- © Beautiful Curaçao 2013 -
- Disclaimer
- Cookieverklaring
- Tips
- Adverteren
- Contact
-
(whispering) Good riddance. Yes. Perfect. Now... clean.
He stops scrubbing. Looks at his front door.
The Dwarves have left. Bilbo stands alone in his kitchen, staring at the mess.
You heard them. They think you're a grocer. A burglar ? You can't even steal a napkin from the Green Dragon.
But... the Lonely Mountain. Smaug. Gold... No. No no no.
He puts down the plate. Grabs his coat. Puts it back. Sits. Stands. Finally, he snatches the contract off the mantle, reads the fine print.
(whispering) Good riddance. Yes. Perfect. Now... clean.
He stops scrubbing. Looks at his front door.
The Dwarves have left. Bilbo stands alone in his kitchen, staring at the mess.
You heard them. They think you're a grocer. A burglar ? You can't even steal a napkin from the Green Dragon.
But... the Lonely Mountain. Smaug. Gold... No. No no no.
He puts down the plate. Grabs his coat. Puts it back. Sits. Stands. Finally, he snatches the contract off the mantle, reads the fine print.