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Дюна

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water.
Surely a dead man no longer requires it.
At least here is honest merrymaking.
Careful, lad.
That spice beer can go to your head
before you know it.
Play, Gurney.
Let's you and I at least have some peace.
When the son of my beloved duke
orders me to relax...
...then, by God, I intend to do so.
Is that how you really feel, Gurney-man...
...about my father?
"Beloved"?
You young pup.
If I didn't know better, I would take
those words for an accusation.
It was a simple question.
Your father rescued me
from a Harkonnen slave pit, boy.
He took me into his household,
groomed me as his war master.
The man or woman...
...that raises a hand against him...
...will have it cut off by me,
as a prelude to their death.
I'm ashamed of myself doubting you,
Gurney-man.
That's enough, lad. No more of this.
Gentlemen and ladies,
I use the terms loosely of course.
I, the Baron Harkonnen...
...have decided that the great seal
of our venerable house...
...that confused and ugly Chimera,
the griffin...
...no longer adequately represents
the ambition of our appetites.
Therefore and henceforth, in conclusion
and furthermore, ergo and et cetera...
...our ample and royal self...
...from this day forth,
and throughout the universe...
...we shall no longer be known
as House Harkonnen.
We shall be...
...House Hog.
Now I know why they say
your skill with a knife...
...is exceeded only by your mastery
of the baliset, Gurney Halleck.
Is it Atreides custom
to abandon an honoured guest...
...without even the courtesy
of a lame excuse?
Forgive me, Your Highness.
Careful.
Spice beer can go to your head
before you know it.
So I've noticed.
You were expecting someone
more delicate, perhaps?
"Refined" was the word I had in mind,
actually.
There's an ancient saying
I've learned to trust:
"Never judge a book by its cover."
We are not all that different, Paul Atreides,
you and me.
You don't know what you're talking about.
I've heard all about the moody Paul...
...the grim Paul,
the angry and unhappy Paul...
...who has been exiled to Arrakis where,
poor boy...
...one day he will inherit responsibility
for the greatest treasure in the universe.
And a never-ending struggle to defend it.
We both suffer the solitude
of our birthright.
Except that tomorrow you will return
to the comfort of your palaces on Kaitain.
To the confinement of its perfect gardens
and lonely apartments.
To your servants and entourage.
With their slavish flattery
and cautious conversation.
As an heir to an Emperor.
Who damns my mother
for bearing daughters instead of sons.
You're mocking me.
No.
I'm trying to interest you.
Are you gonna dance with me
or just stand there looking confused?
I didn't want to come here, you know.
Being an ornament
of my father's diplomacy...
...is hardly my idea of a good time.
But you turned out to be more complicated
than your reputation.
And I like complicated.
We've been looking for you, Your Highness.
So now you've found me.
-Have you been hurt?
-Be still, Captain.
The Princess has been
under my protection.
Oh, please.
-Gurney, hold.
-Stand down, Captain.
-Gurney.
-I said stand down, Captain!
It's late, Highness. The shuttle awaits.
I am not ready to go.
Your father left strict orders.
You see?
Perhaps we should be the adults here.
Set an example
for our hot-tempered friends.
You are more interesting than you appear,
Paul Atreides.
I hope this won't be our last encounter.
My father will no doubt reward you
for such mindless obedience, Captain.
Muad'dib.
Muad'dib.
Father?
Duncan?
Forgive the abrupt arrival, Milord.
But we've taken
a force of Harkonnen infiltrators.
The Fremen found them
in the cave of the shield mountains.
One of the Fremen, Turok,
was badly wounded.
-I rushed him here for treatment--
-But he has died.
This is Stilgar, Milord...
...leader of Turok's tribe.
We've heard many things in the desert
about Leto Atreides.
Дюна Дюна

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