Book: The Lord Of The Rings. Page 3

- Nothing good.

But nothing lasts forever.

The friendliness of the local hobbits interfered with curiosity, and soon Frodo realized that he could not do without explanations. He said that he was interested in history and geography (everyone nodded, although the words were outlandish), that he was going to write a book (amazed silence was his answer), that he and his friends were collecting information about hobbits living outside the Hobbitania.

The memory is full of holes, and there is no time to mend.

And the inn stood as it was, and the innkeeper is still an important person. There, lazybones, talkers, inveterate gossips of all sizes gather with him, Pathfinders and other vagabonds find shelter.

Neither the Hulks nor the Shorties here were fond of travel: they had enough of their own news.

In the soul of the fattest, most timid hobbit, however, lurks (sometimes very deeply lurks) like a desperate courage reserved for a rainy day.

And Zolotinka sang a lot of songs for them, cheerful and quiet: they heard the rivers flowing and the lakes swaying - large, bright - they saw in them the reflection of the sky and starry ripples.

There is no happiness for sluggards - remember the proverb: Early

A pale morning oozed: in the east, behind long, washed, wadded clouds with a scarlet border, a yellow dawn was breaking. The hanging skies foreshadowed rain; but the dawn was clearer and brighter, and the blossoming beans shone brightly among the damp green foliage.

More candles on the table, mistress! Let's move the curtains - and for a good meal, the evening blows quickly. The table is set, and dinner is waiting - milk and butter, white bread and yellow honey - so everything is fine!

Believe me, darkness does not swirl forever.

There was not a tree on Progalyn: stiff grass, and among it stuck out stale hemlock, brown weeds, sluggish henbane and dry thistles. Everything fell and crumbled, everything had its turn to become dust.

But we will return to our father's house!