I have thought oor Kornies
I have thought
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I have thought
Pyth esowgh hwi ow hwilas?langbot langbot
I have thought
Yth esov vy ow megi.langbot langbot
I have thought of doing a thing,
Pyth es’ta ow hwilas?langbot langbot
Sam fell on his knees, trembling. ‘Get up, Sam!’ said Gandalf. I have thought of something better than that. Something to shut your mouth, and punish you properly for listening. You shall go away with Mr. Frodo!’
Yw res dhymm dybri ganso?langbot langbot
‘Well, I’ve made up my mind, anyway. I want to see mountains again, Gandalf, mountains, and then find somewhere where I can rest. In peace and quiet, without a lot of relatives prying around, and a string of confounded visitors hanging on the bell. I might find somewhere where I can finish my book. I have thought of a nice ending for it: and he lived happily ever after to the end of his days. ‘
Ingo a’s kar.langbot langbot
I have some sweet thoughts of home and when I hear that old song Home Sweet Home I think how true the poet was when he said sweet thoughts can never die...”
Ny wor den vyth hy hanow.langbot langbot
‘Of course, I have sometimes thought of going away, but I imagined that as a kind of holiday, a series of adventures like Bilbo’s or better, ending in peace. But this would mean exile, a flight from danger into danger, drawing it after me. And I suppose I must go alone, if I am to do that and save the Shire. But I feel very small, and very uprooted, and well - desperate. The Enemy is so strong and terrible.’
Yw hemma dha erlyver?langbot langbot
‘I should like to save the Shire, if I could - though there have been times when I thought the inhabitants too stupid and dull for words, and have felt that an earthquake or an invasion of dragons might be good for them. But I don’t feel like that now. I feel that as long as the Shire lies behind, safe and comfortable, I shall find wandering more bearable: I shall know that somewhere there is a firm foothold, even if my feet cannot stand there again.
Yw res dhymm dybri ganso?langbot langbot
‘I have been so taken up with the thoughts of leaving Bag End, and of saying farewell, that I have never even considered the direction,’ said Frodo. ‘For where am I to go? And by what shall I steer? What is to be my quest? Bilbo went to find a treasure, there and back again; but I go to lose one, and not return, as far as I can see.’
Prag y fynn'ta kewsel orth Tom?langbot langbot
‘Hobbits!’ he thought. ‘Well, what next? I have heard of strange doings in this land, but I have seldom heard of a hobbit sleeping out of doors under a tree. Three of them! There’s something mighty queer behind this.’ He was quite right, but he never found out any more about it.
Da yw genev viajya.langbot langbot
Frodo sat for a while in thought. ‘I have made up my mind,’ he said finally. ‘I am starting tomorrow, as soon as it is light. But I am not going by road: it would be safer to wait here than that. If I go through the North-gate my departure from Buckland will be known at once, instead of being secret for several days at least, as it might be. And what is more, the Bridge and the East Road near the borders will certainly be watched, whether any Rider gets into Buckland or not. We don’t know how many there are; but there are at least two, and possibly more. The only thing to do is to go off in a quite unexpected direction.’
Ev a drig y'n kommol.langbot langbot
Gandalf looked at Frodo, and his eyes glinted. I knew much and I have learned much,’ he answered. ‘But I am not going to give an account of all my doings to you. The history of Elendil and Isildur and the One Ring is known to all the Wise. Your ring is shown to be that One Ring by the fire-writing alone, apart from any other evidence.’ ‘And when did you discover that?’ asked Frodo, interrupting. ‘Just now in this room, of course,’ answered the wizard sharply. ‘But I expected to find it. I have come back from dark journeys and long search to make that final test. It is the last proof, and all is now only too clear. Making out Gollum’s part, and fitting it into the gap in the history, required some thought. I may have started with guesses about Gollum, but I am not guessing now. I know. I have seen him.’
Ple’ma’n re erel?langbot langbot
clue n. thought tibyas ~ tibyans m. -ow; as guide gidyans m.; trace, print, indication ol m. -ow JK, JB, WJ; phr. I have not got a c. na wörama tabm veth
Ple y’n gwelydh?langbot langbot
Apart from this half-forgotten lecture in jungle warfare, my only knowledge of military tactics came from reading (in Latin) about Rome’s wars with Carthage. Naturally, I still thought of Hannibal as a ‘gun’ General but, given that I didn’t have ready access to any battle elephants, I thought the valuable lessons I had learned from this reading were likely to be of limited use in dealing with the zombie apocalypse – or, for that matter, with any counter-offensive that might then be under weigh. After playing in my mind with the remembered fragments of the lecture from the reg, I turned to David – who had just listened to the radio with me. (Mildly interested – comprehension? I guess next to zero.) “Okay, David, we can forget about Hannibal,” I commenced (David had studied Latin as well). “Let’s think about our time together in the cadets. If the Army was going to form a defensive perimeter around the docklands area, how would they go about it? How far from the docks would they place the perimeter? As far as Central Melbourne? As far as here, at the university?” Naturally, he didn’t answer me. I was just using him as a sounding board. His eyes, however, did seem to look at me quizzically – if dead eyes could ever do that. We still sat in the Activities Office, each of us on one side of the desk upon which sat the transistor radio, currently our portal to the outside world. We sat for a while staring at one another – my mind was racing. His mind ....? Well, I didn’t know what was going on in there - maybe more than I realised. This moment of quiet reflection was abruptly interrupted: ‘Gween’, the zombies’ pet cat, had apparently wandered by and decided to join the party. (She obviously had the run of the building and feared none of its current residents.) She leapt nimbly onto the desk, rubbed against my unprotected arm, bit it sharply and then sauntered over to David as if nothing had happened. The wretch! David, of course, took the furry beast into his arms and clumsily started petting it. In return, the mainly black animal miaowed its appreciation at him, in a decidedly cutesy fashion, and started to purr loudly. After looking adoringly into my brother’s dead eyes for a time, Gween turned her face to me and hissed with apparent conviction.
Ny allav vy dybri kig.langbot langbot
‘Bilbo knew no more than he told you, I am sure,’ said Gandalf. ‘He would certainly never have passed on to you anything that he thought would be a danger, even though I promised to look after you. He thought the ring was very beautiful, and very useful at need; and if anything was wrong or queer, it was himself. He said that it was “growing on his mind”, and he was always worrying about it; but he did not suspect that the ring itself was to blame. Though he had found out that the thing needed looking after; it did not seem always of the same size or weight; it shrank or expanded in an odd way, and might suddenly slip off a finger where it had been tight.’
Gorthargyadow yw an govyn ma.langbot langbot
I thought back to the time I was a kid, singing silly songs with my sister and my dad about traffic lights, apples, cakes, and about the feelings that I have when I sing the same silly songs with my son.
Ple y’n gwelowgh?langbot langbot
I thought back to the time I was a kid, singing silly songs with my sister and my dad about traffic lights, apples, cakes, and about the feelings that I have when I sing the same silly songs with my son.
Ny wonn.langbot langbot
Just down the road, the University Café (not as popular as Tamani’s) was in better shape and so I cheerfully got into their cupboards and fridge to stock up on essential items. I took mainly stuff that was in tins and cans so that it would last. They had a stock of tinned hams and plum puddings, apparently left over from Christmas. Fine by me – so I took as many as I could carry in the back- pack I retrieved along the way. (Don’t ask me who was wearing it at the time – they weren’t going to need it again, I promise you.) I tried to encourage David to share the load with me – I even found another back-pack for him. But he was having none of it. Apparently, zombies don’t do the beast-of-burden thing. (A fact well worth remembering, I’m sure.) In any event, David was getting twitchy again. At first, I thought it must have been hunger (oh no!) but he was just bored. I offered him an apple that I had just swiped from the University Café. He snatched at it and threw it away in disgust. (What had I been thinking? Fruit? For a zombie?) So, I selected another from a nearby basket and bit into it. It wasn’t that fresh – it had been sitting around for over a week – but it was okay (and, unlike the pancakes, it didn’t make me throw up.) How to avoid going back to Union House – that was the pressing problem. Where would any self-respecting zombie prefer to go – other than a charnel house full of zombies (and one psychopathic cat)? Then it struck me: “Hey, Dave! Wanna go to the cemetery? You know, the big one that’s just near here?” He stopped twitching. That was a good sign. But did he know what I was talking about? Possibly, he did. Zombie intelligence is not an easy thing to understand – and, in David’s case, it was complicated by the fact (as I knew) that he could tap into my own mind to boost whatever wit he had been left with following his death. I was like a poorly connected hard-drive, I suppose (though hard-drives, external or otherwise, were unheard of at that time).
My a vynn triga.langbot langbot
Though we could not yet see it, I guessed that a heavy machine gun had been placed opposite the exit and it was systematically mowing down the beasts who were trying to escape that way. Abruptly, the helicopter gunships departed – for no reason that was readily discernible. “That can’t be good,” I thought. “Why would these most potent weapons suddenly leave the field of battle with the job not yet done?”(Vercingetorix’ mistake?) The chatter of other machine guns started up, further away, on both sides of the campus – and, faintly, others more distant than that. I guessed that all exits from the campus had now been blocked. Somehow, the zombies had been herded here (how?) and, now that the acres that comprised the main campus of Melbourne University were full to bursting point with tens of thousands of them, the trap had been snapped shut. There was no escaping and they were being wiped out from the air and from the ground. “That’s one way of clearing a route from the port,” I thought. I supposed that’s what they were doing – but who could know for sure? The zombies who had pressed forward to the exit – and had not yet been cut down in the hail of bullets – started to retreat, back in the direction of the cricket oval. This made for an even greater crush of panicky bodies. Then came a growing rumble from the air. None of the zombies paid it any heed – but I recognised what it was. Little wonder that the helicopter gunships had moved away. They were making way for a far more potent weapon in the form of an approaching jet plane. Not good news. For a moment, I naively thought it might have been a passenger service but, of course, it was not. The sound of the jet engine was quite different. Though I could not see it, the rate at which the rumble was growing suggested the plane was flying fast and low. Time for ‘Plan B’. I tugged on David’s hand and roughly pulled him sideways – out of the main flow of the throng and towards the rounded tower of St. Hilda’s college. Within a few short seconds, there was a blinding flash and a deafening ‘foomph!’
Melyn yw an howl.langbot langbot
‘Oh no!’ said Merry. ‘Don’t worry about that! The secret won’t keep for long, of course; but at present it is, I think, only known to us conspirators. After all, you must remember that we know you well, and are often with you. We can usually guess what you are thinking. I knew Bilbo, too. To tell you the truth, I had been watching you rather closely ever since he left. I thought you would go after him sooner or later; indeed I expected you to go sooner, and lately we have been very anxious. We have been terrified that you might give us the slip, and go off suddenly, all on your own like he did. Ever since this spring we have kept our eyes open, and done a good deal of planning on our own account. You are not going to escape so easily!’
A yllowgh hwi gweles an lymnans?langbot langbot
‘Behind that there was something else at work, beyond any design of the Ring-maker. I can put it no plainer than by saying that Bilbo was meant to find the Ring, and not by its maker. In which case you also were meant to have it. And that maybe an encouraging thought.’
My re bia owth eva.langbot langbot
2 CORINTHIANS 9 1There is no need for me to write to you about this service to the Lord’s people. 2For I know your eagerness to help, and I have been boasting about it to the Macedonians, telling them that since last year you in Achaia were ready to give; and your enthusiasm has stirred most of them to action. 3But I am sending the brothers in order that our boasting about you in this matter should not prove hollow, but that you may be ready, as I said you would be. 4For if any Macedonians come with me and find you unprepared, we—not to say anything about you—would be ashamed of having been so confident. 5So I thought it necessary to urge the brothers to visit you in advance and finish the arrangements for the generous gift you had promised. Then it will be ready as a generous gift, not as one grudgingly given. Generosity Encouraged 6Remember this: Whoever sows sparingly will also reap sparingly, and whoever sows generously will also reap generously. 7Each of you should give what you have decided in your heart to give, not reluctantly or under compulsion, for God loves a cheerful giver. 8And God is able to bless you abundantly, so that in all things at all times, having all that you need, you will abound in every good work. 9As it is written: “They have freely scattered their gifts to the poor; their righteousness endures forever.” 10Now he who supplies seed to the sower and bread for food will also supply and increase your store of seed and will enlarge the harvest of your righteousness. 11You will be enriched in every way so that you can be generous on every occasion, and through us your generosity will result in thanksgiving to God. 12This service that you perform is not only supplying the needs of the Lord’s people but is also overflowing in many expressions of thanks to God. 13Because of the service by which you have proved yourselves, others will praise God for the obedience that accompanies your confession of the gospel of Christ, and for your generosity in sharing with them and with everyone else. 14And in their prayers for you their hearts will go out to you, because of the surpassing grace God has given you. 15Thanks be to God for his indescribable gift!
Yma va ow ponya.langbot langbot
Within a minute or two, the rapid breathing was not enough and my lungs began to burn. There was a sudden and enormous weight on my limbs – and a sensation of heat within my brain. Trickles of sweat began to run from my brow. I could no longer cry out – my voice failed. Or maybe I just did not have the breath to drive it anymore. Don’t know. Don’t want to think about it. “Shit,” I thought. “This is not good.” (Or words to that effect.) Then my ears began to ring loudly. I had never experienced any sort of tinnitus before then but it has remained with me ever since. Something got damaged, I suppose. Nerves? Ear-drums? Finally, my vision. Just as when I had been trying to escape capture at Castlemaine, my field of vision narrowed to a tight circle and time seemed to slow. But, this time, it was quite different. That constrained circular field of vision did not stay put. It just kept tightening and the darkness deepened and closed in around it. With my final breath, I tried to scream – but failed. There was then a massive weight sitting directly on my chest. I could no longer breathe. In the end, my field of vision sharpened to a point and my lungs screamed louder than my voice could ever have. “It’s like running that final mile of a marathon – over and over again,” said an unknown male voice. Then, nothing.
Na skrifis, ny’n skrifis.langbot langbot
Lovely! I had chosen well. Then a slight movement in the afternoon shadows. David didn’t see it at first – zombies have poor eyesight, remember? “Whoever or whatever you are,” I thought, “for God’s sake, stay still.” It didn’t. This time, David spotted the movement and immediately let out an almighty bellow. He broke free of my grip and was off in hot pursuit. The small figure ran for all it was worth – and I set off after both of them, cursing loudly. David’s zombie blood was up. (Oh, I forgot, they don’t have blood, do they? Hmm. Maybe they’ve got blood but it just doesn’t move about much – what with no beating heart and all.) Anyway, the chase was on. Both David and the small, retreating figure were vaulting tombstones and dodging around pencil-pine trees. David was gaining in the pursuit but not a lot – though both were definitely leaving me behind. I noticed the small figure was headed to where I’d been taking David anyway, one of the large family crypts. David roared and the small figure ‘squealed like a little girlie’ – though I was reasonably sure it was not a girl. It didn’t seem to move like a girl. In fact, though male, it seemed to be a dwarf of some kind. “Open the fucking door!” it screamed as it ran. “Paul! Get the door open now! There’s a fucking zombie!” Yes, definitely male – and familiar, definitely familiar. “Paul”, whoever he was, was too slow. The door of the crypt remained firmly closed as the small male reached it – and, within seconds, David fell upon him with a triumphant roar. “Oh, shit,” I thought. “David’s just caught lunch.” And I knew, from what had happened to Meryl yesterday, there was not a thing I could do to prevent David’s mealtime from taking its tragic course.
Kas yw genev ow gols.langbot langbot
‘I have only just remembered, sir. It was like this: when I got back to our hole yesterday evening with the key, my dad, he says to me: Hello, Sam! he says. I thought you were away with Mr. Frodo this morning. There’s been a strange customer asking for Mr. Baggins of Bag End, and he’s only just gone. I’ve sent him on to Bucklebury. Not that I liked the sound of him. He seemed mighty put out, when I told him Mr. Baggins had left his old home for good. Hissed at me, he did. It gave me quite a shudder. What sort of a fellow was he? says I to the Gaffer. I don’t know, says he; but he wasn’t a hobbit. He was tall and black-like, and he stooped aver me. I reckon it was one of the Big Folk from foreign parts. He spoke funny.
My a bren paperyow-nowodhow pub dydh.langbot langbot
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