Yes, I will — two eyes, as often as I can spare them.

As they sang the hobbit felt in love of beautiful things made by hands and by cunning and by magic moving through him, a fierce and a jealous love, the desire of the hearts of dwarves.

Far over the misty mountains cold. To dungeons deep, and caverns old

Getting rid of dragons is not at all in my line, but I will do my best to think about it. Personally I have no hopes at all, and wish I was safe back at home.

Well I've made up my mind, anyway. I want to see mountains again, Gandalf – mountains; and then find somewhere where I can rest. In peace and quiet, without a lot of relatives prying around, and string of confounded visitors hanging on the bell. I might find somewhere where I can finish my book. I have thought of a nice ending for it: and he lived happily ever after to the end of his days.

We are plain quiet folk, and I have no use for adventures. Nasty, disturbing, and uncomfortable things.

I feel thin, sort of stretched, like butter scraped over too much bread.

I am old, Gandalf. I don't look it, but I am beginning to feel it in my heart of hearts. Well-preserved indeed! Why, I feel all thin, sort of stretched, if you know what I mean: like butter that has been scraped over too much bread. That can't be right. I need a change, or something.

For MILO BURROWS, hoping it will be useful from B.B.; on a gold pen and ink-bottle. Milo never answered letters.