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J. R. R. Tolkien, fully John Ronald Reuel Tolkien

But the helm of her secrecy had fallen from her, and her bright hair, released from its bonds, gleamed with pale gold upon her shoulders. Her eyes grey as the sea were hard and fell, and yet tears were on her cheek. A sword was in her hand, and she raised her shield against the horror of her enemy's eyes? Still she did not blench: maiden of the Rohirrim, child of kings, slender but as a steel-blade, fair yet terrible. A swift stroke she dealt, skilled and deadly. The outstretched neck she clove asunder, and the hewn head fell like a stone. Backward she sprang as the huge shape crashed to ruin, vast wings outspread, crumpled on the earth; and with its fall the shadow passed away. A light fell about her, and her hair shone in the sunrise.

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J. R. R. Tolkien, fully John Ronald Reuel Tolkien

Folk in those stories had lots of chances of turning back, only they didn?t. They kept going. Because they were holding on to something. That there?s some good in this world, Mr. Frodo? and it?s worth fighting for.

Effort | Energy |

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J. R. R. Tolkien, fully John Ronald Reuel Tolkien

I tried to save the Shire, and it has been saved, but not for me. It must often be so, Sam, when things are in danger; someone has to give them up, lose them, so that others may keep them...

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