Let them come! There is one dwarf yet in Moria who still draws breath.
— Come Gimli! We are gaining on them.
— I'm wasted on cross-country. We dwarves are natural sprinters. Very dangerous we are over short distances.
— You, young rascals! A merry hunt you've lead us on, and now we find you feasting and... and smoking!
— We are sitting on the field of victory, enjoying a few well-earned comforts. The salted pork is particulary good!
The world was young, the mountains green,
No stain yet on the Moon was seen,
No words were laid on stream or stone,
When Durin woke and walked alone.
He named the nameless hills and dells;
He drank from yet untasted wells;
He stooped and looked in Mirrormere,
And saw a crown of stars appear,
As gems upon a silver thread,
Above the shadow of his head.