But, for reasons both comical and tragic, I never got to see Part Two of The Hobbit.
You see, my parents, who didn't seem too certain, did cling to old-fashioned principles of behavior, meaning that you didn't eat any dinner while watching TV, AND you ate everything on your plate before being excused. The night Part Two of The Hobbit aired, pork chops, a food I couldn't bear as a child, were served. (NOTE: I have no problem with them today, just one of those quirky childhood things.)
So, as stalling as hard as I could over my plate, while listening to the program's audio from the other room, by meaning to throw it up all over the table. My Dad sent me to bed as punishment, and that's how I never got to see Part Two of The Hobbit.
No videotaping or re-runs back then, kids. I would have to wait several months before finally experiencing the end of The Hobbit, after randomly receiving the book-and-record set from an aunt of mine, but flipping through twelve-pages of film-stills was a weak substitute, but it was all I had.