Sm?agol: What's it doing?! Stupid, fat hobbit! You ruins it!
Sam: What's to ruin? There was hardly any meat on them. What we need is a few good taters.
Smeagol: What's "taters", precious? What's "taters", eh?
Sam: Po-tay-toes! Boil em, mash em, stick em in a stew. Lovely big golden chips with a nice piece of fried fish.
[Sm?agol spits.]
Sam: Even you couldn't say no to that.
Smeagol: Oh yes, we could! Spoiling nice fish! Give it to us raw, and wriggling! You keep nasty chips!
Sam: ...You're hopeless.
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