Late last night cracked open Memory, by Lois McMaster Bujold. Today when I picked it up for lunch I was surprised I was already 198 pages into it.
The protagonist. who normally spends every book in a headlong rush of "forward momentum", juggling situations and people while playing Xanatos Speedchess, spends the first 225 pages of this book coming to more and more of a complete stop. (Softcover page count. That's a touch less than half.)
And then on page 226 it all comes back. Very satisfying.
I'm reminded a bit that Tolkien wrote his travelogue parts to be long for the reader as well so they would have a sense of the experience. That is ... somewhat the case, but in this case each barrier, each slowing was personally important to the character - built up over all the proceeding books of the series. This, while immensely satisfyingly full of callbacks, would be a lousy first book to jump into. The callback to Mountains of Mourning had me teary-eyed again, just like when I first read that short story.