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Lately I have been trying to read as much of J.R.R.’s personal thoughts as I can come across (I don’t have the Tolkien letters yet).

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Lothlorien is beautiful because there the trees were loved; elsewhere forests are represented as awakening to consciousness of themselves. The Old Forest was hostile to two legged creatures because of the memory of many injuries. Fangorn Forest was old and beautiful, but at the time of the story tense with hostility because it was threatened by a machine-loving enemy. Mirkwood had fallen under the domination of a Power that hated all living things but was restored to beauty and became Greenwood the Great before the end of
the story.

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The habitat of the old: They choose the wisest person present tp speak to, the long explanations needed by the young are wearying.
Gandalf in The White Rider to Aragorn

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I cannot figure out how to do quotes!

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The old world will burn in the fires of industry. Forests will fall. A new order will rise. We will drive the machinery of war with the sword and the spear and the iron fist of the Orcs. We now have only to remove those who oppose us.

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The fires of Isengard will spread. And the woods of Tuckburough and Buckland will burn. And all that was once green and good in this world will be gone. There won’t be a Shire, Pippin.

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It’s like in the great stories, Mr. Frodo. The ones that really mattered. Full of darkness and danger they were. And sometimes you didn’t want to know the end. Because how could the end be happy? How could the world go back to the way it was when so much bad had happened?

But in the end, it’s only a passing thing, this shadow. Even darkness must pass. A new day will come. And when the sun shines it will shine out the clearer.

Those were the stories that stayed with you. That meant something. Even if you were too small to understand why. But I think, Mr. Frodo, I do understand. I know now. Folk in those stories had lots of chances of turning back only they didn’t. Because they were holding on to something.

[We should hold on to the fact] That there’s some good in this world, Mr. Frodo. And it’s worth fighting for.

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He that breaks a thing to find out what it is has left the path of wisdom (Gandalf to Saruman, The Council of Elrond)

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I know Tolkien was referring to the forests and the attocities against the trees and the environment, however, I believe we can apply this to people too. Perhaps we have more in common with the trees than we think.

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Now in the very hour of his great designs the heir of Isildur and the Sword are revealed; for I showed the blade re-forged to him. He is not so mighty yet that he is above fear; nay, doubt ever gnaws him.

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A red sun rises. Blood has been spilt this night.

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That's Sheryl's signature. I don't know who said it, but I'll guess at Elrond. (I have a terrible memory.)

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Heh, that's pure Peter Jackson Peredhil, it's from his Legolas in TTT. *laughs hysterically*

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I like the one that I use as a quote.



ROTK page 134 The Battle Of The Pelennor Fields

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Out of doubt, out of dark, to the day's rising he rode singing in the sun, sword unsheathing. Hope he rekindled, and in hope ended; over death, over dread, over doom lifted out of loss,out of life, unto long glory.

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Oaths ye have taken: now fulfil them all, to lord and land and league of friendship!

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I wonder Frodo my dear fellow, if you would very much mind postThreadIDying things up before you go? Collect all my notes and papers, and my diary too, and take them with you, if you will. You see, I haven’t much time for the selection and arrangement and all that.

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"Almost felt you liked the Forest! That's good! That's uncommonly kind of you."

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From The Hobbit, page 243, chapter XIII.

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Among the tales of sorrow and of ruin that come down to us from the darkness of those days there are yet some in which amid weeping there is joy and under the shadow of death light that endures. And of these histories most fair still in the ears of the Elves is the tale of Beren and Luthien.

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But the last-comer was named among the Elves Mithrandir, the Grey Pilgrim, for he dwelt in no place, and gathered to himself neither wealth nor followers, but ever went to and fro in the Westlands from Gondor to Angmar, and from Lindon to Lorien, befriending all folk in times of need. Warm and eager was his spirit (and it was enhanced by the ring Narya), for he was the Enemy of Sauron, opposing the fire that devours and wastes with the fire that kindles, and succours in wanhope and distress; but his joy, and swift wrath, were veiled in garments grey as ash, so that only those that knew him well glimpsed the flame that was within.

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The days now are short. Either our hope cometh, or all hopes end. Therefore I send thee what I have made for thee. Fare well, Elfstone!

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As if his indomitable spirit had set its potency in motion, the glass blazed suddenly like a white torch in his hand. It flamed like a star that leaping from the firmament sears the dark air with intolerable light. No such terror out of heaven had ever burned in Shelob's face before. The beams of it entered into her wounded head and scored it with unbearable pain, and the dreadful infection of light spread from eye to eye. She fell back beating the air with her forelegs, her sight blasted by inner lightnings, her mind in agony. Then turning her maimed head away, she rolled aside and began to crawl, claw by claw, towards the opening in the dark cliff behind.

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'I do not love the bright sword for its sharpness,
nor the arrow for its swiftness,
nor the warrior for his glory.
I love only that which they defend: the city of the Men of N’menor.'

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Here was one with an air of high nobility such as Aragorn at times revealed, less high perhaps, yet also less incalculable and remote; one of the Kings of Men born into a later time, but touched with the wisdom and sadness of the Elder Race. He knew now why Beregond spoke his name with love. He was a captain that men would follow, that he would follow, even under the shadow of the black wings.

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And the ship went out into the HIgh Sea and passed on into the West, until at last on a night of rain Frodo smelled a sweet fragrance on the air and heard the sound of singing that came over the water. And then it seemed to him that as in his dream in the house of Bombadil, the grey rain-curtain turned all to silver glass and was rolled back, an he beheld white shores and beyond them a far green country under a swift sunrise.

But to Sam the evening deepened to darkness as he stood at the Haven; and as he looked at the grey sea he saw only a shadow on the waters that was soon lost in the West. There still he stood far into the night, hearing only the sigh and murmur of the wavbes on the shores of Middle-earth, and the sound of them sank deep into his heard.

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In the twilight of autumn it (the ship that Cirdan had made ready) sailed out of Mithlond, until the seas of the Bent World fell away beneath it, and the winds of the round sky troubled it no more, and borne upon the high airs above the mists of the world it passed into the Ancient West, and an end was come for the Eldar of story and of song.