Last of all Hurin stood alone. Then he cast aside his shield, and wielded an axe two-handed; and it is sung that the axe smoked in the black blood of the troll-guard of Gothmog until it withered, and each time that he slew Hurin cried 'Aure entuluva!

Don't you know my name yet? That's the only answer. Tell me, who are you alone, yourself and nameless? But you are young and I am old. Eldest, that's what I am. Mark my words, my friends: Tom was here before the river and the trees; Tom remembers the first raindrop and the first acorn. He made paths before the Big People, and saw the little People arriving. He was here before the Kings and the graves and the Barrow-wights. When the Elves passed westward, Tom was here already, before the seas were bent. He knew the dark under the stars when it was fearless - before the Dark Lord came from Outside.

She should not die, so young and beautiful. At least, she should not die alone.

The horn that wakes the sleepers! The shield that guard the realms of men!

It may be the part of a friend to rebuke a friend's folly.

All that is gold does not glitter; not all those that wander are lost.