Caravaggio The Martyrdom of St. Matthew

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for the moment, since most of all you need to know how this thing came to you, and that will be tale enough, this is all that I will say. It was Gil-galad, Elven-king and Elendil of Westernesse who overthrew Sauron, though they themselves perished in the deed; and Isildur Elendil’s son cut the Ring from Sauron’s hand and took it there in the dark pools amid the Gladden Fields,’ he said, ‘the Ring passed out of knowledge and legend; and even so much of its history is known now only to a few, and the Council of the Wise could discover no more. But at last I can carry on the story, I think.‘Long after, but still very long ago, there lived by the banks of the Great River on the edge of Wilderland a clever-handed and quiet-footed little people. I guess they were of hobbit-kind; akin to the fathers of the fathers of the Stoors, for they loved the River, and often swam in it, or made little boats of reeds. There for his own. Then Sauron was vanquished and his spirit fled and was hidden for long years, until his shadow took shape again in Mirkwood.‘But the Ring was lost. It fell into the Great River, Anduin, and vanished. For Isildur was marching north along the east banks of the River, and near the Gladden Fields he was waylaid by the Orcs of the Mountains, and almost all his folk were slain. He leaped into the waters, but the Ring slipped from his finger as he swam, and then the Orcs saw him and killed him with arrows.’Gandalf paused. ‘And

Neiman Texas Longhorns

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South Africa with the RAF. Nonetheless it took another five years before the tale was brought to its present end; in that time I changed my house, my chair, and my , and the days though less dark were no less laborious. Then when the 'end' had at last been reached the whole story had to be revised, and indeed largely re-written backwards. And it had to be typed, and re-typed: by me; the cost of professional typing by the ten-fingered similar opinions of their works, or of the kinds of they evidently prefer. But even from the points of view of many who have enjoyed my story there is much that fails to please. It is perhaps not possible in a long tale to please everybody at all points, nor to displease everybody at the same points; for I find from the letters that I have received that the passages or was beyond my means.The Lord of the Rings has been read by many people since it finally appeared in print; and I should like to say something here with reference to the many opinions or guesses that I have received or have read concerning the motives and meaning of the tale. The prime motive was the desire of a tale-teller to try his hand at a really long story that would hold the attention of readers, amuse them, delight them, and at times maybe excite them or deeply move them. As a guide I had only my own feelings for what is appealing or moving, and for many the guide was inevitably often at fault. Some who have read the book, or at any rate have reviewed it, have found it boring, absurd, or contemptible; and I have no cause to complain, since I have

Lawrence Alma-Tadema In My Studio

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Two figures emerged from behind a nearby tree: Their wands flared, and Harry saw Yaxley and Dolohov peering into the darkness, directly at the place Harry, his mother and father and Sirius and Lupin stood. Apparently they could not see anything.
　　　He and Dolohov turned and walked deeper into the forest. Harry followed them, knowing that they would lead him exactly where he wanted to go. He glanced sideways, and his mother smiled at him, and his father nodded encouragement. 　　　They had traveled on mere minutes when Harry saw light ahead, and Yaxley and Dolohov stepped out into a clearing that Harry knew had been the place where the monstrous Aragog had once lived. The remnants of his vast
"Definitely heard something," said Yaxley. "Animal, d'you reckon?"

　　　"That head case Hagrid kept a whole bunch of stuff in here," said Dolohov, glancing over his shoulder.

Yaxley looked down at his watch.

"Time's nearly up. Porter's had his hour. He's not coming."

"Better go back," said Yaxley. "Find out what the plan is now."

Cezanne Road at Pontoise

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She had pulled Ron behind a tapestry. They seemed to be wrestling together, and for one mad second Harry thought that they were

embracing again; then hhe saw that Hermione was trying to restrain
But Harry knew how Ron felt: Pursuing another Horcrux could not bring the satisfaction of revenge; he too wanted to fight, to punish them, the people who had killed Fred, and he wanted
Ron, to stop him running after Percy.

"Listen to me--LISTEN RON!"

"I wanna help--I wanna kill Death Eaters--"

His face was contorted, smeared with dust and smoke, and he was

"ron, we're the only ones who can end it! Please--ron--we need the

snake, we've got to kill the snake!" said Hermione.

Romanello Country Reverie

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He pulled the diadem from his wrist and held it up. It was still hot, blackened with soot, but as he looked at it closely he was just able to make out the tiny words etched upon it; WIT BEYOND MEASURE IS MAN'S GREATEST TREASURE.
"Sorry?" 　　　"Fiendfyre – cursed fire – it's one of the substances that destroy Horcruxes, but I would never, ever have dared use it, it's so dangerous – how did Crabbe know how to – ?"
　　　A bloodlike substance, dark and tarry, seemed to be leaking from the diadem. Suddenly Harry felt the thing vibrate violently, then break apart in his hands, and as it did so, he thought he heard the faintest, most distant scream of pain, echoing not from the grounds or the castle, but from the thing that had just fragmented in his fingers.

　　　"It must have been Fiendfyre!" whimpered Hermione, her eyes on the broken piece.

Kahlo Self Portrait 1922

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sunset. the landscape seemed to grow larger and more detailed as he squinted over the side of the dragon, and he wondered whether it had divined the presence of fresh water by the flashes of reflected sunlight.

　Lower and lower the dragon flew, in great spiraling circles, honing in, it seemed, upon one of the smaller lakes.

　"I say we jump when it gets low enough!" Harry called back to the others. "Straight into the water before it realizes we're here!"

　He slithered over the side of the dragon and plummeted feetfirst toward the surface of the lake; the drop was greater than he had estimated and he hit the water hard, plunging like a stone into a freezing, green, reed-filled world. He kicked toward the surface and emerged, panting, to see enormous ripples emanating in circles from the places where Ron and Hermione had

　They agreed, Hermione a little faintly, and now Harry could see the dragon's wide yellow underbelly rippling in the surface of the water.

"NOW!"

　

Homer Shepherdess Tending Sheep

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So, au revoir, Mr. Ollivander," said Fleur, kissing him on both cheeks. "And I wonder

whezzer you could oblige me by delivering a package to Bill's Auntie Murie!? I never

returned 'er tiara."
"And paid for by wizards," said Bill quietly, and the goblin shot him a look that was both furtive and challenging. A strong wind gusted against the cottage windows as Bill and Ollivander set off into the night. The rest of them squeezed in around the table; elbow to elbow and with barely
"It will be an honor," said Ollivander with a little bow, "the very least I can do in return

for your generous hospitality."

Fleur drew out a worn velvet case, which she opened to show the wandmaker. The tiara

sat glittering and twinkling in the light from the low-hanging lamp.

"Moonstones and diamonds," said Griphook, who had sidled into the room without Harry

noticing. "Made by goblins, I think?"