When Mr. Bilbo Baggins of Bag End announced that he would shortly be celebrating his eleventy-first birthday...
The talk did not die down in nine or even ninety-nine days.
'You ought to go quietly, and you ought to go soon,' said Gandalf.
The four Hobbits stepped over the wide stone threshold, and stood still, blinking.
Bree was the chief village of the Bree-land, a small inhabited region, like an island in the empty lands round about.
When Frodo came to himself he was still clutching the Ring desperately.
Frodo woke and found himself lying in bed.
Later that day the Hobbits held a meeting of their own in Bilbo's room.
The Company of the Ring stood silent beside the tomb of Balin.
That night the Company was again summoned to the chamber of Celeborn, and there the Lord and Lady greeted them with fair words.
Aragorn sped on up the hill.
Pippin lay in a dark and troubled dream.
Meanwhile, the Hobbits went with as much speed as the dark and tangled forest allowed...
'My very bones are chilled,' said Gimli, flapping his arms and stamping his feet.
They rode on through sunset, and slow dusk, and gathering night.
The sun was already westering as they rode from Edoras, and the light of it was in their eyes, turning all the fields of Rohan to a golden haze.
So it was that in the light of a fair morning King Theoden and Gandalf the White Rider met again upon the green grass beside the Deeping-stream.
They passed through the ruined tunnel and stood upon a heap of stones, gazing at the dark rock of Orthanc, and its many windows, a menace still in the desolation that lay all about
'Well, Master, we're in a fix and no mistake,' said Sam Gamgee.
Gollum moved quickly, with his head and neck thrust forward, often using his hands as well as his feet.
Before the next day dawned their journey to Mordor was over.
It seemed to Sam that he had only dozed for a few minutes when he awoke to find that it was late afternoon and Faramir had come back.
Frodo woke to find Faramir bending over him.
Frodo and Sam returned to their beds and lay there in silence resting for a little, while men bestirred themselves and the business of the day began.
Gollum was tugging at Frodo's cloak and hissing with fear and impatience.
Frodo was lying face upward on the ground and the monster was bending over him, so intent upon her victim that she took no heed of Sam and his cries, until he was close at hand.
Pippin looked out from the shelter of Gandalf's cloak.
Gandalf was gone, and the thudding hoofs of Shadowfax were lost in the night, when Merry came back to Aragorn.
Now all roads were running together to the East to meet the coming of war and the onset of the Shadow.
But it was no orc-chieftain or brigand that led the assault upon Gondor.
A mist was in Merry's eyes of tears and weariness when they drew near the ruined Gate of Minas Tirith.
Two days later the army of the West was all assembled on the Pelennor.
Sam roused himself painfully from the ground.
Sam put his ragged orc-cloak under his master's head, and covered them both with the grey robe of Lórien;
All about the hills the hosts of Mordor raged.
When the days of rejoicing were over at last the Companions thought of returning to their own homes.
It was after nightfall when, wet and tired, the travellers came at last to the Brandywine, and they found the way barred.
The clearing up certainly needed a lot of work, but it took less time than Sam had feared.
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