Peter Jackson is my hero.

I cried & cried, like a little girl.
Oh, Shelob - you break my heart.
Confidential to Aimee: Viggo cleans up nicely....
Confidential to Beca: R counted at least two Wilhelms. He wants to compare notes.
Confidential to jD: I see breadties. I blame you.

Mr. Jackson, you have ensured that another generation of little girls worship horses.

(More specifics once the date has passed which will keep me from crucifixion on account of spoilers.)