Marching, marching, marching! All day long, reduced rations, no one minding that my poor feet have to take twice as many steps as these tall men's. The orcs at least carried us half the way... We had a break and I was smoking and a lot of them gondorians gathered around me and wondered at the fire-breathing hobbit. Staring at me like I was a talking dog, or something. I told them I would turn them into frogs if they wouldn't leave me alone, and who comes then but Gandalf to give me scolding to last a month.
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Wistful, willful, wingless, fly!
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