begone, if you be not deathless For living or dark undead, I will smite you, if you touch him.