John Ronald Reuel Tolkien
Lord of the Rings
London, Sydney, Wellington 1990.
The Road goes ever on and on
Down from the door where it began.
Now far ahead the Road has gone,
And I must follow, if I can,
Pursuing it with eager feet,
Until it joins some larger way
Where many paths and errands meet.
And whither then? I cannot say.
"O Gandalf, best of friends, what am I to do? For now I am really afraid. What am I to do? What a pity that
Bilbo did not stab that vile creature, when he had a chance!"
"Pity? It was Pity that stayed his hand. Pity, and Mercy: not to strike without need. And he has been well
rewarded, Frodo. Be sure that he took so little hurt from the evil, and escaped in the end, because he began his
ownership of the Ring so. With Pity."
"I am sorry," said Frodo. "But I am frightened; and I do not feel any pity for Gollum."
"You have not seen him," Gandalf broke in.
"No, and I don't want to," said Frodo. "I can't understand you. Do you mean to say that you, and the Elves,
have let him live on after all those horrible deeds? Now at any rate he is as bad as an Orc, and just an enemy. He
deserves death."
"Deserves it! I daresay he does. Many that live deserve death. And some that die deserve life. Can you give it
to them? Then do not be too eager to deal out death in judgement. For even the very wise cannot see all ends. I have
not much hope that Gollum can be cured before he dies, but there is a chance of it. And he is bound up with the fate
of the Ring. My heart tells me that he has some part to play yet, for good or ill, before the end; and when that
comes, the pity of Bilbo may rule the fate of many - yours not least."
"For I am Saruman the Wise, Saruman Ring-maker, Saruman of Many Colours!"
I looked then and saw that his robes, which had seemed white, were not so, but were woven of all colours,
and if he moved they shimmered and changed hue so that the eye was bewildered.
"I liked white better," I said.
"White!" he sneered. "It serves as a beginning. White cloth may be dyed. The white page can be overwritten;
and the white light can be broken."
"In which case it is no longer white," said I. "And he that breaks a thing to find out what it is has left the
path of wisdom."
Upon the hearth the fire is red,
Beneath the roof there is a bed;
But not yet weary are our feet,
Still round the corner we may meet
A sudden tree or standing stone
That none have seen but we alone.
Tree and flower and leaf and grass,
Let them pass! Let them pass!
Hill and water under sky,
Pass them by! Pass them by!
Still round the corner there may wait
A new road or a secret gate,
And though we pass them by today,
Tomorrow we may come this way
And take the hidden paths that run
Towards the Moon or to the Sun.
Apple, thorn and nut and sloe,
Let them go! Let them go!
Sand and stone and pool and dell,
Fare you well! Fare you well!
Home is behind, the world ahead,
And there are many paths to tread
Through shadows to the edge of night,
Until the stars are all alight.
Then world behind and home ahead,
We'll wander back to home and bed.
Mist and twilight, cloud and shade,
Away shall fade! Away shall fade!
Fire and lamp, and meat and bread,
And then to bed! And then to bed!
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| John R. R. Tolkien, Herr Glück. | John R. R. Tolkien, Der Herr der Ringe. 3 Bde. | Michail Bulgakov, Farmer Giles of Ham. And Other Stories. |