“This is a story of how a Baggins had an adventure, and found himself doing and saying
things altogether unexpected. He may have lost neighbours’ respect, but he gained – well,
you will see whether he gained anything in the end.” - J.R.R. Tolkien
To the Sea, to the Sea! The white gulls are crying,
The wind is blowing, and the white foam is flying.
West, west away, the round sun is falling.
Grey ship, grey ship, do you hear them calling,
The voices of my people that have gone before me?
I will leave, I will leave the woods that bore me;
For our days are ending and our years failing.
I will pass the wide waters lonely sailing.
Long are the waves on the Last Shore falling,
Sweet are the voices in the Lost Isle calling,
In Eressëa, in Elvenhome that no man can discover,
Where the leaves fall not: land of my people for ever!
“There were rockets like a flight of scintillating birds singing with sweet voices. There were
green trees with trunks of dark smoke: their leaves opened like a whole spring unfolding in a
moment, and their shining branches dropped glowing flowers down on the astonished hobbits,
disappearing with a sweet scent just before they touched their upturned faces. There were
fountains of butterflies that flew glittering into the trees; there were pillars of coloured fires
that rose and turned into eagles, or sailing ships, or a phalanx of flying swans…”
Happy birthday, Mr. Baggins.