Conan the Barbarian (2011)
Corin: What is most important when making a sword, fire or ice?
Young Conan: Fire.
[Corin looks at Young Conan with some disbelief]
Young Conan: [pause] ... Ice?
Corin: Are you sure?
[pause; then Corin strikes the anvil with a newly-forged sword which breaks]
Corin: Fire... and ice. That is the mystery of steel.
Khalar Zym: [holding up a bag of gold in exchange for Tamara] Your reward!
Conan: I do not want your gold.
Khalar Zym: No? Then what?
Conan: I want your head!
Conan: Do you have a name?
Tamara: My name is Tamara Amalia Jorvi Karushan. And yours is?
Tamara: [pause] Conan... that's it?
Conan: How many names do I need?
Conan: [referring to Tamara] Find her a weapon and leather armor.
Artus: [to Tamara] I think he likes you.
Corin: When a Cimmerian feels thirst, it is a thirst for blood. When he feels cold, it is the cold edge of steel. For the courage of a Cimmerian is tempered: he neither fears death... nor rushes foolishly to meet it. To be a Cimmerian warrior, you must have both cunning and balance as well as speed and strength.
Corin: [Corin has just put an egg in each of the student's mouths, except Young Conan's, in preparation for a test] The first to circle the hills and return, the egg unbroken, earns the right to fight with the warriors.
[Sends the students on the way as a Young Conan is looking disappointed]
Corin: Oh, by Crom, boy. What are you waiting for?
[Gives Young Conan an egg as he rushes on his way]
Corin: [Forging a sword with Young Conan] The sword we make will be yours one day. But before you wield the sword, you must first understand it.
Narrator: In between the years when the oceans drank Atlantis and the rise of the Sons of Aryas, there was an age undreamed of, when shining kingdoms lay spread across the world. Then came the dark empire of Acheron, where cruel necromancers sought secrets of resurrection. They crafted a mask from the bones of kings, and awakened its wrath with the pure blood of their daughters. The mask summoned spirits of unspeakable evil giving them power no mortal men should possess. Acheron enslaved the civilized world. Only the barbarian tribes were left to rise up against them. The mask was shattered and Acheron fell. Each tribe kept a single shard so that no man might attempt to join them back together and drive the world once again into chaos and ruin. The pieces were scattered across the land and remained hidden for ages. But prophecy spoke of a man who would some day try to reassemble the mask and rule the world. So came the dawn of Hyborian age, a time both bleak and brutal. And so came a child, born of battle...
Conan: Run from me... and I will tear apart the mountains to find you! I will follow you to Hell!
Corin: [as he practices with Conan] You're still all fire, boy...
[as Conan charges him]
Corin: No! Slow down! Find your footing.