![]() ![]() Tom came out of the house and waved his hat and danced upon the doorstep, bidding the hobbits to get up and be off and go with good speed. Their quiet ponies were almost frisky, sniffing and moving restlessly. After breakfast, which they again ate alone, they made ready to say farewell, as nearly heavy of heart as was possible on such a morning: cool, bright, and clean under a washed autumn sky of thin blue. Outside everything was green and pale gold. The vision melted into waking and there was Tom whistling like a tree-full of birds and the sun was already slanting down the hill and through the open window. But either in his dreams or out of them, he could not tell which, Frodo heard a sweet singing running in his mind: a song that seemed to come like a pale light behind a grey rain-curtain, and growing stronger to turn the veil all to glass and silver, until at last it was rolled back, and a far green country opened before him under a swift sunrise. Chapter 8 FOG ON THE BARROW-DOWNS That night they heard no noises. ![]()
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