3بخش

Enough!

If I say Bilbo Baggins is a burglar, then a burglar he is.

Hobbits are remarkably light on their feet.

ln fact, they can pass unseen by most, if they choose.

And, while the dragon is accustomed to the smell of Dwarf the scent of a Hobbit is all but unknown to him which gives us a distinct advantage.

You asked me to find the 14th member of this company and I have chosen Mr. Baggins.

There’s a lot more to him than appearances suggest.

And he’s got a great deal more to offer than any of you know.

Including himself.

You must trust me on this.

Very well.

We will do it your way.

No, no.

THORIN: Give him the contract.

We’re in.

We’re off.

BALIN: It’s just the usual.

Summary of out-of-pocket expenses.

time required, remuneration.

funeral arrangements, so forth.

Funeral arrangements?

I cannot guarantee his safety.

Understood.

Nor will I be responsible for his fate.

Agreed.

“Terms: Cash on delivery, up to but not exceeding one-fourteenth of total profit, if any.”

Hmm.

Seems fair.

“Present company shall not be liable for injuries inflicted by or sustained as a consequence thereof, including, but not limited to lacerations evisceration.”

Incineration?

Aye.

He’ll melt the flesh off your bones in the blink of an eye.

You all right, laddie?

Huh?

Yeah.

Feel a bit faint.

Think furnace with wings.

BILBO: Air.

I need air.

Flash of light, searing pain, then poof.

You’re nothing more than a pile of ash.

BILBO: Hmm.

Nope.

GANDALF: Oh, very helpful, Bofur.

I’ll be all right.

Just let me sit quietly for a moment.

You’ve been sitting quietly for far too long.

Tell me, when did doilies and your mother’s dishes become so important to you?

I remember a young Hobbit who was always running off in search of Elves in the woods.

Who would stay out late, come home after dark trailing mud and twigs and fireflies.

A young Hobbit who would have liked nothing better than to find out what was beyond the borders of the Shire.

The world is not in your books and maps.

It’s out there.

I can’t just go running off into the blue.

I am a Baggins of Bag-end.

You are also a Took.

Did you know that your great-great-great-great-uncle Bullroarer Took was so large, he could ride a real horse?

Yes.

Yes, well, he could.

ln the Battle of Green Fields, he charged the Goblin ranks.

He swung his club so hard, it knocked the Goblin king’s head clean off and it sailed 1 00 yards through the air and went down a rabbit hole.

And thus, the battle was won.

And the game of golf invented at the same time.

I do believe you made that up.

Well, all good stories deserve embellishment.

You’ll have a tale or two to tell of your own when you come back.

Can you promise that I will come back?

No.

And if you do you will not be the same.

That’s what I thought.

Sorry, Gandalf, I can’t sign this.

You’ve got the wrong Hobbit.

lt appears we have lost our burglar.

Probably for the best.

The odds were always against us.

After all, what are we?

Merchants, miners tinkers, toy-makers.

Heh, heh.

Hardly the stuff of legend.

There are a few warriors amongst us.

Old warriors.

I would take each and every one of these Dwarves over an army from the lron Hills.

For when I called upon them, they answered.

Loyalty, honor a willing heart.

I can ask no more than that.

You don’t have to do this.

You have a choice.

You’ve done honorably by our people.

You have built a new life for us in the Blue Mountains.

A life of peace and plenty.

A life that is worth more than all the gold in Erebor.

From my grandfather to my father, this has come to me.

They dreamt of the day when the Dwarves of Erebor would reclaim their homeland.

There is no choice, Balin.

Not for me.

Then we are with you, laddie.

We will see it done.

Far over the misty mountains cold

To dungeons deep

And caverns old

We must away

‘Ere break of day

To find our long-forgotten gold

The pines were roaring on the height

The winds were moaning in the night

The fire was red, it flaming spread

The trees like torches blazed with light

Hello?

Yes.

Here, Mr. Bilbo, where are you off to?

Can’t stop, I’m already late!

Late for what?

I’m going on an adventure!

DORI: I said it.

Didn’t I say it?

Coming here was a waste of time.

GLOIN: That’s true enough.

DORI: Ridiculous notion.

Use a Hobbit?

A Halfling?

Whose idea was it anyway?

BILBO: Wait!

Wait!

THORIN: Whoa, whoa.

Whoa, whoa.

I signed it.

Here.

BALIN: Everything appears to be in order.

Welcome, Master Baggins to the company of Thorin Oakenshield.

Give him a pony.

No, no, that won’t be necessary.

Thank you.

I’m sure I can keep up on foot.

I’ve done my fair share of walking holidays, you know?

Even got as far as Frogmorton once.

Aah!

OIN: Come on, Nori.

Pay up.

KILI: One more.

OIN: Thanks, lad.

What’s that about?

Oh, they took wagers on whether or not you’d turn up.

Most of them bet that you wouldn’t.

And what did you think?

Well.

My dear fellow, I never doubted you for a second.

It’s horse hair.

Having a reaction.

No, wait, wait, stop.

Stop!

We have to turn around.

GANDALF: What on earth is the matter?

I forgot my handkerchief.

BOFUR: Here.

Use this.

THORIN: Move on.

GANDALF: You’ll have to manage without pocket handkerchiefs and a good many other things, Bilbo Baggins before we reach our journey’s end.

You were born to the rolling hills and little rivers of the Shire.

But home is now behind you.

The world is ahead.

Hello, girl.

Who’s a good girl?

It’s our little secret, Myrtle.

You must tell no one.

Shh, shh.

What was that?

Orcs.

Orcs?

Throat-cutters.

There’ll be dozens of them out there.

The lone-lands are crawling with them.

They strike in the wee small hours when everyone’s asleep.

Quick and quiet, no screams.

Just lots of blood.

THORIN: You think that’s funny?

You think a night raid by Orcs is a joke?

We didn’t mean anything by it.

THORIN: No, you didn’t.

You know nothing of the world.

BALIN: Don’t mind him, laddie.

Thorin has more cause than most to hate Orcs.

After the dragon took the Lonely Mountain.

King Thror tried to reclaim the ancient Dwarf kingdom of Moria.

But our enemy had got there first.

Moria had been taken by legions of Orcs led by the most vile of all their race: Azog the Defiler.