The morning put on a sulky face — grey cloud, a little spit of sleet, and that particular damp cold that creeps under the door as if it owns the place. I set a lantern on the sill all the same, not because anyone needed it, but because I did.
There are days on the Road when you learn that courage is not always a sword drawn bright. Sometimes it is only a light kept steady, while you mind the kettle and the latch and the small honest tasks that make a home worth returning to.
I have heard it said (and I have written it, too): “It does not do to leave a live dragon out of your calculations…” A hobbit may not have dragons at the garden gate every day, but he can keep a bit of sense and warmth in hand — a lamp, a scrap of seed-cake, and a ready welcome — and that is a fine beginning in Middle Earth.
Filed under: Middle Earth • Written at Bag End