Bilbo Baggins

— Everything all right? Gandalf, where are you going?
— To seek the company of the only one around here who's got any sense.
— And who's that?
— Myself, Mr. Baggins.

— Good morning.
— What do you mean? Do you wish me a good morning...or do you mean that it is 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 morning to be good on? Hm? All of them at once, I suppose.

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.

— Ax or sword? What's your weapon of choice?
— Well, I do have some skill at conkers, if you must know...

— 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.

— Here, Mr. Bilbo, where are you off to?
— Can't stop, I'm already late!
— Late for what?
— I'm going on an adventure!

— Oh, I've had enough of this lippy Lakeman. I say we throw him over the side and be done with it.
— Bard, his name's Bard.
— How do you know?
— Uh, I asked him.

— It... I picked it up in Beorn's garden.
— You've carried it all this way?
— I'm gonna plant it in my garden. In Bag End.
— It's a poor prize to take back to the Shire.
— One day, it'll grow. And every time I look at it, I'll remember. Remember everything that happened, the good, the bad... and how lucky I am that I made it home.

— 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... Do 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?

— No, wait, wait, stop. Stop! We have to turn around.
— What on earth is the matter?
— I forgot my handkerchief.

No, I don't imagine anyone west of Bree would have much interest in adventures. Nasty, disturbing, uncomfortable things. Make you late for dinner.

— It's bad luck.
— I don't believe in luck. We make our own luck.

If any of you are ever passing Bag End, uh tea is at 4. There's plenty of it. You are welcome anytime.

Bilbo: — "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?
Bofur: — Aye. He'll melt the flesh off your bones in the blink of an eye.
Balin: — You all right, laddie?
Bilbo: — Huh? Yeah. Feel a bit faint.
Bofur: — Think furnace with wings.
Bilbo: — Air. I need air.
Bofur: — Flash of light, searing pain, then poof. You're nothing more than a pile of ash.
Bilbo: — Hmm. Nope.

— 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.

Today is my one hundred and eleventh birthday! Alas. Eleventy one years is far too short a time to live amongst such excellent, admirable hobbits. I don't like half of you half as well as I should like, and I like less than half of you half as well as you deserve.