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"I don't know what more to say, Lily," said Posco. "My home is something I can't put into words."
He paused, and he looked about him, gazing over the rolling hills of the Shire, and then his face brightened. "Sitting up in this tree, Lily, with the leaves touching your cheeks and the breeze making musical rustles up in these branches, and the sun and clouds above you, and the grass waving below you, and the flowers with all their reds, purples, blues, and yellows... well, what does it make you think of? That's what my home is, Lily."
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