The dryer, cooler weather was very short-lived and the storms have returned to the Lone-lands. Strider says we will have to head back towards the Road soon, as we are getting close to the River Hoarwell, and we can only cross by the Last Bridge. We must be very wary, as the Black Riders may be waiting to ambush us there.
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"How far is Rivendell?" asked Merry, gazing round wearily. The world looked wild and wide from Weathertop.
"I don't know if the Road has ever been measured in miles beyond the 'Forsaken Inn', a day's journey east of Bree," answered Strider. "Some say it is so far, and some say otherwise. It is a strange road, and folk are glad to reach their journey's end, whether the time is long or short. But I know how long it would take me on my own feet, with fair weather and no ill fortune: twelve days from here to the Ford of Bruinen, where the Road crosses the Loudwater that runs out of Rivendell. We have at least a fortnight's journey before us, for I do not think we shall be able to use the Road."
"A fortnight!" said Frodo. "A lot may happen in that time."
"It may," said Strider.
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"It's impossible to have Frodo without Sam, or Sam without Frodo. They're like two halves of one heart..."
"If your hurts grieve you still and the memory of your burden is heavy, then you may pass into the West..."
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