A/N: In October, I asked readers of my LiveJournal to provide a sentence that I would use to begin a story. This story is a triple drabble (tribble!), beginning with the sentence provided by lindelea1 of LJ.
Walking
'The Road goes ever on and on...' And on and on and on... Frodo thought miserably, adjusting his pack's straps on his shoulders for the dozenth time -he was running out of unblistered shoulder- and hunching over against the wind that roamed freely over the bare hills of Hollin.
It seemed uncounted hours since they had stopped for lunch, though it was probably more like an hour, maybe two, and it would be several more until Aragorn was likely to even begin considering stopping for the day. In all of the stories Bilbo had told, he'd never mentioned the long days of walking he must have had and the mind-numbing boredom they could induce . . . though Frodo supposed that didn't make for a very good story: 'We walked all day for three days, crossed a river, then walked the next day and the next day . . .' He snorted to himself and shook his head. No, Bilbo would never mention such an unadventurous part of an adventure.
"How much farther?" Pippin asked -nay, he whined- from somewhere further back in the column. "My pack is heavy, my feet hurt, and I'm tired."
At the front of their procession, Aragorn halted, and Frodo seized the opportunity to let the straps of his pack hang from his elbows to rest his poor shoulders. He could feel Aragorn's calculating gaze sweeping over him and the other hobbits.
"If you are that weary, I suppose it wouldn't hurt to stop early today," Aragorn said slowly. "Gandalf? What do you think?"
Frodo met Gandalf's eyes hopefully. "It wouldn't hurt," Gandalf agreed.
Frodo almost felt he could dance the springle-ring in joy. Even Aragorn's pronouncement that they should continue for one hour more before halting didn't dampen his spirits. As long as an end was in sight, he could keep going.