Created by mic.ron33 Revised and resynced for HobAUJ.12.dvsc.avi by sadicc
My Dear Frodo.
You asked me once if I've told you everything there was to know about my... adventures.
And while I can honestly said I have told you the truth.
I may not have told you all of it.
I'm old now, Frodo.
I'm not the same hobbit I once was.
I think it is time for you to know what really happened.
It began long ago.
In the land far away to the east.
The like of which you will not find in the world today.
There was the city of Dale. Its markets known far and wide.
Full of the bounties of fine and veil. Peacefull and prosperous.
For this city lay before the doors of the greatest kingdom in middle earth.
Erebor. Stonghold of Thrór.
King under the mountain. Mightiest of the dwarf lords.
Thrór ruled with utter surety. Never doubting his house would endure.
For his line laid secure in the lives of his son and grandson.
Ah, Frodo, Erebor.
Built deep with the mountain itself, The beauty of this fortress city was legend.
Its wealth lay in the earth.
Imprecious gem, fumed from rock, and in great seems of gold,
Running like rivers through stone.
The skill of the dwarves was unequaled.
Fashioning objects of great beauty .
Out of diamond, emerald, ruby and sapphire.
Ever they dwelved deeper, down into the dark.
And that is where they found it.
The heart of the mountain.
The Arkenstone.
Thrór named it 'The King's Jewel'.
He took it as a sign, a sign that his right to rule was divine.
All would pay homage to him, even the great elven king Thranduil.
But the years of peace and plenty were not to last.
Slowly the days turned sour, and the watchful nights closed in.
Thrór's love of gold had grown too fierce.
A sickness had begun to grow within him.
It was a sickness of the mind.
And where sickness thrives, bad things will follow.
The first they heard was the noise like a hurricane coming down from the north.
The pines on the mountain creaked and cracked in the hot, dry wind.
Balin, sound the alarm.
Call out the Guard, do it now! - What is it?
Dragon. Dragon!
It was a fire drake from the north.
Smaug had come.
Much wrath and death was dealt on that day.
For this city of men meant nothing to Smaug.
His eyes were set on another prize.
For dragons covet gold with a dark and fierce desire.
Erebor was lost.
For a dragon will guard his plunder, as long as he lives.
Run for your lives. Help us.
Thranduil would not risk the lives of his kin against the wrath of the dragon.
No help came from the elves that day.
Nor any day since.
Robbed of their homeland The Dwarves of Erebor wandered the wilderness.
A once mighty people robbed of all.
The young dwarf prince took work where he could find it. Laboring in the villages of men
But always he remembered the mountain smoke beneath the moon.
the trees, like torches, blazing bright.
He had seen dragon fire in the sky and the city turned to ash.
And he never forgave, and he never forgot.
That, my dear Frodo, is where I come in.
For quite by chance and the will of a wizard...
fate decided I would become part of this tale.
It began... Well, it began as you might expect.
In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit.
Not a nasty , dirty, wet hole, filled with worms and oozy smells.
This was a hobbit hole.
And that means good food, a warm hearth ...
and all the comforts of home.
Thank you.
What's this? - That is private. Keep your sticky paws off.
It's not ready yet.
Not ready for what? - Reading.
What on earth are these? - Replies to the party invitations.
Good gracious. Is it today?
They all said they are coming, except for the Sack-full Bagginses they demand that you ask them in person.
Are they indeed? Over my dead body.
They'd probably find that quite agreeable. They seem to think you have tunnels overflowing with gold.
It was one small chest. Hardly overflowing.
And it still smells of troll. - What on earth are you doing?
Taking precautions.
You know I caught her making off with our silverware once. - Who?
Lobelia Sack-full Baggins.
She had all my spoons stuffed in her pocket.
Dreadful woman. Make sure you keep an eye on her after I...
When I'm...when I'm...
When you're...what?
It's nothing. Nothing
You know, some people are beggining to wonder about you, uncle.
They think you're becoming...odd. - Odd?
Unsociable. - Unsociable? Me? Nonsense.
Be a good lad and put that on the gate.
Do you think he'll come? - Who? Gandalf.
He wouldn't miss a chance to lit off his Wizz Poppers.
He will give us quite a show. You'll see.
All right then, I'm off. - Off to where? East Farthing Woods. I'm going to surprise him.
Well go on then. You don't want to be late.
He doesn't approve of being late.
Not that I ever was. In those days I was always on time.
I was entirely respectable.
And nothing unexpected...ever happened.
Good morning. - What do you mean?
Do you mean to wish me a good morning, or is it a good morning whether I want it or not?
Or perhaps you mean to say that you feel good on this particular morning?
Or are you simply stating that this is a good morning to be good on?
All of them at once, I suppose.
Can I help you? - That remains to be seen.
I'm looking for someone to share in an adventure.
An adventure?
No, I don't imagine anyone west of Bree, would have much interest in adventures.
Nasty, disturbing...uncomfortable things.
You'd be late for dinner.
Good morning.
To think that I should have lived to be 'Good Morninged' by Belladonna Took's son...
As if I was selling buttons at the door? - Beg your pardon?
You've changed. And not entirely for the better, Bilbo Baggins.
I'm sorry. Do I know you? - Well, you know my name. Although you don't remember I belong to it.
I'm Gandalf. And Gandalf means...
Me.
Gandalf...not Gandalf, the wandering wizard who makes such excellent fireworks?
Old Took used to have them on midsummer's eve.
No idea you were still in business. - And where else should I be.
Well, I'm pleased to find you remember something about me.
Even if it's only my fireworks.
Well, that's decided. It will be very good for you.
And most amuzing for me. I shall inform the others.
Inform? The who? No! No... no, wait.
We do not want any adventures, here! Thank you, not today...
I suggest you try over the hill or across the water.
Good morning.
Dwalin, at your service.
Bilbo Baggins... at your service.
Do we know each other? - No.
Which way you laddy? Is it down here? - Is what down where?
Supper! He said there would be food.
And lots of it. - He... he said? Who said?
Very good this! Any more? - What? Oh..yes, yes.
Help yourself.
Hmm... it's just that, I wasn't expecting company.
That would be the door.
Balin, at your service. - Good evening.
Yes! Yes, it is. Although, I think it might rain later.
Am I late? - Late for what?
Evening, brother.
By my beard! You are shorter and wider than last we met. - Wider, not shorter.
Sharp enough for both of us.
Excuse me? Sorry, I hate to interrupt, but the thing is, I'm not entirely sure you're in the right house.
Have you eaten? - It's not that I don't like visitors.
I like visitors as much as the next Hobbit.
But I do like to know them before they come... visiting.
What is this? - I don't know, I just thought it was cheese, it's gone blue.
It's riddled with mold. - The thing is, I don't know either of you.
Not in the slightest. I do not mean to be blunt...
but I have to speak my mind. I am sorry.
Apology accepted. Go on now, fill it up brother. Don't stand.
Fili and Kili, at your service. - You must be Mr. Baggins.
Nope, you can't come in, you've come to the wrong house.
Has it been canceled? - No one told us.
Cancelled? No, nothing has been canceled. - That's a relief.
Careful with these, I just had them sharpened.
It's nice, this place. Did you build it yourself? - No, it's been in the family for years.
That's my mother's dowry box.* Can you please not do that?
Fili and Kili, come on. Give us a hand. - Mr. Dwalin.
We'll shove this in a hole, otherwise we'll never get everyone in.
Everyone? How many more are there? - Where do you want it?
Oh no...no, no. There's nobody home! Go away and bother somebody else.
There are far too many dwarves in my dining room as it is.
If this is some cluttered idea of a joke...
I can only say it is of very poor taste!
Gandalf.
Excuse me? Not my wine! Put that back.
Not the jam. Excuse me? Excuse me. - A tad excessive isn't it? Have you got a cheese knife?
Cheese knife? He eats it by the block. - No, that's grandpa Mungo's chair.
And so is that, take it back. That is an antique. Not for sitting on!
Excuse me, Mr. Gandalf, May I tempt you with a cup of chamomile?
Oh, no thank you, Dori. A little red wine for me, I think.
Where are the tomatoes? - Fili, Kili.
Oin, Gloin, Dwalin, Balin.
Bifur, Bofur, Bombur. Dori, Nori ...
Not my prize tomatoes. - Ori!
Yes, you're quite right, Bifur.
We appear to be one dwarf short. - He's late is all.
He traveled north to a meeting of our kin. He'll come.
Mr. Gandalf? A little glass of red wine as requested.
It has got a fruity bouquet. - Cheers.
Catch.
Who wants an Ale? Here you go.
Can I have another drink? Here you go.
Excuse me? That is a doily, not a dish rug.
But it's full of holes. - It's supposed to look like that. It's croche.
Nice, if you like it.*
Cursed these dwarves.* - My dear Bilbo, what on earth is the matter?
What's the matter? I am surrounded by dwarves. What are they doing here?
Oh, they're quite a merry gathering, once you get used to them.
I don't want to get used to them! The state of my kitchen, there's mud thrown in the carpet.*
They pillaged the pantry. I'm not even gonna tell you what they've done in the bathroom.
They've all but destroyed the plumbing. I don't understand what they're doing in my house!
Excuse me? I'm sorry to interrupt, but what should I do with my plate?
Here ya go Ori, give it to me.
That's my mother's china.* It is over 100 years old.
Can you not do that? You'll blunt them!
Did you hear that, lads? He says that we'll blunt the knives.
Blunt the knives, bend the forks trash* the bottles and burn the corks
crash* the glasses, and crack the plates, that's what Bilbo Baggins hates!
cut the cloth, trim the fat pour the milk over the kitchen floor*
bones we throw on the toilet floor*
smash the wine on every door throw the jars in a boiling bowl*
dip them down with a big stick*
when you're finished there will be a hole
let them roll in the hall*
that's what Bilbo Baggins hates!
He's here.
Gandalf, I thought you said this place would be easy to find.
I lost my way, twice. Wouldn't have found it at all had it not been for that mark on the door.
Mark? There's no mark on that door. It was painted a week ago.
There is a mark. I put it there myself.
Bilbo Baggins, allow me to introduce the leader of our company...
Thorin Oakenshield.
So, this is the Hobbit.
Tell me Mr. Baggins, have you done much fighting? - Pardon me? Axe or sword?
What's your weapon of choice?
Well, I have some skills and conquers*. If you must know.
But I fail to see why that's relevant.
Thought as much. He looks more like a grocer than a burglar.
What news from the meeting at Ered Luin? Do they all come?
Aye, envoyers* from all seven kingdoms.
What do the dwarves from the Iron Hills say? Is Dain with us?
They will not come.
They say this quest is ours, and ours alone.
You're going on a quest?
Bilbo, my dear friend, let us have a little more light.
Far to the east, over ranges and rivers ...
beyond woodlands and wastelands...
lies a single solitary peak.
The Lonely Mountain.
Oin has read the portense*, and the portense* say it is time.
Ravens have been seen flying back to the mountain, as it was foretold.
When the birds of yor return to Erebor...
the reign of the beast will end.
What beast? - That would be a reference to Smaug the Terrible.
Chiefest* and greatest calamity of our age.
Airborne fire breather. Teeth like razors and claws like meat hooks.
Extremely fond of precious metal. -Yes, I know what a dragon is.
I'm not afraid. I'm up for it. I'll give him a taste of dwarven iron right up it's jack's end.*
Sit down. - The task would be difficult enough with an army behind us.
But we number just thirteen. And not thirteen of the best...
...nor brightest. - What did you say?
We may be few in numbers, but we're fighters.
All of us, to the last one! - And you forget we have a wizard in our company. Gandalf would've killed hundreds of dragons in his time!
No, I wouldn't say. - How many then?
How many dragons have you killed?
Go on! Give us a number.
Order!*
If we have read these signs, do you not think others will have read them too?
Rumors have begun to spread. The dragon Smaug has not been seen for 60 years.
Eyes look east to the mountain assessing. Wondering, weighing the risk.
Perhaps the vast wealth of our people now lies unprotected.
Do we sit back while others claim what is rightfully ours?
Or do we seize this chance to take back Erebor?
You forget the front gate is sealed.
There is no way into the mountain. - That, my dear Balin, is not entirely true.
How came you by this? -It was given to me by your father.
By Thráin, for safekeeping.
It is yours now.
If there is a key, there must be a door.
These runes speak of a hidden passage to the lower halls.
There's another way in. -Well, if we can find it, but dwarf doors are invisible once closed.
The answer lies hidden somewhere in this map and I do not have the skill to find it, but...
There are others in Middle-earth who can.
The task I have in mind, will require a great deal of stealth and no small amount of courage.
But if we are careful and clever, it believe that it can be done.
That's why we needed a burglar. - And a good one too!
An expert, I'd imagine. - And are you?
Am I what? - He said he's an expert.
Me? No, I'm not a burglar. I've never stolen a thing in my life.
I'm afraid I'll have to agree with Mr. Baggins. He is hardly burglar material.
Aye, the wild is no place for gentle folk who can neither fight nor fend for themselves.
It's fine. - I can fight.
Enough! If I say Bilbo Baggins is a burglar, then a burglar he is.
Hobbits are remarkably light on their feet. In fact, they can pass unseen by most, if they choose.
And while the dragon is accustomed to the smell of dwarves...
...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've 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'll do it your way. Give him our contract.
It's just the usual. Summary of our pocketed 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.
Payment at delivery.* Payment no later than the fourteenth.*
No liability for injuries...*
inflicted, but not limited to lacerations...*
Evisceration?
Incineration? -Oh aye, he'll melt the flesh off your bones in the blink of an eye.
You alright laddy?
I'm feeling a bit faint. -Think furnace with wings.
I need air. - A flash of light. Searing pain and "Poof!"you're nothing more than a pile of ash.
Nope! - You were very helpful, Bofur.
I'll be alright, just...let me sit quietly for a moment. -You've been sitting quietly for far too long.
Tell me, when did doilys 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'd stay out late, came home after dark, threading mud and twigs and fireflies.
A young hobbit would love nothing more 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're also a Took.
Did you know that your great-great-great-great-uncle Bullora Took was so large...
he could ride a real horse?
At the Battle of Greenfields he charged the goblin ranks, he swang his club so hard...
it knocked the Goblin King's head clean off and it sailed 100 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 me 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.
It appears we have lost our burglar.
Probably for the best. The odds were always against us.
After all, what are we?
Merchants, miners, tinkers and toy makers.
Not really the stuff of legend. -There are a few warriors amongst us.
Old warriors.
I would take each and every one of these old dwarves over an army from the Iron Hills.
For when I called upon them, they answered.
Loyalty, honor and a willing heart.
I can ask no more than that.
You don't have to do this. You have a choice.
You have 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 the dwarves of Erebor would reclaim their homeland.
There is no choice, Balin.
Not for me.
Then we are with you, laddy.
We will see it done.
Far over the misty mountains cold
to dungeons deep
and caverns old
we must awake, at break of day
to find our long forgotten gold
the pines were roaring
on the height
the winds were mourning
in the night
the fire was red
in flamming spread
the trees like torches
ablazed with light
Hello?
Mr. Bilbo, where are you off to? -Can't stop, I'm already late.
Late for what? -I'm going on an adventure.
I told you, Do not waste time with the hobbit.
Whose idea was it anyway? -Wait.
Wait. -Woah, woah! Stop.
I've signed it.
Everything appears to be in order.
Welcome, Master Baggins, to the company of Thorin Oakenshield.
Give him a pony. -No... no, no, that won't be necessary.
I'm sure I can keep up on foot, I've done my fair share of walking holidays, you know?
Even gone as far as Formorgen once.
Come on, Nori. Pay up! -Hey! Thanks, lad.
What's that about?
Oh! They took wagers of wether or not you'd turn up.
Most of them bet that you wouldn't.
And what did you think?
My dear fella, I never doubted you for a second.
Oh, horsehair... having a reaction.
Wait, wait. Stop.
We have to turn around. - What on earth is the matter?
I've forgotten my handkerchief. - Here, use this!
Move on.
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, Myrtel. You'll tell no one.
What was that? -Orcs.
Orcs? -Throat-Cutters. There will be dozens of them out there.
The lowlands are crawiling with them. -They strike in the wee small hours when everyone is asleep.
Quick and quiet. No screams, just lots of blood.
You think that's funny?
You think a night raid by orcs is a joke?
We didn't mean anything by it.
No, you didn't. You know nothing of the world.
Don't mind him, laddy.
Thorin has more cause than most to hate Orcs.
After the dragon took the Lonely Mountain...
King Thrór tried to reclaim the ancient dwarven kingdom of Moria.
But our enemy had gotten there first.
Moriah had been taken by legions of Orcs...
led by the most vile of all there is.
Azog the Defiler.
The giant Gundabad Orc had sworn...
to wipe out the line of Durin.
He began by beheading the king.
Thráin, Thorin's father was driven mad by grief.
He went missing, taken prisoner or killed. We did not know.
We were leaderless.
Defeat and death were upon us.
That is when I saw him.
A young dwarf prince facing down The Pale Orc.
He stood alone against this terrible foe.
His armor ranked, wielding nothing but an Oaken branch as a shield.
Azog the Defiler learned that day...
that the line of Durin would not be so easily broken.
Our forces rallied and drove the Orcs back.
Our enemy had been defeated.
But there was no feast. No song that night.
For our dead were beyond the count of grief.
We few had survived.
And I thought to myself then...
there is one who I could follow.
There is one I could call King.
And the pale Orc?
What happened to him? -He crawled* back into the hole whence he came.
That filth died of his wounds long ago.
Mr. Gandalf, you can do something about this deluge?
It is raining, master dwarf. And it will continue to rain until the rain is done.
If you wish to change the weather of the world, you should find yourself another wizard.
Are there any? Other wizards. -There are five of us.
The greatest of our Order is Saruman the White.
Then there are the two blue wizards.
You know I've quite forgotten their names.
And who is the fifth? -Well that would be Radagast the Brown.
Is he a great wizard or is he... more like you?
I think he's a very great wizard. In his own way.
He is a gentle soul, who prefers the company of animals to others.
He keeps a watchful eye over the vast forest lands to the east.
And they are a good thing too, for always evil will look to find a foothold in this world.
Not good. Not good at all!
No, Sebastian.
Good gracious.
Move back! Give him some air. For goodness sake!
I don't understand why it's not working!
It's not if it's witchcraft.
Witchcraft...
Oh! But it is.
A dark and powerful magic.
Where on this good earth did those vile creatures come from?
The Old Fortress? Show me.
We camp here for the night. Fili, Kili. Look after the ponies.
Make sure you stay with them.
A farmer and his family used to live here.
Oin, Gloin. Get a fire going.
I think it would be wiser to move on.
We could make to the Hidden Valley.
I have told you already, I will not go near that place.
Why not? The Elves could help us. We could get food, rest... advice.
I do not need their advice.
We have a map that we can not read. Lord Elrond could help us.
Help?
Dragon attacks Erebor, what help came from the Elves?
Orcs plunder Moria and desecrate our sacred halls.
The Elves looked on and did nothing.
You ask me to seek out the very people who betrayed my grandfather. Who betrayed my father.
You are neither of them.
I did not give you that mountain key for you to hold on to the past.
I did not know that it was yours to keep.
Everything all right? Gandalf, where are you going?
To seek the company of the only one around here who has got any sense.
And who is that? - Myself, Mr. Baggins.
I've had enough of dwarves for one day.
Come on, Bombur. We are hungry. -Is he coming back?
He's been a long time.
Who? -Gandalf.
He's a wizard, he does what he chooses.
Here, do us a favor, take this to the lads. Stop it! You've had plenty.
What's the matter? -We're supposed to be looking after the ponies.
Only we've encountered a... slight problem. -We had 16.
Now there's... 14.
Daisy and Bungo are missing. -Well, that's not good.
And that is not good at all. -Shouldn't we tell Thorin?
No, there's no worry. -As our official burglar, we thought you might like looking into it.
Something big uprooted these trees.
That was our thinking. -And something very big and possibly quite dangerous.
Hey, there is a light.
Over here.
Stay down!
What is it? -Trolls.
He's got Myrtel and Mindy!*
I think they're gonna eat them, we have to do something. - Yes, you should.
Mountain trolls are slow and stupid, and you are so small they will never see you.
It's perfectly safe. We'll be right behind you.
If you run into trouble, hoot twice like a barn owl. Twice like a barn owl!
Twice like a barn owl, Twice like a...? Are you sure this is a good idea?
Mutton yesterday. Mutton today.
And blimey, if it don't look like mutton again tomorrow. -Quit your whining*.
These ain't sheep. These is fresh nice!
I don't like horse. I never have. Not enough fat on them.
Well it's better than the old farmer.*
All skin and bones he was. I'm still picking bits of him off me teeth.*
That's lovely that is. A floater. -Might improve the flavor!
Oh! There's more where that came from. -Oh, no you don't!
Sit down.
I hope you're gonna dunk these in eggs.* -But I like the stinky parts.*
I said sit down!
I'm starving. Are we having horse tonight or not?
Shut your cake hole. You'll eat what I give you.
How come he's the cook? Everything tastes the same.
Everything tastes like chicken. -Except the chicken. That tastes like fish!*
I'm just sayin', a little appreciation would be nice.
"Thank you very much, Bert. What a lovely stew, Bert" How hard is that?
Just needs a sprinkle of squirrel dung.
That's my grog.
Sorry.
Oh, that is beautifuly balanced that is.
... be along, eh?* Put it there.*
That's why I'm the cook.
Oh me gafs* are rumbling. I've got to snaffle something!
Flesh. I need flesh!
Bugger me!* Look what's come out of me outter!*
It's got arms and legs and everything. - What is it?
I don't know, but I don't like the way it feels real.*
What are you then? An oversized squirrel?
I'm a burglar... A Hobbit! - A burglar Hobbit?
Can we cook him? - We can try.
Ain't be more than a mouthful, not when it's skinned and boned!
Perhaps, there's more burglar Hobbits around these parts. Maybe enough for a pie!
Get him! -He's too quick!
Gotcha!
Are there any more of you little fellas hidding in this wilderness? -No...
He's lying. -No, I'm not!
Hold his toes over the fire, make him squeal!
Drop him! -You want it?
I said, drop him.
Hit them in the face!*
Bilbo. -No.
Lay down your arms, or we'll rip his off!
Do we bother cookin' them?
Let's just sit on them and squash them into jelly!
They should be salted and grilled with a sprig of sage.
That does sound quite nice.
Nevermind the seasoning. We ain't got all night.
Dawn ain't far away, let's get a move on. I don't fancy being turned to stone.
Wait, you are making a terrible mistake.
You cannot reason with them. They are halfwits! -Halfwits? What does that make us?
I meant with the uh... with the seasoning.
What about the seasoning? - Have you smelled them?
You're gonna need something stronger than seasoning before you plate this lot up.
Traitor. -What do you know about cooking dwarfs?
Shut up. Let the burglar Hobbit talk.*
The secret to cooking dwarf is uhm...
Yes? Come on, tell us the secret. -Yes. The secret is...
To skin them first! -What?
Tom, give me my fillet knife. - I'll get you!
Not gonna forget that, I won't forget!. -What a load of rubbish!
I've eaten plenty with their skins on. With skin, with boots and all!*
He's right. Nothin' wrong with a pair of raw dwarves.
Nice and crunchy. -Not that one. He's infected.
Huh? -He's got worms in his...tubes.
In fact, they all have. They are infested with parasites.
It's a terrible business, I wouldn't risk it. I really wouldn't -Did he say parasites?
We do not have parasites! You have parasites!
I've got parasites as big as my arm! -I've got the biggest parasites!
We are riddled.
What would you have us do then?
Let'em all go? -Well... You think I don't know what you're up to?
This little ferret is taking us for fools.
Ferret? -Fools?
The dawn will take you all!
Who's that? -No idea. -Can we eat him too?
Oh, get your foot outta my back!
Where did you go to if I may ask? -To look ahead.
What brought you back? -Looking behind.
Nasty business. Still the're all in one piece. -No thanks to your burglar.
He had the nack to play for time. None of the rest of you thought of that.
They must have come down from the Ettenwoods*.
Since when did mountain trolls venture this far south?
Oh, not for an age.
Not since a darker power ruled these lands.
They could not have moved in daylight.
There must be a cave nearby.
Oh,What's that stench? -It's a Trollhole.
Be careful what you touch.
Seems a shame just to leave it lying around.
Anyone can take it. - Agreed. Nori!
Get a shovel.
These swords are not made by any troll.
Nor were they made by any smith among men.
These were forged in Gondor*, by the high elves of the first age.
You could not wish for a finner blade.
We're making a long term deposit. -Let's get out of this foul place.
Come on, let's go.
Here. This is about your size.
I can't take this. -The blade is of elvish make...
which means it will glow blue when Orcs or Goblins are nearby.
I've never used a sword in my life. -And I hope you never have to.
But if you do, remember this:
True courage is about knowing not when to take a life...
but when to spare one.
Something 's coming! -Stay together.
Hurry now! Arm yourselves.
Thieves. Fire. Murder.
Radagast.
Radagast the Brown.
What on earth are you doing here? -I was looking for you, Gandalf. Something is wrong.
Something is terribly wrong. -Yes?
Just give me a minute. I had a thought, now I lost it.
It was right there, on the tip of my tongue.
Oh! It's not a thought at all. It's just a little...
stick insect.
The Greenwood is sick, Gandalf. A darkness has fallen over it.
Nothing grows anymore, at least nothing good.
The air has fowl decay, but the worst are the webs.
Webs? What do you mean? -Spiders, Gandalf.
Giant ones. Some kind of spawn of Ungoliant...
or I'm not a Wizard.
I followed their trail. They came from Dol Guldur.
Dol Guldur? But the old fortress is abandoned.
No, Gandalf.
It is not.
A dark power dwelves in there. Such as I have never felt before.
It is the shadow of an ancient horror.
One that can summon the spirits of the dead.
I saw him, Gandalf.
From out of the darkness a necromancer has come.
Quick, quick.
Wait for me.
Sorry. -try a little tube weed.*
It helps loosen your nerves.
And then blow.*
Now. A necromancer? Are you sure?
That is not from the world of the living.
Was that a wolf? Are there wolves out there? -Wolves? No, that's not a wolf.
Warg scouts. Which means an Orc pack is not far behind.
Orc pack?
Who did you tell about your quest beyond your guild? -No one.
Who did you tell? - No one, I swear.
What in Durin's name is going on? - You're being hunted.
We have to get out of here.
We can't, we have no ponies. They bolted.
I'll drawn them off.
They are Gundabad-Wargs. They'll outrun you.
These are Rhoskobel rabbits. I'd like to see them try.
Come and get me.
Come on.
Stay together. -Move!
Ori, no! Go back!
Come on quickly. Come on!
Where are you leading us?
Move. -Run!
There they are.
This way. Quickly!
There's more coming! -Kili, shoot them!
We are surrounded!
Where is Gandalf? - He's abandoned us!
Hold your ground!
Ready!
This way you fools. - Come on, move.
Quickly, all of you!
Go, go, go!
Nine, ten ...
Kili.
Elves.
I can not see where the path will lead. Do we follow it or not?
Follow it, of course.
I think that would be wise.
The valley of Imladris.
In the common tongue it is known by another name. - Rivendell.
Here lies the last holy house east of the Sea.
Was this your plan all along? To seek refuge with our enemy.
You have no enemies here, Thorin Oakenshield.
The only ill will to be found in this valley, is that which you bring yourself.
Do you think the elves will give our quest their blessing?
They will try to stop us.
Of course they will, but we have questions that need to be answered.
If are to be successful, this will need to be handled with tact and respect.
And no small degree of charm.
Which is why you will leave the talking to me.
Mithrandir. -Ah! Lindir.
Be on your guard.
- I must speak with to Lord Elrond.
My Lord Elrond is not here. -Not here?
Where is he?
Here they come! Close ranks.
Gandalf. -Lord Elrond.
Strange for orcs to come so close to our borders.
Something, or someone has drawn them near.
Ah, that may have been us.
Welcome, Thorin, son of Thrain.
I do not believe we have met. -You have your grandfather's bearing.
I knew Thror, when he ruled under the mountain. -Indeed? He did no mention of you.
What is he saying? Does he offer us insult?
No, master Gloin. He's offering you food.
Ah, well. In that case, lead on.
Try it. Just a mouthful. - I don't like green food.
Where's the meat? -Have they got any chips?
Kind of you to invite us.
I'm not really dressed for dinner. -Ah, you never are.
This is Okrist, the Goblin Cleaver.
A famous blade, forged by the high elves of the West.
My kin.
May it serve you well. And this, is Glamdring.
the Foe-Hammer. Sword of the King of Gondolin.
I wouldn't bother, laddy.
Swords are named for the great deeds they do in war.
What are you saying? My sword hasn't seen battle?
Not actually sure it's a sword. More of a letter opener really.
How did you come by these?
We found them in a Troll hole, on the great east road.
Shortly before we were ambushed by orcs.
And what were you doing on the great east road?
Our business is no concern of elves.
For Goodness' sake, Thorin, show him the map. -It is the legacy of my people.
It is mine to protect, as are it's secrets.
Save me from the stubbornness of dwarves. Your pride will be your downfall.
You stand here in the presence of one of the few in Middle-Earth who can read that map.
Show it to Lord Elrond.
Thorin, no.
Erebor.
What is your interest in this map?
It's mainly academic.
As you know, this sort of artifact sometimes contain hidden texts.
You still read ancient dwarvish, do you not?
Kirth Ithil.
Moon Runes. -Of course.
An easy thing to miss.
Well in this case that is true. Moon runes can only be read...
by the light of a moon of the same shape and season...
as the day on which they were written.
Can you read them?
These runes were written on a midsummer's eve...
by the light of a crescent moon, nearly 200 years ago.
It would seem you were meant to come to Rivendell.
Fate is with you, Thorin Oakenshield. The same moon shines upon us tonight.
"Stand by the gray stone, when the thrush knocks...
and the setting sun with the last of Durin's day...
will shine upon the keyhole. -Durin's Day?
It is the start of the dwarves' new year.
When the last moon of autumn, and the first sun of winter...
appear in the sky together. That is ill news.
The summer is passing. Durin's Day will soon be upon us.
We still have time. -Time? For what?
To find the entrance.
We have to be standing at exactly the right spot, at exactly the right time.
Then, and only then, can the door be opened.
So this is your purpose, to enter the mountain? -What of it?
There are some who would not deem it wise.
What do you mean?
You're not the only guardian to stand watch over Middle-earth.
Bombur.
With or without our help, these dwarves will march to the mountain.
They are determined to reclaim their homeland.
I do not believe that Thorin Oakenshield feels...
that he is answearable to anyone.
Nor for that matter, am I. -It is not me you must answer to.
Lady Galadriel. - Mithrandir.
I had no idea Lord Elrond had sent for you.
He didn't. I did.
Saruman. -You've been busy of late, my friend.
Tell me, Gandalf...
did you think these plans and schemes of yours would go unnoticed?
Unnoticed?
No. I'm simply doing what I feel to be right.
The dragon has long been on your mind.
That is true, My Lady. Smaug owes allegiance to no one.
But if he should side with the enemy, a dragon could be used to terrible effect.
What enemy? Gandalf, the enemy is defeated.
Sauron is vanquished. He can never regain his full strength.
Gandalf. For 400 years we have lived in peace.
A hard won, watchful peace.
Are we? Are we at peace?
Trolls have come down from the mountains. They are raiding villages, destroying farms.
Orcs have attacked us on the road. -Hardly a prelude to war.
Always you have meddled*. Looking for trouble where none exist.
Let him speak.
There is something at work beyond the evil of Smaug.
Something much more powerful.
We can remain blind to it, but it will not be ignoring us. That, I can promise you.
A sickness lies over the Greenwood. The woodsmen living there call it Mirkwood.
And they say...
Well, don't stop now. Tell us what the woodsmen say.
They speak of a necromancer in Dol Guldur.
A sorcerer who can summon the dead. - That's absurd.
No such power exists in this world.
This "Necromancer" is nothing more than a mortal man.
A conjurer dabbling in black magic. -And so I thought too.
But Radagast has seen... -Radagast.
Do not speak to me of Radagast the Brown. He is a foolish fellow.
Well, he's odd, I grant you that and lives a solitary life.
It's not that, it's his excessive consumption of mushrooms.
It addled his brains and yellowed his teeth.
I warned him. It is unbefitting for one of the Istari to be wandering the woods...
You carry something.
It came to you from Radagast.
He found it in Dol Guldur. -Yes.
Show me.
What is that?
A relic of Mordor.
A Morgul blade.
Made for the Witch-King of Angmar.
And buried with him.
When Angmar fell...
the men of the north took his body and all that he posessed...
and sealed it within the high fells* of Rhudaur.
Deep within the rock they buried him.
In a tomb so dark it would never come to light.
This is not possible.
A powerful spell lies upon those tombs, they cannot be opened.
What proof do we have that this weapon came from Angmar's grave?
I have none. -Because there is none.
Let us examine what we know.
A single Orc pack has dared to cross the Bruinen.
A dagger from the bygone age has been found.
And a human sorcerer, who calls himself "The Necromancer"...
has taken up residence in a ruined fortress.
It's not so very much after all.
The question of this dwarvish company, however, troubles me deeply.
I am not convinced, Gandalf. I do not feeel I can condone such a quest.
If they'd come to me, I might have spared them the disappointment.
I will not attempt to understand your reasons to have hopes...
They are leaving.
Yes.
You knew.
I'm afraid there is nothing else for us...
My Lord Elrond. The dwarves, they are gone.
Be on your guard. We are about to step over the edge of the wild.
Balin. You know these parts, lead on. -Alright.
Master Baggins. I suggest that you keep up.
You will follow them? -Yes.
You're right to help Thorin Oakenshield.
But I fear that this quest has set in motion forces we do not yet understand.
The riddle of the Morgul blade must be answered.
Something moves in the shadows, unseen, hidden from our sight, it will not show itself.
Not yet. But everyday it grows in strength.
You must be careful.
Mithrandir.
Why the halfling? -I do not know.
Saruman believes that it is only a great power that can hold evil in check.
But that is not what I have found.
I've found that it's the small things.
Everyday deeds of ordinary folk that keeps the darkness at bay.
Simple acts of kindness and love.
Why Bilbo Baggins?
Perhaps it is because I'm afraid.
And he gives me courage.
Do not be afraid, Mithrandir.
You're not alone.
We must find shelter. -Look out!
This is no thunderstorm. It's a thunder battle.
Look!
Well, bless me. The legends are true. Giants!
Stone Giants!
Take cover, you fool!
Watch out Kili. -Grab my hand.
Look out!
No!
No. Kili!
We're alright, we're alive!
Where is Bilbo? - Where's the Hobbit?
There.
Grab my hand! -Bilbo!
Take it!
Come on, up ya go.
I thought we lost our burglar.
He's been lost ever since he left home.
He should never have come.
He has no place amongst us.
Dwalin.
It looks safe enough. Further to the back. Caves in the mountains are seldom unnocupied.
There is nothing here.
Right then. Let's get a fire started. -No, no fires, not in this place.
Get some sleep. We start at first light.
We are to wait in the mountains until Gandalf joins us.
That was the plan. -Plan has changed.
Bofur, take the first watch.
Where do you think you're going?
Back to Rivendell. -No, you can't turn back now.
You are part of the company. You're one of us.
I'm not now, am I?
Thorin said I should never have come, and he was right.
I'm not a Took, I'm a Baggins. I don't know what I was thinking.
I should had never run out my home. -You're homesick, I understand.
No, you don't, you don't understand. None of you do.
You are dwarves. You are used to this life, to living on the road.
Never settling in one place, not belonging anywhere.
I'm sorry, I didn't...
No, you're right.
We don't belong anywhere.
I wish you all the luck in the world.
I really do.
What's that?
Wake up. Wake up!
Look out!
Get back!
Get off me!
Who would be so bold as to come armed into my kingdom?
Spies? Thieves? Assassins?
Dwarves, Your Malevolence. -Dwarves?
We found them on the front porch. -Don't just stand there. Search them!
Every crack, every crevace.
What are you doing in these parts? Speak!
Very well, if they will not talk we will make them squawk.
Bring up the Angler. Bring up the Bone Breaker.
Start with the youngest. -Wait!
Well, well, well... look who it is.
Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror.
King under the mountain.
Oh! But I'm forgetting you don't have a mountain, and you're not a king.
Which makes you, nobody really.
I know someone who would pay a pretty price for your head.
Just the head. Nothing attached.
Perhaps you know of whom I speak.
An old enemy of yours.
A pale Orc that strides a white Warg.
Azog the Defiler was destroyed.
He was slain in battle long ago.
So you think his defiling days are done? Do you?
Send word to the pale Orc. Tell him I have found his prize.
Gollum.
Goblinses.
Better than old bones, precious. Better than nothing.
Too many boneses, precious. Not enough flesh.
Shut up. Cut the skin off. Start with the head.
The cold, old knives. It cuts our heads.
It gnaws our feet.
Rocks and stones are like old bones. No brain or meat.
Cold as death, without no breath, but it is good to eat.
Precious, precious is precious. That's a meaty mouthful.
Gollum, Gollum
Back, stay back. I'm warning you.
Don't come any closer.
It's got an elvish blade, but it's not an elves.
Not an elves, no. What is it, precious?
What is it?
My name is Bilbo Baggins. - Baggingses?
What is a Baggingses, precious?
I'm a hobbit from the Shire.
Oh! We like Bagginses, batses and fishes, but we haven't tried Hobbitses before.
Is it soft, is it juicy? -Now! Now!.
I'll use this. If I have to.
I do not want trouble. Do you understand that?
Just show me the way out of here and I'll be on my way. - Why? Is it lost?
Yes, and I want to get unlost as soon as possible.
We know a safe pass for the Hobbitses. Safe pass, in the dark.
Shut up! - I didn't say anything.
I wasn't talking to you. Oh yes, we was precious, we was.
I don't know what your game is, but... -Games!
Oh, we love games, doesn't we, precious? Does it like games?
Does it like to play?
Maybe?
What has roots that nobody sees?
Is taller than trees... Up, up, up it goes.
and yet never grows?
The mountain.
Let's have another one, eh? Do it again! Do it again, ask us.
No! No more riddles.
Finish him off, finish him now! -Gollum, Gollum.
No, I want to play. I do.
I want to play. I can see you're very good at this.
Why don't we, have a game of riddles?
Just you and me.
Yes, just us.
Yes, and if I win...
you show me the way out. Yes?
And if it loses? What then?
well, if it loses, my precious, then we eat it.
If Baggings loses we eat it all.
Fair enough.
But Baggings first.
30 White horses on a red hill.
First they chomp, then they stomp, then they stand still.
Teeth? Teeth!
That's right, precious.
But we, we only have nine.
Our turn. Voiceless it cries.
Wingless flutters. Toothless bites.
Mouthless mutters.
Just a moment.
Oh! We knows! We knows! Shut up!
Wind. It's wind. Course it is.
Very clever Hobbitses. Very clever.
A box without hinges, key or lid.
Yet, a golden treasure inside is hid.
Oh...
Box. Key. Lid. -Well?
It's nasty.
Give up? -Give us a chance, precious. Give us a chance!
Eggses.
White crumpty* little eggses.
Grandma taught us to suck them. Yes!
We have one for you.
All things it devours.
Birds, beasts, trees, flowers.
Gnaws iron, bites steel...
grinds hard stone to mill.
Answer us. -Give me a moment, please. I gave you a good long while.
Beasts? I don't know this one.
Is it tasty?
Is it scrumptious?
Is it crunchy? - Let me think.
It's stuck.
Baggingses is stuck.
Time's up.
Time? Time...the answer is time.
Actually it wasn't that hard. -Last question.
Last chance.
Ask us.
Ask us! - Yes, yes, alright.
What have I got in my pocket?
That's no fair.
It's against the rules.
Ask us another one. -No, no you said, ask me a question.
Well, that is my question. What have I got in my pocket?
We can guess three times, my darling.
Three guesses, precious. You must give us three guesses. -Three guesses, very well, guess away.
Handses. -Wrong. Guess again.
Fish bones. Goblin's Teeth? Bat Wings.
Knife! Oh, shut up. -Wrong, again. Last guess.
String. Or nothing.
Two guesses at once, wrong both times.
So...
Come on then. I won the game you promised to show me the way out.
Did we say so, precious? Did we say so?
What has it got in its pocketses?
That's no concern of yours. You lost.
Lost?
Where is it?
No.
Lost. Precious, it's lost.
My precious is lost.
What have you lost? -Musn't ask us. No it's business. No.
Gollum.
What has it got...
in its nasty, little pocketses?
It stole it.
It stole it!
enemies are defeated* the following we hang on*
We store and beech* to a few branches are hung*
they are here and are never found*
down in the deeps of Goblin Town
I know that sword. It is the Goblin Cleaver.
The Biter. The blade that sliced a thousand necks.
Crush them. Kill them.
Kill them all. Cut off his head.
Take up arms. Fight!
Fight!
He wields the Foe-Hammer.
Bright as daylight.
Follow me. Quick!
Run!
Give it to us.
It's ours.
It's ours!
Thief!
Baggins!
Charge!
Cut the ropes!
Be quick!
Jump!
You thought you could escape me?
What are you going to do now, Wizard?
That will do it.
Well, that could have been worse.
You've got to be joking.
Gandalf!
There's too many, we can't fight them. -Only light can now save us, daylight.
Come on. Here, on your feet.
Wait, my precious. Wait.
Gollum, Gollum.
Baggings! Thief!
Curse it and crush it. We hates it forever!
Five, six, seven, eight...
Bifur and Bofur. That is ten. And Fili and Kili. That is twelve.
And Bombur. That makes thirteen.
Where is Bilbo? Where is our Hobbit?
Curse the halfling.
Now he's lost? I thought he was with Dori. -Dont' blame me!
Where did you last see him? -I think I saw him slip away when they first cornered us.
What happened exactly? Tell me! -I'll tell you what happened.
Master Baggins saw his chance and he took it.
He has thought of nothing but his soft bed and his warm hearth...
since he first stepped out of his door.
We will not be seeing our Hobbit again. He's long gone.
No, he isn't.
Bilbo Baggins! I've never been so glad to see anyone in my life.
Bilbo, we had given you up. -How on earth did you get past the Goblins?
How indeed.
Oh, what does it matter? He's back.
It matters. I want to know.
Why did you come back?
Look, I know you doubt me. I know you always have.
And you're right, I often think of Bag End. I miss my books.
And my armchair and my garden.
See, that's where I belong. That's home.
That's why I came back.
You don't have one. A home.
It was taken from you.
But I will help you take it back if I can.
Out of the frying pan... -And into the fire. Run. Run!
Up onto the trees. All of you. Come on! Climb! Bilbo!
They're coming!
Azog.
It cannot be.
Fili.
Mr. Gandalf!
No!
Thorin!
Thorin?
The halfling? -It's alright. Bilbo is here.
He's quite safe.
You.
What were you doing? You nearly got yourself killed.
Did I not tell you that you would be a burden...
that you would not survive in the wild?
That you have no place amongst us.
I have never been so wrong, in all my life.
But I'm sorry I doubted you. -No, I would have doubted me too.
I'm not a hero or a warrior.
Not even a burglar.
Is that what I think it is?
Erebor.
The Lonely Mountain.
The last of the great dwarf kingdoms of Middle-Earth.
Our home.
A raven! The birds are returning to the mountain.
That, my dear Oin, is a thrush.
Well, we'll take it as a sign, a good omen.
You're right. I do believe the worst is behind us.