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Gentlemen, we do not stop till nightfall.

What about breakfast?

You've already had it.

We've had one, yes. What about second breakfast?

[Aragorn turns and walks away]

I don't think he knows about second breakfast, Pip.

What about elevenses? Luncheon? Afternoon tea? Dinner? Supper? He knows about them, doesn't he?

I wouldn't count on it.

Lembas! One small bite is enough to fill the stomach of a grown man!

[to Pippin] How many did you eat?

Four.

We have just agreed...

Yes?

I have told your names to the Entmoot, and we have agreed you are not Orcs.

Well, that's good news.

The fires of Isengard will spread, and the forests of Tuckborough and Buckland will burn. And all that was once great and good in this world will be gone. There won't be a Shire, Pippin.

The closer we are to danger, the farther we are from harm. It's the last thing he'll expect.

Are you mad? We will be caught for sure.

No, we won't. Not this time.

We're not Orcs! We're Hobbits!

Hobbits? Never heard of a Hobbit before. Sounds like Orc mischief to me!

A mug of ale in my hand, putting my feet up on a settle after a hard day's work.

Only, you've never done a hard day's work.