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But who knows what she spoke to the darkness, alone, in the bitter watches of the night, when all her life seemed shrinking, and the walls of her bower closing in about her, a hutch to trammel some wild thing in?

J.R.R. Tolkien (2012). “The Return of the King: Being the Third Part of the Lord of the Rings”, p.849, Houghton Mifflin Harcourt
But who knows what she spoke to the darkness, alone, in the bitter watches of the night, when all her life seemed shrinking, and the walls of her bower closing in about her, a hutch to trammel some wild thing in?