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‘… Don’t the great tales never end?’
‘No, they never end as tales,’ said Frodo.
‘But the people in them come,
and go when their part’s ended.
Our part will end later — or sooner.’
‘And then we can have some rest and some sleep,’ said Sam. He laughed grimly. ‘And I mean just that, Mr. Frodo. I mean plain ordinary rest, and sleep, and waking up to a morning’s work in the garden. I’m afraid that’s all I’m hoping for all the time. All the big important plans are not for my sort. Still, I wonder if we shall ever be put into songs or tales. We’re in one, or course; but I mean: put into words, you know, told by the fireside, or read out of a great big book with red and black letters, years and years afterwards. And people will say: «Let’s hear about Frodo and the Ring!» And they’ll say: «Yes, that’s one of my favourite stories. Frodo was very brave. wasn’t he, dad?» «Yes, my boy, the famousest of the hobbits, and that’s saying a lot.»‘
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The Stairs of Cirith Ungol
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