Dream journal

I was Bilbo Baggins, and the conflict between Sauron and Saruman had spilled into the Shire. A brigade of dwarves working for one or the other marched into town, and the defenseless townsfolk all braced for rape and pillage. I lay in my bed, trying very hard Not to Be Seen, figuring that was my only hope. But one of the heavily-armed dwarves did see me, apparently: he walked by my bed, put a hand on the bed-frame, said something confusing (with a number of "tirree, tirree"s interjected as flavoring particles), and then walked away without doing me any harm. And I was left trying to decipher what he had said, on the theory that he was actually on our side and it was a secret message.