“Hey, precious.” A pretty brunette slid to Tristan’s side out of the blue.Precious? Who does she think she is? Gollum?”

“Hands off the Precious, Gollum.”

“Lookit Gollum, bust me out of here and I'll help you find your precious”

“Whitebread was in there, waiting like the fucking pillar of strength she was. That little brunette had out-couraged pretty much every damn person he’d ever met—exactly what Blake needed.”

“Frodo gave a cry, and there was, fallen upon his knees at the chasm's edge. But Gollum, dancing like a mad thing, held aloft the ring, a finger still thrust within its circle. "Precious, precious, precious!" Gollum cried. "My Precious! O my Precious!" And with that, even as his eyes were lifted up to gloat on his prize, he stepped too far, toppled, wavered for a moment on the brink, and then with a shriek he fell. Out of the depths came his last wail precious, and he was gone.”

“Look it Gollum, if you spring me, I’ll help you find your Precious.--Regin”