The Fellowship of the Ring
Sam sat tapping the hilt of his sword as if he were counting on his fingers, and looking at the sky. "It's very strange," he murmured. "The Moon's the same in the Shire and in Wilderland, or it ought to be. But either it's out of its running, or I'm all wrong in my reckoning. You'll remember, Mr. Frodo, the Moon was waning as we lay on the flet up in that tree: a week from the full, I reckon. And we'd been a week on the way last night, when up pops a New Moon as thin as a nail-paring, as if we had never stayed no time in the Elvish country." [...]
"And perhaps that was the way of it," said Frodo. "In that land, maybe, we were in a time that is elsewhere long gone by. It was not, I think, until Silverlode bore us back to Anduin that we returned to the time that flows through mortal lands to the Great Sea. And I don't remember any moon, either new or old, in Caras Galadhon: only stars by night and sun by day."
Legolas stirred in his boat. "Nay, time does not tarry ever," he said; "but change and growth is not in all things and places alike." (2.9.65-8)