pilfered_words

Yesterday, my sister and I left Faramir behind, and went –on. “It gets darker and darker from here until the end of Two Towers,” I warned her. She rolled her eyes at me and said, “No really, you think?”

It’s slow going. We got maybe 5 pages in yesterday? Just until ‘where there’s life there’s hope, and need of vittles.’ It’s dark, and difficult, and there are glimmers of hope, it’s Tolkien, but getting to them is not easy.

It’s a joy to read with S, though. She pays attention, she’s in tune with the narrative. She has a tendency of commenting on a sentence by saying something that is exactly like the next sentence Tolkien wrote. For example:

[Gollum is sleeping, Frodo and Sam aren’t.]

Me: ‘Are we rested? Have we had beautiful sleep?’ [Gollum] said. 'Let’s go!’

S: We? You mean you, Gollum.

Me [raising eyebrows]: 'We aren’t, and we haven’t,’ growled Sam.