I know. He'd probably come with me, if I asked him. I think in his heart Frodo's still in love with the Shire. The woods... and fields... little rivers. I'm old, Gandalf! I know I don't look it, but I'm beginning to feel it in my heart. I feel thin! Sort of stretched like... butter, stretched over too much bread! I need a holiday! A very long holiday... And I don't expect I shall return. In fact I mean not to.
Day is ended, dim my eyes,
but journey long before me lies.
Farewell, friends! I hear the call.
The ship's beside the stony wall.
Foam is white and waves are grey;
beyond the sunset leads my way.
Foam is salt, the wind is free;
I hear the rising of the Sea.
Farewell, friends! The sails are set,
the wind is east, the moorings fret.
Shadows long before me lie,
beneath the ever-bending sky,
but islands lie behind the Sun
that I shall raise ere all is done;
lands there are to west of West,
where night is quiet and sleep is rest.
Guided by the Lonely Star,
beyond the utmost harbour-bar
I'll find the havens fair and free,
and beaches of the Starlit Sea.
Ship, my ship! I seek the West,
and fields and mountains ever blest.
Farewell to Middle-earth at last.
I see the Star above your mast!
Roads go ever ever on,
Over rock and under tree,
By caves where never sun has shone,
By streams that never find the sea;
Over snow by winter sown,
And through the merry flowers of June,
Over grass and over stone,
And under mountains in the moon.
Roads go ever ever on
Under cloud and under star,
Yet feet that wandering have gone
Turn at last to home afar.
Eyes that fire and sword have seen
And horror in the halls of stone
Look at last on meadows green
And trees and hills they long have known.
A box without hinges, key or lid
Yet golden treasure inside is hid Box.
Thirty white horses on a red hill
First they champ, then they stamp
Then they stand still
— It... I picked it up in Beorn's garden.
— You've carried it all this way?
— I'm gonna plant it in my garden. In Bag End.
— It's a poor prize to take back to the Shire.
— One day, it'll grow. And every time I look at it, I'll remember. Remember everything that happened, the good, the bad... and how lucky I am that I made it home.
— Oh, I've had enough of this lippy Lakeman. I say we throw him over the side and be done with it.
— Bard, his name's Bard.
— How do you know?
— Uh, I asked him.
— Good morning.
— What do you mean? Do you wish me a good morning...or do you mean that it is a good morning whether I want it or not? Or perhaps you mean to say that you feel good on this particular morning? Or are you simply stating that this is a morning to be good on? Hm? All of them at once, I suppose.
