четыре утра, а я ржу как конь... практически так же, как когда я читала "Как достать профессора Снейпа", надо сказать (на дворе было лето, и я смеялась так громко, что в итоге охранники, сидящие практически у меня под окнами, передразнивали меня).

Thorin Oakenshield's Majestic Diary

20:55. So apparently Gandalf has been hiding the key to my mountain somewhere in those ridiculous robes of his. For who knows how long. Not that this angers me, or anything.

But it might have been nice if my father had given it to me.

You know.

His son and heir.

Rather than a loopy weed-smoking wizard from Mahal knows where.

I eagerly take it off him, awed by it and the sudden wave of emotion which squeezes at my throat, when Fili graces us with a little of his unbelievable intuition.

“If there’s a key…there must be a door.”

Must resist the urge to either a) clap slowly, or b) cry because we are related.

“There’s another way in,” Kili adds helpfully, grinning like a rather slow but admittedly cheerful puppy.

Stare at them both.

Ну и так далее.
Очень прекрасно.