Я иногда выписываю цитаты - не совсем про себя, а для себя. на заметку, на память.

Well, it was no tragedy not to connect to someone. The wide world was full of people Bilbo could not connect with, and he’d lived happily enough. One more to the pile made little difference to him.

На этом можно было бы закончить, но этот фик, который я у себя неделю назад - по дороге в Финку - откопал среди сохраненного еще в январе, внезапно оказался прекрасен как тысяча рассветов.

They fell back into a silence that was all the more uncomfortable for the words that had broken it. Trees. They were talking about trees. And now they weren't talking about trees which seemed worse than when they hadn't been talking about anything at all. So Bilbo cleared his throat and cast around blindly in the darkness for some burning question he had about trees. "Do you have trees?" he asked.


вообще, круто - не сразу оценила - такая жизненная ситуация! Аа то везде рассказывают, как они обо всем-всем рассказывали друг другу, и хотя так _тоже_ бывает, но нигде почти не показывают - о чем конкретно, как конкретно они говорят, и почему это так здорово и прикольно (мы все экспонируем, конечно, представляем, как здорово разговаривать с разными лю... гномами и хоббитсами). а тут - вот! им не о чем поговорить! и стремно, и надо нарушить тишину, и!

читать дальшеИ он настолько dry-witted.

“And those are the ores,” Thorin said. “Now I will walk you through the smelting process.”

Bilbo held up his hand. "Are you going to walk me through every process?"

"Yes."

"I can outrun you, you know. Your top speed is still ‘hobble.’"

"Then I can inform the rest of your company of your woeful ignorance." Had Thorin always looked so evil? "I'm sure they will be happy to assist in your education."

"I—you—that’s not fair." The thought of all thirteen dwarves teaming up to educate him on the differences between the primary, alluvial, or placer deposits of gold—Bilbo was bored just thinking about it. “Listen here,” he said, thrusting a finger at Thorin. “This is the deal. For every hour that you talk about mining, I will talk to you about my garden. Agreed?"

Thorin smirked. "You cannot have as much to say about your garden as I have about the entire craft of mining."

Bilbo laughed. Thorin looked a little alarmed. Good. Bilbo could work with that. He stuck out his hand. "Agreed?"

Ахах. Хах. Хах.

Еще прекрасных цитат.

Bombur ignored his cousin. “Thorin didn’t say. And he didn’t seem that happy about it. But he listened and he asked questions and he thanked me for the knowledge. We stopped talking when your watch was over. I suspect he wanted to surprise you with his knowledge.”

“Aww,” Ori said.

“No, not ‘aww,’” Bilbo said, running his hand through his hair. “Thorin doesn’t do things that can be cooed at. That’s not him.”

--

Proper hobbits had twelve hobbitlings and feigned a respectable ignorance about how they had all gotten there.

--

Sometimes the start of a friendship is a slow trudge, the painful process of putting one act of decency in front of the other until affection ceases to be a chore. Sometimes it creeps as quiet as a cat, so stealthy that you don’t realize it has sunk its claws into you until some quiet afternoon where the other person cancels and you wonder when your days became intolerably grey without them. And sometimes it is a keg of gunpowder, tightly packed, and a very short fuse. All you need then is the spark.

--

And then the conversation, as they are wont to do when they finally get started, took a bit of a left turn.

последнее!!

А на спойлер оОfuck marry kill мне пришлось рот рукой зажимать, чтобы не ржать в голос в маршрутке.

The Fine Art of Small Talk by Margo_Kim.

У меня спустя очень долгое время даже желание переводить появилось. ) Я пока не планирую, но во мне зашевелилось эта переводческая жажда, которая заключается в необходимости как можно ближе соприкоснуться с прекрасным.