no music. i'm packing this for the crossing. shield practice.
not in the mood?! mood's a thing for cattle and love play.  not fighting.
not sorry enough.
guard yourself for true!
good.  the slow blade penetrates the shield.  but look down.
we'd have joined each other in death. however, you did seem to finally get the "mood".
if you'd fought one whit below your abilities i'd have scratched you a good one.
yes. i sensed the play in you lad, but this can no longer be play. tomorrow we leave for arrakis! arrakis is real. the harkonnens are real.
precise control.
they shall come all for violence: their faces shall sup as the east wind. and they shall gather the captivity of the sand.
behold as a wild ass in the desert go i forth to my work.
i hope i made myself clear. you may call him "the duke," "my lord," or "sire." and there is a more ancient term you might keep in mind -- "noble born."
the duke is to be addresses as.
sire!
yes, sire.
we're wasting time, sire.
the young master is a trained mentat, an advanced student of prana bindu has studied under some of the finest teachers in the universe.
dust cloud ahead, sire.
don't mention the duke.  this is an uncoded channel.
the worm is eight minutes away, sire.
come on boys.  come on. we're going to be heavy, sire.
gods, what a monster.
long live duke leto!
paul!! paul!!
they said you were dead. they said.
you young pup! you young pup!
atomics!
my lord?
thufir. come.
this is a harkonnen animal. let me, please, my lord.