I realized then that even though I was a tiny speck in an infinite cosmos, a blip on the timeline of eternity, I was not without purpose.

I do not desire evil, Garan had said to her once, but it seems to me that to stand idle while evil is being done is no virtue either.

I thought all the trees were whispering to each other, passing news and plots along in an unintelligible language; and the branches swayed and groped without any wind. They do say the trees do actually move, and can surround strangers and hem them.

In the stern sat Aragon son of Arathorn, proud and erect, guiding the boat with skilful strokes; his hood was cast back, and his dark hair was blowing in the wind, a light was in his eyes: a king returning from exile to his own land.

I looked up, into the muddy hazel eyes of the nicest man I would ever learn to hate.

He thought much but said little.