Thread:Cdragon13/@comment-29331244-20140222034211

Far over the misty moutain cold. To dungeons deep, and caverns old. We must away ere break of day. To seek the pale enchanted gold.

With the past long and dark as the beard on my face. I lead companies of dwarves at a frivolous pace. Until Erebor's mine again, We take no break. The son of thrain, straight lays battlefield to waste.

With the blade of deadless and my shield of oak. And blood from every orc's throat strain on my thick coat.

I'll rise !

From Smaug's final breathe of smoke and take back my gold. Leave him desolate and broke. But I can't assume my throne in my underground court Without aid of a theif.

Who I ironically dwarf, Hey yo, Bilbo Yeah? You got stink? Oh yeah ! Found your courage? Hell yeah ! And that ring? Uhh what? 