Thorin

— Where did you go to, if I may ask?
— To look ahead.
— What brought you back?
— Looking behind.

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

Loyalty, honor, a willing heart. I can ask no more than that.

— 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.

If more people valued home above gold this world would be a merrier place.

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

— I cannot guarantee his safety.
— Understood.
— Nor will I be responsible for his fate.

— 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. And that's why I came back. Because you don't have one. A home. It was taken from you. But I will help you take it back if I can.

— Did he offer you a deal?
— He did. I told him he could go ish kakhfe ai-'d dEIr-rugnu! Him and all his kin!

— What were you doing? You nearly got yourself killed! Did I not say that you would be a burden? That you would not survive in the Wild? That you had 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.

— My people offered you help. And in return, you brought upon them only ruin and death.
— When did Lake-town come to our aid but for the promise of rich reward?
— A bargain was struck!
— A bargain? What choice did we have but to barter our birthright for blankets and food? To ransom our future in exchange for our freedom? You call that a fair trade?

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...

We are sons of Durin. And Durin's Folk do not flee from a fight!