I whisper, “Morgoth . . . they said their lord was Morgoth . . . the punks who attacked me.” The look on your face is grim and frightening.

“You are saying that evil walks the streets of Wellie, too, then. Not just good. And you’re involved in fighting it, aren’t you? You did something after my store was hit the first time, that’s when you turned up with that burn.”

I’m more frightened now than when I was getting attacked. This isn’t over yet, and I can’t see when it will ever be over. And because of your bad luck to be cast in that movie, you will never be able to put this burden down.