"What are orcs!" Sam repeats, wide-eyed. "Oh, they're horrible things. They say they used to be Elves, but a less Elflike creature I've never seen. The ones we fought lived in Moria, in the dwarven ruins far beneath the mountains. They'll try to kill you soon as look at you; and they hate the sun. As for the Witch-king, well, perhaps I'd better not talk about him," he says, glancing around nervously. Talking about the Witch-king meant talking about the Nazgûl, and the Ring, and even if those weren't all terrible subjects he'd rather avoid, he has a feeling that he shouldn't talk about them, even here.

"Rogues?" he repeats, eager to get some answers of his own. "What's that mean? It don't mean you're - you're some sort of a scoundrel, does it?" he adds, with a suspicious squint. It doesn't mean to, or why would he sound so proud about it? But he's not sure what it could mean, other than that.