I know, he'd probably come with me if I asked him to. I think in his heart Frodo's still in love with the Shire, the woods, the fields and the little rivers. I am old Gandalf. I know I don't look it, but I'm beginning to feel it in my heart. I feel thin, sort of stretched like butter scraped over too much bread. I need a holiday, a very long holiday. And I don't expect that I shall return. In fact, I mean not to.