Dzhon Ronal'd Ruel Tolkien. Hobbit

     In  this  reprint several  minor  inaccuracies, most of  them noted  by
readers, have been  corrected. For example, the text  on pages 32 and 62 now
corresponds  exactly with the runes  on Thror's Map.  More  important is the
matter  of Chapter  Five. There the true story of the ending of  the  Riddle
Game, as it was eventually revealed (under pressure) by Bilbo to Gandalf, is
now  given according to the Red Book, in  place  of the version Bilbo  first
gave to his friends, and actually set down in his diary. This departure from
truth  on  the  part  of  a  most  honest  hobbit  was a  portent  of  great
significance. It does not, however, concern the present story, and those who
in  this edition make  their  first acquaintance  with  hobbit-lore need not
troupe about it. Its explanation lies in the history of the Ring, as  it was
set out in the chronicles of the Red Book  of Westmarch,  and is now told in
The Lord of the Rings.

     A final note may be added, on a point raised by several students of the
lore of the period. On  Thror's Map is  written Here of old was  Thrain King
under the Mountain; yet Thrain was the son of Thror, the last King under the
Mountain before the coming of the dragon. The Map, however, is not in error.
Names  are  often  repeated  in  dynasties, and the genealogies show  that a
distant ancestor of Thror was  referred to, Thrain I, a fugitive from Moria,
who first  discovered the  Lonely  Mountain, Erebor, and ruled  there  for a
while, before his people moved on to the remoter mountains of the North.

Chapter I. An Unexpected Party

     In  a hole in the ground there lived a  hobbit. Not a  nasty, dirty, wet
hole, filled  with the ends of worms and an oozy smell, nor yet a dry, bare,
sandy  hole  with  nothing  in  it  to sit  down  on  or  to eat: it  was  a
hobbit-hole, and that means comfort.
     It had a  perfectly  round  door like a porthole, painted green, with a
shiny  yellow  brass knob  in  the exact  middle. The door  opened  on to  a
tube-shaped hall  like a tunnel: a very comfortable  tunnel  without  smoke,
with panelled walls, and floors tiled and carpeted,  provided  with polished
chairs,  and lots  and lots of pegs for hats and coats - the hobbit was fond
of visitors. The tunnel wound on and on, going fairly but not quite straight
into the side of the hill - The Hill, as all the people for many miles round
called it - and many little  round doors opened out of it, first on one side
and then on another. No going upstairs for  the hobbit: bedrooms, bathrooms,
cellars, pantries (lots of these), wardrobes  (he had whole rooms devoted to
clothes), kitchens, dining-rooms, all were on the same floor,  and indeed on
the same  passage. The best rooms were all on the left-hand side (going in),
for these were the only ones to have windows, deep-set round windows looking
over his garden and meadows beyond, sloping down to the river.
     This hobbit was a very well-to-do hobbit, and his name was Baggins. The
Bagginses had  lived in  the neighbourhood of The Hill for time out of mind,
and  people considered them very respectable, not only because  most of them
were rich, but  also because they never had  any adventures  or did anything
unexpected:  you could tell what a Baggins would say on any question without
the bother of asking him. This is a story of how a Baggins had an adventure,
found himself doing and  saying  things  altogether unexpected.  He may have
lost the neighbours' respect, but he gained-well,  you  will see  whether he
gained anything in the end.
     The mother of our particular  hobbit  ... what is a hobbit?  I  suppose
hobbits need some  description nowadays, since they have become rare and shy
of  the Big People,  as  they call us. They  are (or were)  a little people,
about half our height, and smaller than the bearded Dwarves. Hobbits have no
beards. There is little or no magic about them, except the ordinary everyday
sort  which helps them to  disappear quietly  and quickly  when large stupid
folk like you  and me come blundering along,  making a  noise like elephants
which they can hear a mile off. They are inclined to  be at in the  stomach;
they dress  in  bright colours (chiefly green  and yellow); wear  no  shoes,
because their feet grow  natural leathery  soles and  thick  warm brown hair
like  the stuff on  their heads  (which  is  curly); have long  clever brown
fingers, good-natured faces, and laugh deep  fruity laughs (especially after
dinner,  which  they have twice a  day when they can  get it). Now you  know
enough to go on with. As I was saying, the mother of this hobbit -  of Bilbo
Baggins,  that is  -  was  the  fabulous Belladonna Took,  one of  the three
remarkable  daughters of the Old Took, head  of the hobbits who lived across
The Water, the small  river that ran at the foot  of The Hill. It  was often
said (in other families) that long ago one  of the Took  ancestors must have
taken  a fairy  wife. That was,  of course, absurd, but certainly there  was
still  something not entirely hobbit-like  about them, - and once in a while
members  of the  Took-clan would  go  and have  adventures.  They discreetly
disappeared, and  the family hushed  it  up; but the fact  remained that the
Tooks were not as respectable as the Bagginses, though they were undoubtedly
richer. Not that  Belladonna Took ever  had any adventures after she  became
Mrs. Bungo Baggins. Bungo, that was Bilbo's father, built the most luxurious
hobbit-hole for her (and partly  with her money) that was to be found either
under The Hill or over The Hill or across The Water, and there they remained
to the  end of their days.  Still it  is  probable that Bilbo, her only son,
although he looked and  behaved exactly like a  second edition of  his solid
and  comfortable father, got  something a bit queer in  his makeup from  the
Took side,  something that only waited for  a chance to come out. The chance
never arrived, until Bilbo Baggins was grown up, being about fifty years old
or so, and living in the beautiful hobbit-hole built by  his father, which I
have just described for you, until  he had in  fact apparently settled  down
immovably.
     By some  curious chance one morning long ago in the quiet of the world,
when  there was  less noise  and  more  green, and  the  hobbits  were still
numerous  and prosperous, and Bilbo  Baggins was standing at  his door after
breakfast smoking an enormous  long wooden pipe that reached nearly down  to
his woolly toes  (neatly brushed) - Gandalf  came by.  Gandalf!  If you  had
heard only a quarter of what I have heard about him, and  I have only  heard
very little of all there is to hear, you would be prepared for any sort I of
remarkable tale.  Tales  and adventures  sprouted  up  all  over  the  place
wherever  he went, in the most extraordinary  fashion. He had not  been down
that way under The Hill for ages and ages, not since his friend the Old Took
died, in fact, and the hobbits had almost forgotten what he looked like.  He
had been away over The  Hill and across  The Water  on business  of his  own
since they were all small hobbit-boys and hobbit-girls.
     All that the unsuspecting Bilbo saw that morning was  an old man with a
staff. He had a tall pointed blue  hat, a long grey cloak,  a  silver  scarf
over which a white beard hung down below his waist, and immense black boots.
     "Good  morning!" said Bilbo,  and he meant it. The sun was shining, and
the grass was very  green. But  Gandalf looked at him from  under long bushy
eyebrows that stuck out further than the brim of his shady hat. "What do you
mean?" be  said. "Do you wish me a good morning, or mean that  it is  a good
morning whether I want not; or that you feel good  this morning; or that  it
is morning to be good on?"
     "All of them at once,"  said Bilbo. "And a very fine morning for a pipe
of tobacco out of doors, into the bargain. If you have a pipe about you, sit
down and have a fill of mine! There's no hurry, we  have all  the day before
us!" Then Bilbo sat down  on a seat by his door, crossed his legs, and  blew
out a  beautiful grey ring of  smoke  that  sailed up  into the air  without
breaking and floated away over The Hill.
     "Very pretty!"  said  Gandalf. "But I have no time to blow  smoke-rings
this morning.  I am looking for someone to share  in an adventure that  I am
arranging, and it's very difficult to find anyone."
     "I should think  so - in these parts! We are plain quiet folk  and have
no use for adventures. Nasty .disturbing uncomfortable things! Make you late
for dinner! I can't think what anybody sees in them," said our Mr.  Baggins,
and  stuck  one  thumb  behind  his braces, and blew out another even bigger
smoke-ring.  Then  he  took out his morning  letters,  and  begin  to  read,
pretending to take no more notice of the old man. He had decided that he was
not quite his sort, and wanted him to go away. But the old man did not move.
He  stood leaning on  his  stick  and gazing at the  hobbit  without  saying
anything, till Bilbo got quite uncomfortable and even a little cross.
     "Good morning!" he said at last. "We  don't want  any  adventures here,
thank  you!  You might try  over The Hill or  across The Water." By this  he
meant that the conversation was at an end.
     "What a lot of things you do use Good morning  for!" said Gandalf. "Now
you mean  that you want to get rid of me, and that it won't be good  till  I
move off."
     "Not at all, not at all, my dear sir! Let me see, I don't  think I know
your name?"
     "Yes, yes, my dear sir  - and I do know  your name,  Mr. Bilbo Baggins.
And you do know my name, though you don't remember that I belong to it. I am
Gandalf,  and Gandalf means me!  To think  that  I  should  have lived to be
good-morninged by Belladonna Took's son, as if  I was selling buttons at the
door!"
     "Gandalf, Gandalf! Good gracious me! Not the wandering wizard that gave
Old  Took a  pair of magic diamond studs that  fastened themselves and never
came  undone till ordered?  Not the fellow who  used to tell such  wonderful
tales  at  parties, about dragons and goblins and giants and the  rescue  of
princesses and the unexpected luck of widows' sons? Not the man that used to
make such particularly excellent fireworks! I remember those! Old Took  used
to  have them on  Midsummer's Eve. Splendid! They used to go up  like  great
lilies  and snapdragons and laburnums of fire  and hang in the  twilight all
evening!" You will notice already that Mr. Baggins was not quite so prosy as
he liked to believe, also that he  was very fond of flowers. "Dear  me!" she
went  on. "Not the Gandalf  who was responsible  for so many  quiet lads and
lasses going off into the  Blue for mad  adventures. Anything  from climbing
trees  to visiting  Elves - or  sailing  in ships, sailing to other  shores!
Bless me, life  used to  be quite inter - I mean,  you used to upset  things
badly in these parts once upon a time. I beg your pardon, but I had  no idea
you were still in business."
     "Where  else  should I be?" said the wizard. "All the same I am pleased
to find you remember  something about me. You seem  to remember my fireworks
kindly, at  any rate, land that is  not without  hope. Indeed for  your  old
grand-father  Took's sake, and for  the sake of poor Belladonna, I will give
you what you asked for."
     "I beg your pardon, I haven't asked for anything!"
     "Yes, you have! Twice  now. My pardon. I give it you. In fact I will go
so far  as to send you on this adventure. Very amusing for me, very good for
you and profitable too, very likely, if you ever get over it."
     "Sorry!  I don't  want  any  adventures,  thank  you. Not  today.  Good
morning! But please come to tea - any time  you like! Why not tomorrow? Come
tomorrow! Good-bye!"
     With that the hobbit  turned and scuttled  inside his round green door,
and shut it as quickly as he  dared, not to seen rude. Wizards after all are
wizards.
     "What on earth  did I ask him to tea for!" he  said to  him-self, as he
went  to the pantry. He  had only just had break fast, but he thought a cake
or two and a drink of something  would do him good after his fright. Gandalf
in the meantime was still standing outside  the  door, and laughing long but
quietly.  After a while  he stepped up,  and  with  the spike  of  his staff
scratched a queer sign on the  hobbit's beautiful  green front-door. Then he
strode  away, just about the time  when Bilbo was  finishing his second cake
and beginning to think that he had escape adventures very well.
     The next day he had almost forgotten about Gandalf He did  not remember
things  very  well,  unless  he put them down on his Engagement Tablet: like
this:  Gandalf  '¥a  Wednesday.  Yesterday he had  been too flustered to  do
anything of the  kind. Just before tea-time there came a tremendous ring  on
the front-door  bell,  and  then  he  remembered! He  rushed and put  on the
kettle, and put out another cup and saucer and an extra cake or two, and ran
to the door.
     "I am  so sorry to keep you waiting!" he was going to say, when  he saw
that it was not Gandalf at all. It was a dwarf with a blue beard tucked into
a golden belt, and very bright eyes under his dark-green hood. As soon a the
door was opened, he pushed inside, just as if he had been expected.
     He hung  his  hooded cloak on the  nearest  peg,  and "Dwalin  at  your
service!" he said with a low bow.
     "Bilbo Baggins  at yours!"  said the hobbit,  too surprised to  ask any
questions  for  the  moment.  When  the  silence  that followed  had  become
uncomfortable,  he added: "I am just  about to take tea;  pray come and have
some  with me." A little stiff  perhaps, but  he  meant  it kindly. And what
would you do, if an uninvited dwarf came and hung his things up in your hall
without a word of explanation?
     They had not  been at table long, in fact they  had  hardly reached the
third cake, when there came another even louder ring at the bell.
     "Excuse me!" said the hobbit, and off he went to the door.
     "So you have got here at last!" was what he was going to say to Gandalf
this time.  But  it was  not Gandalf.  Instead there was a very  old-looking
dwarf on the step  with a white beard and a scarlet hood; and he too  hopped
inside as soon as the door was open, just as if he had been invited.
     "I see they have begun to arrive already," he said when he caught sight
of  Dwalin's  green hood hanging up.  He  hung his red one  next  to it, and
"Balin at your service!" he said with his hand on his breast.
     "Thank you!" said  Bilbo with a gasp. It was not the  correct thing  to
say,  but  they  have  begun to  arrive  had flustered  him badly.  He liked
visitors, but he liked to know them before they arrived, and he preferred to
ask them himself. He had a horrible thought that the cakes might run  short,
and then he-as the host: he knew his duty and stuck to it however painful-he
might have to go without.
     "Come along in,  and have some tea!" he  managed to say after taking  a
deep breath.
     "A  little beer would suit me better, if it is  all the same to you, my
good  sir,"  said  Balin  with  the  white  beard.  "But  I don't mind  some
cake-seed-cake, if you have any."
     "Lots!"  Bilbo found  himself answering,  to  his own surprise; and  he
found himself scuttling off, too, to the cellar to fill a pint beer-mug, and
to  the pantry to  fetch two  beautiful round seed-cakes which  he had baked
that afternoon for his after-supper morsel.
     When he got  back Balin  and Dwalin were  talking at the table like old
friends  (as  a matter  of fact they were brothers). Bilbo  plumped down the
beer and the cake in front of them, when loud came a ring at the bell again,
and then another ring.
     "Gandalf  for certain this  time,"  he thought as he puffed  along  the
passage.  But  it was not. It was two more  dwarves, both  with  blue hoods,
silver belts, and yellow beards; and each of them carried a bag of tools and
a spade. In they hopped, as soon as the door began to open-Bilbo  was hardly
surprised at all.
     "What can I do for you, my dwarves?" he said. "Kili  at your  service!"
said the  one. "And Fili!" added  the other; and they both  swept  off their
blue hoods and bowed.
     "At yours and your family's!"  replied  Bilbo,  remembering his manners
this time.
     "Dwalin  and Balin  here already, I see,"  said Kili.  "Let us join the
throng!"
     "Throng!"  thought  Mr.  Baggins.  "I  don't like the sound  of that. I
really must sit down for a minute and collect my wits, and have a drink." He
had only just had a sip-in the corner, while the four dwarves sat around the
table, and  talked about mines  and  gold and troubles with the goblins, and
the depredations of  dragons,  and lots of  other things  which he  did  not
understand, and did not want to, for they sounded much too adventurous-when,
ding-dong-a-ling-'  dang,  his  bell  rang again, as if  some naughty little
hobbit-boy was trying to  pull  the handle off. "Someone  at  the  door!" he
said,  blinking.  "Some  four,  I  should  say  by  the sound,"  said  Fili.
"Be-sides, we saw them coming along behind us in the distance."
     The poor little hobbit sat  down  in the  hall  and put his head in his
hands, and wondered  what  had happened, and what  was  going to happen, and
whether they would all  stay to supper. Then the bell rang again louder than
ever, and he had to run to the door. It was not four  after all, t was FIVE.
Another  dwarf  had come  along while  he was wondering in the hall.  He had
hardly turned the knob, be-x)re they were all inside, bowing and saying  "at
your service" one after another.  Dori, Nori, Ori, Oin, and Gloin were their
names;  and very soon  two  purple hoods, a  grey hood, a  brown hood, and a
white hood  were hanging on the pegs, and off  they marched with their broad
hands  stuck in their gold and silver belts  to join the others. Already  it
had almost become a  throng. Some called for ale,  and some for  porter, and
one for coffee, and all of them for cakes; so  the hobbit was kept very busy
for a while.
     A big jug of coffee bad just  been  set  in  the hearth, the seed-cakes
were gone, and the dwarves were starting on a round of buttered scones, when
there came-a loud knock.  Not  a ring, but a  hard rat-tat  on the  hobbit's
beautiful green door. Somebody was banging with a stick!
     Bilbo rushed along  the passage,  very angry, and altogether bewildered
and  bewuthered-this was the  most awkward Wednesday he  ever remembered. He
pulled open the  door with a jerk, and they all fell in, one  on  top of the
other. More dwarves, four more! And there was Gandalf behind, leaning on his
staff and  laughing. He  had made quite a dent on the beautiful door; he had
also, by the way, knocked  out the secret  mark that  he had  put  there the
morning before.
     "Carefully! Carefully!"  he said. "It  is not like you,  Bilbo, to keep
friends waiting on the mat,  and then  open the  door like a pop-gun! Let me
introduce Bifur, Bofur, Bombur, and especially Thorin!"
     "At your service!"  said  Bifur, Bofur,  and Bombur standing  in a row.
Then they hung up two yellow hoods and a pale green one; and also a sky-blue
one with a  long silver tassel. This  last belonged to Thorin, an enormously
important dwarf, in fact no other than the great Thorin Oakenshield himself,
who was not at all pleased at falling flat on Bilbo's mat with Bifur, Bofur,
and Bombur  on top of him. For one thing Bombur was immensely fat and heavy.
Thorin indeed was very haughty, and said nothing about service; but poor Mr.
Baggins said he was sorry so many times, that at last he grunted "pray don't
mention it," and stopped frowning.
     "Now we are all here!"  said Gandalf, looking at the  row  of  thirteen
hoods-the best detachable party hoods-and  his own hat hanging on  the pegs.
"Quite a merry gathering!
     I hope there is something left for  the  late-comers to eat  and drink!
What's that? Tea! No thank you! A  little red  wine,  I think, for me." "And
for me,"  said Thorin. "And raspberry  jam and apple-tart," said Bifur. "And
mince-pies and  cheese," said Bofur. "And pork-pie and  salad," said Bombur.
"And  more cakes-and ale-and  coffee, if  you don't mind,"  called the other
dwarves through the door.
     "Put on a  few eggs, there's a good fellow!" Gandalf called after  him,
as the  hobbit stumped  off to  the pantries. "And just bring out  the  cold
chicken and pickles!"
     "Seems  to know as much about the inside of my larders as I do myself!"
thought Mr. Baggins, who was feeling positively flummoxed, and was beginning
to  wonder whether a  most  wretched  adventure had not come right  into his
house. By  the time he had got all  the bottles  and  dishes  and knives and
forks and glasses and plates and spoons and things piled up on big trays, he
was getting very hot, and red in the face, and annoyed.
     "Confusticate and  bebother these dwarves!"  he said aloud. "Why  don't
they come and lend a hand?"  Lo and behold! there stood  Balin and Dwalin at
the door of the kitchen, and Fili and Kili behind  them, and before he could
say knife they  had whisked the trays and a couple of small tables into  the
parlour and set out everything afresh.
     Gandalf  sat at the head of  the  party with the  thirteen, dwarves all
round:  and Bilbo sat on a stool at the fireside, nibbling at a biscuit (his
appetite  was quite taken  away), and  trying  to look as  if  this was  all
perfectly  ordinary and. not in the least  an adventure. The dwarves ate and
ate,  and talked  and talked, and time  got  on.  At last they  pushed their
chairs back, and Bilbo made a move to collect the plates and glasses.
     "I suppose you  will  all  stay  to supper?" he  said in  his  politest
unpressing  tones.  "Of course!"  said  Thorin. "And  after.  We  shan't get
through  the business till late, and  we must have some music first.  Now to
clear up!"
     Thereupon the  twelve  dwarves-not Thorin, he was  too  important,  and
stayed  talking to Gandalf-jumped to their feet  and made  tall piles of all
the  things.  Off they  went,  not waiting  for trays, balancing columns  of
plates, each with a bottle on the  top, with one hand,  while the hobbit ran
after them almost squeaking with fright:  "please be careful!" and  "please,
don't trouble! I can manage." But the dwarves only started to sing:

     Chip the glasses and crack the plates!
     Blunt the knives and bend the forks!
     That's what Bilbo Baggins hates-
     Smash the bottles and burn the corks!

     Cut the cloth and tread on the fat!
     Pour the milk on the pantry floor!
     Leave the bones on the bedroom mat!
     Splash the wine on every door!

     Dump the crocks in a boiling bawl;
     Pound them up with a thumping pole;
     And when you've finished, if any are whole,
     Send them down the hall to roll !

     That's what Bilbo Baggins hates!
     So, carefully! carefully with the plates!

     And of  course they did  none of these dreadful  things, and everything
was cleaned and put away safe  as quick as lightning,  while the  hobbit was
turning round and round in the middle of the kitchen trying to see what they
were  doing. Then  they went  back,  and  found Thorin with  his feet on the
fender smoking  a  pipe. He  was blowing the  most enormous smoke-rings, and
wherever he told one  to go, it went-up the chimney, or behind the clock  on
the man-telpiece, or  under  the  table, or round and round the ceiling; but
wherever it went it was  not quick enough to escape Gandalf.  Pop! he sent a
smaller smoke-ring  from his short clay-pipe  straight through  each  one of
Thorin's. The Gandalf's smoke-ring would go  green  and come back  to  hover
over the wizard's head.  He had quite a cloud of them about him already, and
in the dim light it made him look strange  and sorcerous. Bilbo  stood still
and  watched-he loved  smoke-rings-and then be blushed to think how proud he
had been yesterday morning of the smoke-rings he  had sent up the  wind over
The Hill.
     "Now for some music!" said Thorin. "Bring out the instruments!"
     Kili  and  Fili rushed for their bags and brought back  little fiddles;
Dori, Nori, and  Ori  brought out flutes from somewhere inside their  coats;
Bombur produced a drum from the hall; Bifur and Bofur went out too, and came
back  with clarinets that  they had left among the walking-sticks Dwalin and
Balin said: "Excuse me, I left mine in the  porch!" "Just bring mine in with
you," said Thorin. They came back with viols as big as themselves,  and with
Thorin's harp wrapped in a green cloth. It was a beautiful gold-en harp, and
when Thorin struck it the music began all at once, so  sudden and sweet that
Bilbo  forgot  everything else,  and was swept away  into  dark lands  under
strange moons, far  over The Water and  very far  from his hobbit-hole under
The Hill.
     The  dark came into the room from the  little window that opened in the
side of The Hill; the firelight flickered-it was April-and still they played
on, while the shadow of Gandalf's beard wagged against the wall.
     The dark  filled all the room, and the fire died down, and  the shadows
were lost, and still they played on. And suddenly first one and then another
began to sing as they  played, deep-throated singing of the  dwarves in  the
deep places of their ancient  homes; and  this is like a  fragment of  their
song, if it can be like their song without their music.

     Far over the misty mountains cold
     To dungeons deep and caverns old
     We must away ere break of day
     To seek the pale enchanted gold.

     The dwarves of yore made mighty spells,
     While hammers fell like ringing bells
     In places deep, where dark things sleep,
     In hollow halls beneath the fells.

     For ancient king and elvish lord
     There many a gloaming golden hoard
     They shaped and wrought, and light they caught
     To hide in gems on hilt of sword.

     On silver necklaces they strung
     The flowering stars, on crowns they hung
     The dragon-fire, in twisted wire
     They meshed the light of moon and sun.

     Far over the misty mountains cold
     To dungeons deep and caverns old
     We must away, ere break of day,
     To claim our long-forgotten gold.

     Goblets they carved there for themselves
     And harps of gold; where no man delves
     There lay they long, and many a song
     Was sung unheard by men or elves.

     The pines were roaring on the height,
     The winds were moaning in the night.
     The fire was red, it flaming spread;
     The trees like torches biased with light,

     The bells were ringing in the dale
     And men looked up with faces pale;
     The dragon's ire more fierce than fire
     Laid low their towers and houses frail.

     The mountain smoked beneath the moon;
     The dwarves, they heard the tramp of doom.
     They fled their hall to dying -fall
     Beneath his feet, beneath the moon.

     Far over the misty mountains grim
     To dungeons deep and caverns dim
     We must away, ere break of day,
     To win our harps and gold from him!

     As they sang the hobbit felt the love of beautiful things made by hands
and by cunning  and by magic moving through  him, a fierce and jealous love,
the  desire of the hearts of dwarves. Then  something Tookish woke up inside
him,  and  he  wished  to  go  and see  the  great mountains,  and  hear the
pine-trees  and  the  waterfalls, and explore  the caves,  and  wear a sword
instead of a walking-stick.  He looked out of the window. The stars were out
in  a dark  sky  above  the  trees. He thought of the jewels of the  dwarves
shining in dark caverns. Suddenly in the wood beyond The Water a flame leapt
up--probably somebody  lighting a  wood-fire-and  he  thought of  plundering
dragons  settling on  his  quiet Hill and  kindling  it all  to  flames.  He
shuddered; and very quickly he was plain Mr. Baggins of Bag-End, Under-Hill,
again.
     He got  up  trembling. He had less than half a mind to fetch  the lamp,
and more  than half a  mind  to pretend  to, and go and hide behind the beer
barrels in the cellar, and not come out again until all the dwarves had gone
away. Suddenly he found that the music and the singing had stopped, and they
were all looking at him with eyes shining in the dark.
     "Where are you going?" said Thorin, in  a tone that seemed to show that
he guessed both halves of the hobbit's mind.
     "What about a little light?" said Bilbo apologetically.
     "We like the dark,"  said  the dwarves. "Dark  for dark business! There
are many hours before dawn."
     "Of course!" said Bilbo, and  sat down in a  hurry. He missed the stool
and sat in the fender, knocking over the poker and shovel with a crash.
     "Hush!" said Gandalf. "Let Thorin speak!" And this is bow Thorin began.
     "Gandalf, dwarves and Mr.  Baggins! We are not together in the house of
our  friend  and  fellow  conspirator,  this  most  excellent and  audacious
hobbit-may the hair on his toes never fall out! all praise to  his wine  and
ale!-"  He paused for  breath and  for a polite remark from the hob-bit, but
the  compliments  were quite lost on-poor Bilbo Baggins, who was wagging his
mouth  in  protest  at being  called  audacious  and  worst  of  all  fellow
conspirator, though no noise came out, he  was so flummoxed.  So Thorin went
on:
     "We are met  to discuss our plans, our ways, means, policy and devices.
We  shall soon  before the break of day start on our long journey, a journey
from  which  some  of  us,  or  perhaps all  of  us (except our  friend  and
counsellor, the ingenious wizard  Gandalf)  may never return. It is a solemn
moment. Our object is, I take it, well known to us all. To the estimable Mr.
Baggins, and perhaps  to one or two of the younger dwarves (I think I should
be right in naming Kili and Fili, for instance), the exact situation  at the
moment may require a little brief explanation-"
     This was Thorin's  style. He  was an important dwarf. If  he  had  been
allowed, he would  probably  have  gone on like  this  until he was  out  of
breath, without telling any one there 'anything  that was not known already.
But he  was rudely  interrupted. Poor Bilbo couldn't bear it any longer.  At
may never return he began to  feel a shriek coming up inside,  and very soon
it  burst out like the whistle of an engine coming out of a tunnel.  All the
dwarves sprang Bp knocking over the table. Gandalf struck a  blue  light  on
the end of his magic staff, and in its firework glare the poor little hobbit
could be  seen kneeling  on the hearth-rug, shaking  like a jelly  that  was
melting. Then he fell flat on  the floor, and kept on calling out "struck by
lightning, struck by lightning!"  over and over again; and that was all they
could get  out of him for a  long time. So they took him and laid him out of
the  way  on the drawing-room sofa with a drink  at his elbow, and they went
back to their dark business.
     "Excitable little  fellow," said Gandalf, as they sat down again. "Gets
funny queer fits,  but he is one of the best, one of the best-as fierce as a
dragon in a pinch."
     If you have ever seen a  dragon in a pinch, you  will realize that this
was only poetical exaggeration  applied to  any  hobbit, even to  Old Took's
great-granduncle Bullroarer, who  was so  huge (for a hobbit) that he  could
ride a horse.  He  charged  the ranks of the goblins  of Mount Gram  in  the
Battle of the Green Fields, and knocked their king  Gol-firnbul's head clean
off with a wooden club. It sailed a  hundred  yards through the air and went
down a rabbit hole, and in this way the  battle was won and the game of Golf
invented at the same moment.
     In the meanwhile, however, Bullroarer's gentler descendant was reviving
in the  drawing-room. After a  while and  a drink  he crept nervously to the
door of the  parlour. This  is  what he heard, Gloin  speaking: "Humph!" (or
some snort more or  less  like that).  "Will  he do, do you think? It is all
very well for Gandalf to talk about this hobbit being fierce, but one shriek
like  that in a moment of excitement would be enough to  wake the dragon and
all  his relatives, and kill  the  lot of  us.  I think it sounded more like
fright than excitement!  In fact, if  it bad not  been for  the sign on  the
door,  I should have been sure we had come to the wrong house. As  soon as I
clapped eyes on the little fellow  bobbing  and puffing on the mat, I had my
doubts. He looks more like a grocer-than a burglar!"
     Then Mr. Baggins  turned the handle and went in. The Took side had won.
He suddenly felt he would go without bed and breakfast to be thought fierce.
As  for little fellow bobbing on  the  mat it almost made him really fierce.
Many a time  afterwards the Baggins part  regretted what he  did now, and he
said to himself: "Bilbo, you were a  fool; you walked right in and  put your
foot in it."
     "Pardon me," he said, "if I  have overheard words that you were saying.
I don't pretend to understand what  you are talking about, or your reference
to burglars,  but I think I  am right  in believing" (this is what he called
being on his dignity) "that you think  I am no good. I will show you. I have
no signs on my door-it was painted a week ago-, and I am quite sure you have
come to the wrong house. As soon as I saw your funny faces on the door-step,
I had my doubts.  But treat it as the right one. Tell me what you want done,
and I will try it, if I have to walk from here to the East of East and fight
the wild Were-worms in the Last Desert. I bad a great-great-great-granduncle
once, Bullroarer Took, and --"
     "Yes, yes, but that  was  long ago,"  said Gloin. "I  was talking about
you.  And  I assure you  there is a mark on this door-the  usual  one in the
trade,  or used  to be. Burglar  wants a good job, plenty of Excitement  and
reasonable Reward,  that's  how  it  is  usually  read.  You ^an say  Expert
Treasure-hunter  instead of Burglar if you like.  Some of them do.  It's all
the same to us. Gandalf told us  that  there was a man  of the sort in these
parts looking for a Job at once, and that he had arranged for a meeting here
this Wednesday tea-time."
     "Of course there is a mark,"  said Gandalf. "I put it there myself. For
very good reasons.  You asked  me  to  find  the  fourteenth  man  for  your
expedition, and I chose Mr. Baggins. Just let any  one say I chose the wrong
man or the wrong house,  and you can stop  at thirteen and have all the  bad
luck you like, or go back to digging coal."
     He  scowled so  angrily  at Gloin that  the dwarf  huddled back  in his
chair; and  when Bilbo tried to open his mouth to ask a question,  he turned
and  frowned at  him and stuck oat his bushy  eyebrows,  till Bilbo shut his
mouth tight with a snap. "That's right,"  said Gandalf. "Let's  have no more
argument. I have chosen Mr. Baggins and that ought to !6te enough for all of
you.  If I say he is  a Burglar, a  Burglar he  is, or will be when the time
comes. There is a  lot more in him  than  you guess, and a deal more than he
has any idea of  himself. You may  (possibly)  all live to thank me yet. Now
Bilbo, my boy, fetch the lamp, and let's have little light on this!"
     On the table in the light  of a big lamp  with  a red shad he spread  a
piece of parchment rather like a map.
     "This was made by Thror, your grandfather, Thorin, he said in answer to
the dwarves' excited questions. "It is a plan of the Mountain."
     "I don't see that this will help us  much," said Thorin  disappointedly
after a glance. "I remember the Mountain well enough and the lands about it.
And I know where Mirkwood is, and the Withered Heath where the great dragons
bred."
     "There is a  dragon marked in  red on the Mountain, said Balin, "but it
will be easy enough to find him without that, if ever we arrive there."
     "There  is one point that you  haven't  noticed," said the wizard, "and
that  is the secret entrance.  You see that  rune on the West side, and  the
hand pointing to it from the other  runes?*(  That marks a hidden passage to
the Lower Halls.
     "It may have been secret  once,"  said Thorin, "but how do we know that
it is secret  any longer? Old Smaug had lived there long enough now to  find
out anything there is to know about those caves."
     "He may-but he can't have used it for years and years. "Why?"
     "Because it is too small. 'Five feet  high the door and three  may walk
abreast' say the runes, but Smaug could not creep into a hole that size, not
even when  he  was  a young dragon, certainly not after devouring so many of
the dwarves and men of Dale."
     "It  seems  a  great big  hole  to  me,"  squeaked  Bilbo  (who  had no
experience  of dragons and  only of hobbit-holes) He was getting excited and
interested again, so that  he forgot to  keep his mouth shut. He loved maps,
and  in  his hall  there hung a large one of the  Country Round with all his
favourite walks marked on it in  red  ink. "How could  such a large door  be
kept secret from everybody outside, apart from the dragon?" he asked. He was
only a little hobbit you must remember.
     "In lots of  ways," said  Gandalf. "But in  what way  this one has been
hidden we don't know without  going to see. From what it  says  on the map I
should guess there is a closed door which has been made to look exactly like
the side of the Mountain. That is the usual dwarves' method- I think that is
right, isn't it?" "Quite right," said Thorin.
     "Also," went on Gandalf, "I forgot to  mention that with the map went a
key, a small and curious key. Here it is!" he  said, and  handed to Thorin a
key with a long barrel and intricate wards, made of silver. "Keep it safe!"
     "Indeed I will," said Thorin, and he fastened it upon a fine chain that
hung about his neck and  under his  jacket. "Now things  begin to look  more
hopeful. This  news alters them much  for-the better. So far we  have had no
clear idea what to do.  We thought of going East, as quiet and careful as we
could, as far as the Long Lake. After that the trouble would begin."
     "A  long  time before  that, if I know anything about  the loads East,"
interrupted Gandalf.
     "We might  go from  there up  along the River Running,"  went on Thorin
taking no notice, "and so to the  ruins of  Dale-the old town in  the valley
there, under the shadow of the Mountain. But we none of us liked the idea of
the Front  Gate. The river runs right out of it through the great  cliff  at
the South of the Mountain, and out of it comes the dragon too-far too often,
unless he has changed."
     "That would  be  no  good,"  said the  wizard,  "not  without  a mighty
Warrior, even a  Hero.  I tried to find one;  but warriors are busy fighting
one another  in  distant lands, and in this neighbourhood heroes are scarce,
or  simply lot to be found. Swords in these parts are mostly blunt, and axes
are used for trees, and shields as  cradles or dish-covers; and  dragons are
comfortably  far-off (and  therefore  legendary). That  is why  I settled on
burglary-especially when I remembered the existence of a Side-door. And here
is our little Bilbo Baggins, the  burglar, the chosen and  selected burglar.
So now let's get on and make some plans."
     "Very well then," said Thorin, "supposing  the  burglar-expert gives us
some ideas or suggestions." He turned with mock-politeness to Bilbo.
     "First I should like to know a bit more about things," said he, feeling
all confused  and a bit shaky inside, but so  far still lookishly determined
to go on with things. "I mean about the gold and  the dragon,  and all that,
and how it got there, and who it belongs to, and so on and further."
     "Bless me!" said Thorin,  "haven't you  got a map? and  didn't you hear
our song? and haven't we been talking about all this for hours?"
     "All  the same,  I  should  like  it  all  plain and  clear,"  said  he
obstinately, putting on his business manner (usually reserved for people who
tried  to borrow  money off him), and  doing  his  best to  appear wise  and
prudent and professional and live  up to  Gandalf's recommendation. "Also  I
should like to  know about risks, out-of-pocket expenses, time  required and
remuneration,  and so forth"-by which he meant: "What am  I going to get out
of it? and am I going to come back alive?"
     "O very well," said Thorin. "Long  ago in my grandfather  Thror's  time
our family was  driven out of  the  far North,  and came back with all their
wealth and  their tools to this Mountain on the map. It  had been discovered
by my  far ancestor, Thrain the  Old, but now they mined and they  tunnelled
and they made  huger  halls and greater workshops -and in addition I believe
they found a good deal of gold and a great many jewels too. Anyway they grew
immensely rich  and famous, and  my  grandfather was King under the Mountain
again and treated with great reverence by the  mortal men, who lived to  the
South, and were gradually  spreading  up the  Running River  as  far  as the
valley overshadowed by the Mountain. They built the merry town of Dale there
in those days.  Kings used to send for our smiths, and reward even the least
skilful most richly. Fathers would beg us to take their sons as apprentices,
and  pay us handsomely, especially in food-supplies, which we never bothered
to grow or find for ourselves. Altogether  those  were good days for us, and
the  poorest of us  had  money to  spend  and  to lend, and leisure to  make
beautiful  things just  for  the. fun  of  it,  not  to  speak  of  the most
marvellous and magical  toys, the  like of which is not to  be found in  the
world now-a-days. So my grandfather's halls became full of armour and jewels
and  carvings and  cups, and the  toy-market of  Dale was the wonder  of the
North.
     "Undoubtedly that  was what brought the dragon. Dragons steal  gold and
jewels,  you know, from men and elves and dwarves,  wherever  they  can find
them;  and  they  guard  their  plunder  as  long  as they  live  (which  is
practically forever, unless they  are killed), and never  enjoy a brass ring
of it.  Indeed they hardly know a good  bit of work from a bad, though  they
usually have a good notion of the current market value; and they can't  make
a thing for themselves, not even mend a little  loose scale of their armour.
There were lots of dragons in the North in those days, and gold was probably
getting scarce  up there,  with the  dwarves flying south or getting killed,
and all the general waste and destruction  that dragons make  going from bad
to  worse. There was a most specially greedy, strong and wicked  worm called
Smaug. One day he flew up into the air and came south. The first we heard of
it was a noise like a hurricane coming from the North, and the pine-trees on
the  Mountain  creaking and cracking  in  the wind. Some of  the dwarves who
happened to  be outside (I was one luckily -a  fine adventurous lad in those
days, always wandering  about, and it saved  my  life that day)-well, from a
good way off we saw  the dragon settle on our mountain  in a spout of flame.
Then he came down the slopes and when  he reached the woods they all went up
in  fire. By that time all the bells  were ringing  in Dale and the warriors
were  arming. The dwarves rushed out of their great gate;  but there was the
dragon waiting for them. None escaped that way. The river rushed up in steam
and a fog fell on Dale, and in the fog the dragon came on them and destroyed
most of  the warriors-the usual unhappy  story, it was  only too  common  in
those days. Then he went back and crept in through the Front Gate and routed
out all  the halls, and  lanes,  and tunnels, alleys,  cellars, mansions and
passages. After that there were no dwarves left alive  inside, and  he  took
all their wealth for himself. Probably, for that is the dragons' way, he has
piled it all up in a  great heap  far inside, and  sleeps  on it  for a bed.
Later he used to crawl  out of the great gate and come by night to Dale, and
carry away people, especially maidens,  to eat, until  Dale  was ruined, and
all  the  people  dead or  gone. What  goes on there  now  I don't  know for
certain,  but I don't suppose anyone  lives nearer  to the Mountain than the
far edge of the Long Lake now-a-days.
     "The few of  us that  were well outside  sat and  wept  in hiding,  and
cursed  Smaug;  and there  we were  unexpectedly joined by my father  and my
grandfather with  singed  beards. They looked  very grim but they said  very
little. When I asked how  they had got away, they told me to hold my tongue,
and said that one day in the proper time  I should know. After that we  went
away, and we have had to earn our livings as  best we could up and down  the
lands, often  enough  sinking as low as blacksmith-work  or even coalmining.
But  we have never forgotten  our stolen treasure. And even now, when I will
allow we have a  good bit laid by and  are  not so  badly  off"-here  Thorin
stroked the gold chain round  his neck-"we still mean to get it back, and to
bring our curses home to Smaug-if we can.
     "I have often wondered about my father's and my grandfather's escape. I
see now they must have  had a private Side-door which only  they knew about.
But apparently they made a map, and I  should  like to know how Gandalf  got
hold of it, and why it did not come down to me, the rightful heir."
     "I did not 'get hold of it,' I was given it," said the wizard.
     "Your grandfather Thror was killed, you remember, in the mines of Moria
by Azog the Goblin --"
     "Curse his name, yes," said Thorin.
     "And Thrain your  father  went away  on the twenty-first  of  April,  a
hundred years ago last Thursday, and has never been seen by you since--"
     "True, true," said Thorin.
     "Well, your father gave me this to give to you; and if I have chosen my
own  time and  way of handing  it over, you can hardly blame me, considering
the trouble I had to find you.  Your father could not remember his  own name
when he  gave me the paper, and he never  told me yours;  so on the whole  I
think  I ought to  be praised and thanked. Here it is," said  he handing the
map to Thorin.
     "I don't understand," said Thorin, and  Bilbo  felt he would have liked
to say the same. The explanation did not seem to explain.
     "Your grandfather," said the wizard slowly and grimly, "gave the map to
his son for safety before he went to the  mines  of Moria.  Your father went
away  to try his luck with  the map after your grandfather was  killed;  and
lots of adventures of a most unpleasant sort he had,  but he  never got near
the Mountain. How he got there I  don't know, but I found him a prisoner  in
the dungeons of the Necromancer."
     "Whatever  were you doing there?" asked Thorin  with a shudder, and all
the dwarves shivered.
     "Never you  mind.  I was  finding things out,  as  usual; and  a  nasty
dangerous  business it was. Even  I,  Gandalf, only just escaped. I tried to
save your father, but it was too late. He was witless and wandering, and had
forgotten almost everything except the  map and the key." "We  have long ago
paid  the goblins of  Moria," said Thorin;  "we must give  a thought to  the
Necromancer." "Don't  be absurd! He is an enemy quite beyond  the powers  of
all the dwarves put together, if they could all be collected again from  the
four corners of the world. The one thing your father wished was for his  son
to read the map and use the key. The dragon  and the Mountain are  more than
big enough tasks for you!"
     "Hear, hear!" said  Bilbo, and accidentally said it aloud, "Hear what?"
they all said turning suddenly towards him, and he was so  flustered that he
answered "Hear what I have got to say!" "What's that?" they asked.
     "Well,  I  should say that you ought to go East and  have a look round.
After  all there  is  the Side-door,  and  dragons must  sleep sometimes,  I
suppose. If you sit on the doorstep long enough, I daresay you will think of
something. And well, don't you know, I think  we have talked long enough for
one night, if  you see what I mean. What about bed, and  an early start, and
all that? I will give you a good breakfast before you go."
     "Before  we go, I  suppose  you  mean,"  said  Thorin. "Aren't  you the
burglar?  And isn't  sitting  on the door-step your  job,  not to  speak  of
getting inside  the door? But I  agree  about bed and breakfast. I like eggs
with my ham, when starting on  a  journey: fried  not  poached, and mind you
don't break 'em."
     After all the others had ordered their  breakfasts without so much as a
please (which annoyed Bilbo  very much), they  all got up. The hobbit had to
find room  for  them  all, and filled all his spare-rooms and  made  beds on
chairs and sofas,  before he got them all stowed and went to his  own little
bed  very tired and not altogether happy. One thing he did make his mind  up
about was not to  bother to get  up  very  early  and cook  everybody else's
wretched  breakfast.  The Tookishness  was wearing off, and he  was  not now
quite so sure that he was going on any journey in the morning. As he lay  in
bed he could  hear Thorin still humming to himself in the best  bedroom next
to him:

     Far over the misty mountains cold
     To dungeons deep and caverns old
     We must away, ere break of day,
     To find our long-forgotten gold.

     Bilbo  went  to  sleep  with that  in  his  ears, and it gave  him very
uncomfortable dreams. It was long after the break of day, when he woke up.

Chapter 2. Roast Mutton

     Up  jumped  Bilbo,  and  putting  on  his dressing-gown  went  into the
dining-room. There he saw nobody, but all the signs of  a large and  hurried
breakfast.  There  was  a fearful  mess in the  room,  and piles of unwashed
crocks  in the kitchen. Nearly every pot and pan he possessed seemed to have
been  used.  The washing-up was so dismally real that  Bilbo  was forced  to
believe  the party of the night  before had not been part of his bad dreams,
as he had  rather  hoped. Indeed he was really  relieved after all  to think
that they had all gone  without him,  and without  bothering to wake him  up
("but  with never a  thank-you" he thought); and yet in a  way  he could not
help feeling just a trifle disappointed. The feeling surprised him.
     "Don't  be  a  fool, Bilbo Baggins!"  he said  to himself, "thinking of
dragons  and  all that outlandish  nonsense at your age!"  So  be put  on an
apron, lit fires, boiled  water, and washed up.  Then  he had a nice  little
breakfast in the kitchen  before turning out the  dining-room. By  that time
the sun  was shining; and the front door was  open, letting in a warm spring
breeze. Bilbo began to whistle loudly and to forget about the night  before.
In fact  he was just sitting down to  a nice little  second breakfast in the
dining-room by the open window,  when  in  walked Gandalf. "My dear fellow,"
said he, "whenever are you going  to come? What about  an  early  start?-and
here  you are having  breakfast, or whatever  you call it, at half past ten!
They left you the message, because they could not wait."
     "What message?" said poor Mr. Baggins all in a fluster.
     "Great  Elephants!" said Gandalf, "you are  not  at  all  yourself this
morning-you have never dusted the mantel- piece!"
     "What's that got to do with it? I have had enough to do with washing up
for fourteen!"
     "If you had dusted the mantelpiece you would have found this just under
the clock,"  said Gandalf, handing Bilbo a note (written, of course, on  his
own note-paper).
     This is what he read:

     "Thorin and Company to Burglar Bilbo greeting!
     For  your  hospitality  our sincerest  thanks, and  for  your offer  of
professional assistance our grateful acceptance. Terms: cash on delivery, up
to and not exceeding one fourteenth of total profits (if any); all traveling
expenses guaranteed in any event; funeral  expenses to be  defrayed by us or
our  representatives, if occasion  arises and  the matter  is not  otherwise
arranged for.
     "Thinking  it  unnecessary  to  disturb your esteemed  repose,  we have
proceeded  in  advance to make requisite  preparations, and shall await your
respected  person at  the  Green Dragon Inn,  Bywater,  at  II  a.m.  sharp.
Trusting that you will be punctual.

     "We have the honour to remain
     "Yours deeply
     "Thorin & Co."

     "That leaves you just ten minutes. You will have to run," said Gandalf.
     "But--" said Bilbo.
     "No time for it," said the wizard.
     "But--"said Bilbo again.
     "No time for that either! Off you go!"
     To the end of his days Bilbo could  never remember how he found himself
outside, without a hat,  walking-stick or say money,  or  anything  that  he
usually took  when he went out; leaving his  second breakfast  half-finished
and quite unwashed-up, pushing his keys into Gandalf's hands, and running as
fast as his furry feet could carry  him down the lane, past the  great Mill,
across The Water, and then on for a whole mile or more. Very puffed  he was,
when he got to  Bywater just on the stroke of eleven,  and found he had come
without a pocket-handkerchief!
     "Bravo!" said  Balin who  was standing at the  inn door looking out for
him.
     Just  then all  the others  came  round the corner of the road from the
village. They were  on ponies,  and each pony was slung about with all kinds
of  baggages, packages, parcels, and  paraphernalia.  There was a very small
pony, apparently for Bilbo.
     "Up you two get, and off we go!" said Thorin.
     "I'm awfully sorry," said Bilbo, "but I have come without my hat, and I
have left my  pocket-handkerchief  behind, and I haven't  got  any money.  I
didn't get your note until after 10.45 to be precise."
     "Don't  be precise," said  Dwalin, "and don't worry!  You will have  to
manage without  pocket-handkerchiefs, and  a good many  other things, before
you  get to the journey's end.  As for a  hat, I have got  a spare  hood and
cloak in my luggage."
     That's how  they all came to start, jogging off from the inn  one  fine
morning just before May, on laden ponies; and Bilbo was wearing a dark-green
hood (a little weather-stained) and a dark-green cloak borrowed from Dwalin.
They  were too large for  him, and  he looked rather comic. What  his father
Bungo would have thought of him, I daren't think.  His  only  comfort was he
couldn't be mistaken for a dwarf, as he had no beard.
     They had not been riding  very long when up  came Gandalf very splendid
on a white  horse. He had brought a lot of pocket-handkerchiefs, and Bilbo's
pipe and tobacco. So after  that the party went along very merrily, and they
told stories or sang songs as  they rode  forward all  day, except of course
when they stopped for meals. These didn't come quite as often as Bilbo would
have liked them, but still he began  to feel that adventures were not so bad
after all. At first they had passed through hobbit-lands, a wild respectable
country inhabited by decent folk,  with good roads, an  inn or  two, and now
and then a dwarf or a farmer ambling by on business. Then they came to lands
where  people spoke strangely, and sang songs Bilbo had never heard  before.
Now  they had gone  on far into the Lone-lands, where  there  were no people
left, no inns, and the roads  grew steadily worse. Not far ahead were dreary
hills, rising higher and higher, dark with  trees. On some of them were  old
castles with  an  evil look,  as  if they  had  been built by wicked people.
Everything seemed gloomy, for the weather that  day had  taken a nasty turn.
Mostly it had been as good as  May can  be, even in  merry tales, but now it
was cold and wet. In the Lone-lands they had to camp when they could, but at
least it had been dry. "To think it will soon be June," grumbled Bilbo as he
splashed  along  behind the  others  in  a  very muddy  track. It  was after
tea-time;  it  was  pouring with rain,  and had been  all  day; his hood was
dripping into his eyes, his cloak was full  of water; the pony was tired and
stumbled on stones; the others were  too  grumpy to talk. "And  I'm sure the
rain  has got  into the dry clothes and into the food-bags," thought  Bilbo.
"Bother burgling and everything to do  with it! I  wish I was  at home in my
nice hole by the fire, with the kettle just beginning  to sing!" It  was not
the last time that he wished that!
     Still the  dwarves jogged on, never  turning round or taking any notice
of the hobbit. Somewhere behind the grey clouds the sun must have gone down,
for it began to get dark. Wind  got up, and the willows along the river-bank
bent and sighed.  I don't know what river it was, a rushing red one, swollen
with the  rains of the last  few  days, that came  down  from the hills  and
mountains in front of them. Soon it was nearly  dark. The winds broke up the
grey clouds, and a waning moon appeared above the  hills between  the flying
rags. Then  they stopped, and  Thorin  muttered something about supper, "and
where shall we get a dry patch to sleep on?" Not  until then did they notice
that  Gandalf was missing. So far he had come all the  way with them,  never
saying if he  was  in the  adventure  or merely keeping  them company  for a
while. He had  eaten  most, talked most, and laughed most. But now he simply
was not there at all!
     "Just when a wizard would have been most useful, too," groaned Dori and
Nori (who shared the hobbit's views  about regular meals, plenty and often).
They decided in the end that they would have to camp where they were. So far
they  had not  camped before on this journey, and though they knew that they
soon would have  to camp regularly, when they were among the Misty Mountains
and far from the lands of respectable people, it seemed a bad wet evening to
begin, on. They  moved to a clump of  trees,  and though it was  drier under
them, the wind  shook the rain off the leaves, and the drip, drip, was  most
annoying. Also  the mischief  seemed to have  got into the fire. Dwarves can
make a fire almost anywhere out of almost anything, wind  or  no  wind;  but
they could not do it that night, not even Oin and Gloin,  who were specially
good at it.
     Then one of the ponies took fright  at nothing  and bolted. He got into
the river before they could catch  him;  and  before they could get  him out
again, Fili and Kili  were  nearly  drowned,  and  all the  baggage that  he
carried was washed away off him. Of course it was mostly food, and there was
mighty little left for supper, and  less  for breakfast. There they all  sat
glum and wet and muttering, while Oin and  Gloin went on trying to light the
fire, and quarrelling about  it.  Bilbo was sadly reflecting that adventures
are not all pony-rides  in May-sunshine, when Balin,  who was  always  their
look-out man, said: "There's a light over  there!" There was a hill some way
off  with trees on  it, pretty thick in parts. Out of the dark  mass  of the
trees they  could now  see a light shining,  a  reddish  comfortable-looking
light, as it  might be a fire or  torches twinkling. When they had looked at
it for some while, they fell to arguing. Some said "no" and some said "yes."
Some said they  could but go  and see, and anything was  better than  little
supper, less breakfast,  and wet clothes all the night.  Others said: "These
parts are none too well  known,  and are  too near the mountains. Travellers
seldom come this way  now.  The old maps are no use: things have changed for
the worse and the road is unguarded. They have seldom even heard of the king
round  here, and  the  less  inquisitive you  are as you  go along, the less
trouble you are likely to find." Some said: "After all there are fourteen of
us." Others said:  "Where has Gandalf got to?" This  remark was repeated  by
everybody. Then the rain  began to pour down  worse than ever,  and  Oin and
Gloin began to fight. That settled it. "After all we have got a burglar with
us," they said; and so they made off, leading their ponies (with all due and
proper caution)  in the direction of the light. They  came to the  hill  and
were soon  in the wood. Up the hill they went; but there  was no proper path
to be seen, such as might lead to a house or a farm;  and do what they could
they made a deal of rustling and crackling and creaking (and  a good deal of
grumbling and drafting), as they went through the trees in the pitch dark.
     Suddenly the  red light shone out very  bright through the  tree-trunks
not  far ahead.  "Now it is  the  burglar's turn," they said, meaning Bilbo.
"You must go  on and find out all about that light, and  what it is for, and
if all is perfectly safe and canny," said Thorin to the hobbit. "Now scuttle
off, and come back  quick,  if all is well. If not, come back if you can! It
you  can't, hoot twice  like  a barn-owl and once like a screech-owl, and we
will do what we can."
     Off  Bilbo  had to go, before  he could explain  that he could not hoot
even once like any kind of owl any more than fly like a bat. But at any rate
hobbits can move quietly in woods,  absolutely quietly. They take a pride in
it, and  Bilbo  had sniffed  more than  once  at what  he  called  "all this
dwarvish racket," as they went along, though I don't sup-pose you or I would
notice  anything  at  all on a  windy night, not if  the whole cavalcade had
passed  two feet off. As for Bilbo walking primly  towards the  red light, I
don't  suppose  even  a  weasel would  have stirred  a whisker  at  it.  So,
naturally, he  got  right up to the fire-for  fire it was without disturbing
anyone. And this is  what he saw.  Three very large persons  sitting round a
very large fire of  beech-logs. They were  toasting mutton on  long spits of
wood, and  licking the gravy off their fingers.  There  was a fine toothsome
smell. Also there was a barrel of good drink at hand, and they were drinking
out of jugs. But they were trolls. Obviously trolls. Even Bilbo, in spite of
his  sheltered life, could see that: from the great heavy faces of them, and
their  size, and  the shape  of their legs,  not  to mention their language,
which was not drawing-room fashion at all, at all.
     "Mutton  yesterday,  mutton  today,  and blimey, if  it don't look like
mutton again tomorrer," said one of the trolls.
     "Never a blinking bit of manflesh  have we had for long enough," said a
second.  "What  the 'ell  William was  a-thinkin' of to bring us  into these
parts  at all, beats me - and the drink runnin' short, what's more," he said
jogging the elbow of William, who was taking a pull at his jug.
     William  choked. "Shut yer  mouth!" he said  as  soon as he could. "Yer
can't expect  folk  to stop here for ever  just to be  et by  you and  Bert.
You've  et a village and a half  between  yer, since  we come  down from the
mountains. How much more d'yer  want? And time's been up our way, when yer'd
have said 'thank yer  Bill'  for  a nice bit o' fat valley mutton like  what
this  is." He took  a big bite off a sheep's leg he was  toasting, and wiped
his lips on his sleeve.
     Yes, I am afraid  trolls  do behave like that, even those with only one
head each. After hearing  all this Bilbo ought  to  have  done  something at
once.  Either  he should have gone back quietly and warned  his friends that
there were three fair-sized trolls  at hand in a nasty mood, quite likely to
try toasted dwarf, or even pony, for a change; or else he should have done a
bit of good quick burgling. A really first-class and legendary burglar would
at this point have picked the trolls' pockets-it is nearly always worthwhile
if you can manage it-,  pinched the very mutton off the spite, purloined the
beer, and walked  off without their  noticing him. Others more practical but
with less professional pride would perhaps have stuck  a dagger into each of
them before they observed it. Then the night could have been spent cheerily.
     Bilbo knew it. He had read of  a good many things he had never  seen or
done. He was very much  alarmed, as well  as disgusted;  he wished himself a
hundred miles away, and yet-and yet somehow he could not go straight back to
Thorin and Company empty-handed.  So  he stood and hesitated in the shadows.
Of  the various burglarious proceedings he had heard of  picking the trolls'
pockets seemed the least  difficult, so at last he crept behind a  tree just
behind William.
     Bert and Tom went off to the barrel. William was  having another drink.
Then Bilbo plucked up courage  and put his little hand in William's enormous
pocket. There was a purse in it, as  big as a bag to Bilbo. "Ha!" thought he
warming  to  his  new  work  as  he lifted it  carefully  out,  "this  is  a
beginning!"
     It  was!  Trolls' purses are the mischief, and this was no exception. "
'Ere, 'oo are you?" it  squeaked, as it left the  pocket; and William turned
round at once and grabbed Bilbo by the neck, before he could duck behind the
tree.
     "Blimey, Bert, look what I've copped!" said William.
     "What is it?" said the others coming up.
     "Lumme, if I knows! What are yer?"
     "Bilbo Baggins, a  bur-- a  hobbit," said poor Bilbo, shaking all over,
and wondering how to make owl-noises before they throttled him.
     "A burrahobbit?"  said they  a bit startled. Trolls  are  slow  in  the
uptake, and mighty suspicious about anything new to them.
     "What's a burrahobbit got to do with my pocket, anyways?" said William.
     "And can yer cook 'em?" said Tom.
     "Yer can try," said Bert, picking up a skewer.
     "He wouldn't  make above a mouthful," said William, who had already had
a fine supper, "not when he was skinned and boned."
     "P'raps there are more  like him round about, and we might make a pie,"
said  Bert. "Here you,  are there any more of your  sort a-sneakin' in these
here woods, yer nassty little rabbit," said he looking at the hobbit's furry
feet; and he picked him up by the toes and shook him.
     "Yes, lots," said  Bilbo, before he remembered not  to give his friends
away. "No, none at all, not one," he said immediately afterwards.
     "What  d'yer mean?" said Bert,  holding him right away up,  by the hair
this time.
     "What I say," said Bilbo gasping. "And please don't cook me, kind sirs!
I am a good cook myself,  and cook  bet-ter than I cook,  if  you see what I
mean.  I'll  cook beautifully for  you, a perfectly beautiful breakfast  for
you, if only you won't have me for supper."
     "Poor little blighter," said William. He had already had as much supper
as he could hold; also he had had lots of  beer. "Poor  little blighter! Let
him go!"
     "Not till he says what he means by lots and none at all," said Bert. "I
don't want to have  me  throat  cut in me sleep. Hold his toes in  the fire,
till he talks!"
     "I won't have it," said William. "I caught him anyway."
     "You're  a  fat fool, William,"  said  Bert,  "as I've said afore  this
evening."
     "And you're a lout!"
     "And I won't take that from you. Bill Huggins," says Bert, and puts his
fist in William's eye.
     Then  there was  a gorgeous row. Bilbo  had just enough wits left, when
Bert dropped  him on the ground, to scramble out of  the  way of their feet,
before they  were  fighting like dogs, and calling  one another all sorts of
perfectly true  and applicable names in  very  loud  voices. Soon they  were
locked in one another's  arms, and  rolling nearly into the fire kicking and
thumping,  while  Tom  whacked  at then both with a branch to bring  them to
their senses-and that of course only made them  madder than ever. That would
have been the time for Bilbo to have left. But his poor little feet had been
very squashed in Bert's big paw, and  he had no breath in his  body, and his
head was going round; so there  he lay for a while panting, just outside the
circle of firelight.
     Right  in the  middle of the fight up came Balin. The dwarves had heard
noises from a  distance, and  after wait-ing for some time for Bilbo to come
back,  or to hoot like an owl, they started off one by  one to creep towards
the light as quietly as they could.  No  sooner did Tom see Balin  come into
the light than he gave an awful howl. Trolls simply detest the very sight of
dwarves (uncooked). Bert and Bill stopped fighting immediately, and "a sack,
Tom,  quick!" they said, before Balin, who was  wondering where in all  this
commotion Bilbo was, knew what was happening, a  sack was over his head, and
he was down.
     "There's more to come yet," said Tom, "or I'm mighty mistook. Lots  and
none  at all, it  is," said  he. "No burra- hobbits, but  lots of these here
dwarves. That's about the shape of it!"
     "I reckon you're  right," said  Bert,  "and  we'd best  get out of  the
light."
     And so they did. With sacks in their hands, that they used for carrying
off mutton and other plunder, they waited in the shadows. As each dwarf came
up and looked  at the fire, and the spilled  jugs, and the gnawed mutton, in
surprise, pop! went a nasty smelly sack over his head, and he was down. Soon
Dwalin  lay by Balin, and Fili  and Kili together, and Dori and Nori and Ori
all in a heap,  and  Oin and Gloin  and Bifur  and Bofur  and  Bombur  piled
uncomfortably near the fire.
     "That'll teach 'em," said Tom; for Bifur and Bombur  had given a lot of
trouble, and fought like mad, as dwarves will when cornered.
     Thorin  came last-and  he was  not caught unawares.  He  came expecting
mischief, and didn't need to see his friends' legs sticking out of sacks  to
tell him that things were not all well. He stood outside in the shadows some
way off, and said: "What's all this trouble? Who has been knocking my people
about?"
     "It's  trolls!" said Bilbo  from  behind a tree. They had forgotten all
about him. "They're hiding in the bushes with sacks," said he.
     "O! are  they?" said Thorin, and he  jumped forward to the fire, before
they could leap  on him.  He caught up a big branch  all on fire at one end;
and Bert got that end in his eye  before he  could step aside. That put  him
out of the  battle for a bit.  Bilbo  did his best. He caught hold of  Tom's
leg-as well as he could, it was thick as a young tree-trunk -but he was sent
spinning up into the top of  some  bushes, when Tom kicked the  sparks up in
Thorin's face.
     Tom got  the  branch in  his  teeth for that, and lost one of the front
ones. It made him howl, I can tell you. But just at that moment William came
up behind  and popped a sack right over Thorin's head  and down to his toes.
And so the fight  ended. A nice pickle they were all in now: all neatly tied
up in  sacks, with three  angry  trolls  (and two  with burns and bashes  to
remember) sitting by them, arguing whether they should roast them slowly, or
mince them  fine and boil them,  or just sit on them one  by one  and squash
them into jelly: and Bilbo up in a bush, with his clothes and his skin torn,
not daring to move for fear they should hear him.

     It was just then that Gandalf came back. But no one saw him. The trolls
had just decided to roast the dwarves now and eat them later-that was Bert's
idea, and after a lot of argument they had all agreed to it.
     "No  good roasting  'em  now, it'd take all night,"  said a voice. Bert
thought it was William's.
     "Don't  start  the argument all over-again. Bill," he said, "or it will
take all night."
     "Who's  a-arguing?" said  William,  who thought it  was. Bert  that had
spoken.
     "You are," said Bert.
     "You're a liar,"  said William; and so the argument beg all over again.
In the  end  they decided  to  mince  them fine and boil them. So they got a
black pot, and they took out their knives.
     "No good boiling 'em! We ain't got no water, and it's a long way to the
well and all," said a voice. Bert and William thought it was Tom's.
     "Shut up!" said they,  "or we'll never have done. And yer can fetch the
water yerself, if yer say any more."
     "Shut up yerself!" said Tom, who thought it was William's voice. "Who's
arguing but you. I'd like to know."
     "You're a booby," said William.
     "Booby yerself!" said Tom.
     And so the argument began all over again, and went on hotter than ever,
until at  last they decided to sit on the sacks one by one  and squash them,
and boil them next time.
     "Who shall we sit on first?" said the voice.
     "Better sit on the  last  fellow first," said Bert, whose eye  had been
damaged by Thorin. He thought Tom was talking.
     "Don't talk to yerself!" said Tom. "But if you wants to sit on the last
one, sit on him. Which is he?"
     "The one with the yellow stockings," said Bert.
     "Nonsense,  the  one  with  the  grey  stockings,"  said  a voice  like
William's.
     "I made sure it was yellow," said Bert.
     "Yellow it was," said William.
     "Then what did yer say it was grey for?" said Bert.
     "I never did. Tom said it."
     "That I never did!" said Tom. "It was you."
     "Two to one, so shut yer mouth!" said Bert.
     "Who are you a-talkin' to?" said William.
     "Now stop it!" said Tom and Bert together. "The night's gettin' on, and
dawn comes early. Let's get on with it!"
     "Dawn  take you all, and  be stone  to  you!" said a voice that sounded
like William's.  But it wasn't. For just  at that moment the light came over
the hill, and  there  was  a mighty twitter  in the branches.  William never
spoke for  he stood  turned to  stone as he stooped; and  Bert and  Tom were
stuck  like rocks as they looked at him.  And there they stand  to this day,
all alone, unless the birds perch on them; for trolls, as you probably know,
must  be  underground  before  dawn, or they  go back  to  the stuff of  the
mountains they are made of, and never move again. That is  what had happened
to Bert and Tom and William.
     "Excellent!" said Gandalf, as he stepped from behind a tree, and helped
Bilbo to climb  down out of a thorn-bush. Then Bilbo  understood. It was the
wizard's voice that had kept the trolls bickering and quarrelling, until the
light came and made an end of them.
     The next thing  was to untie the  sacks and let out  the dwarves.  They
were nearly suffocated, and very annoyed: they had  not at all enjoyed lying
there listening  to the trolls making  plans for roasting them and squashing
them and mincing them. They had to hear Bilbo's account of what had happened
to him twice over, before they were satisfied.
     "Silly time to go practising pinching and pocket-picking," said Bombur,
"when what we wanted was fire and food!"
     "And that's just what you  wouldn't have got of those fellows without a
struggle, in any case," said Gandalf.
     "Anyhow  you are  wasting time  now. Don't you realize that the  trolls
must have  a cave or  a hole dug somewhere near to hide from  the sun in? We
must look into it!"
     They searched about, and soon found  the  marks of  trolls' stony boots
going away through  the trees. They followed the tracks up  the  hill, until
hidden  by bushes they came on a big door  of stone  leading to a cave.  But
they  could not open  it,  not though  they  all pushed while Gandalf  tried
various incantations.
     "Would this be any good?" asked Bilbo, when they were getting tired and
angry. "I found it  on the ground where the trolls had their fight." He held
out a largish  key, though no doubt William had thought  it  very small  and
secret. It  must have fallen out  of his pocket, very luckily, before he was
turned to stone.
     "Why on earth didn't you mention it before?" they cried.
     Gandalf grabbed it and fitted it into the key-hole. Then the stone door
swung back with one big push, and they all went inside. There  were bones on
the floor and a nasty smell  was in  the air; but there  was a good  deal of
food jumbled carelessly on shelves and on the ground, among an untidy litter
of  plunder,  of all sorts from  brass buttons to  pots full  of gold  coins
standing  in  a corner.  There were  lots  of clothes,  too, hanging on  the
walls-too small  for trolls,  I am afraid they belonged to victims-and among
them were  several swords of various  makes, shapes, and  sizes. Two  caught
their  eyes particularly, because of their beautiful  scabbards and jewelled
hilts. Gandalf and Thorin each took one of these; and  Bilbo took a knife in
a leather sheath. It would have made only  a tiny pocket-knife for a  troll,
but it was as good as a short sword for the hobbit.
     "These look like good blades," said  the  wizard, half drawing them and
looking  at  them curiously. "They were not  made by  any troll, nor by  any
smith  among men in these parts and days; but when we can read  the runes on
them, we shall know more about them."
     "Let's get  out of this horrible smell!" said Fili So  they carried out
the pots of coins,  and such food as was un-touched and  looked fit  to eat,
also one  barrel of ale which was still  full.  By that time  they felt like
breakfast, and being very  hungry they did  not turn their noses up  at what
they had got from the trolls' larder. Their own provisions were very scanty.
Now they had bread and cheese, and  plenty of ale, and bacon to toast in the
embers  of the  fire. After  that  they  slept,  for  their  night had  been
disturbed; (and  they  did  nothing more  till  the afternoon. Then  they  I
brought up their ponies, and carried  away the pots of gold, and buried them
very secretly  not  far from  the  track  by the river, putting a great many
spells  over them, just in  case they ever  had the-chance to  come back and
recover them. When that was done, they  all  mounted  once  more, and jogged
along again on the path towards the East.
     "Where did you go to,  if  I may ask?" said Thorin to  Gandalf as  they
rode along.
     "To look ahead," said he.
     "And what brought you back in the nick of time?"
     "Looking behind," said he.
     "Exactly!" said Thorin; "but could you be more plain?"
     "I  went on  to spy out  our  road. It will  soon  become dangerous and
difficult.  Also  I  was  anxious  about replenishing  our  small  stock  of
provisions. I had not gone very far, however, when I met a couple of friends
of mine from Rivendell."
     "Where's that?" asked Bilbo,
     "Don't interrupt!" said Gandalf. "You will get there in a few days now,
if we're lucky,  and  find out  all about it As  I was saying I  met  two of
Elrond's people. They  were hurrying  along  for fear of the trolls. It  was
they who  told me  that  three of  them had come down from the mountains and
settled  in  the woods  not far from the road;  they had frightened everyone
away from the district, and they waylaid strangers.
     "I immediately  had a feeling that I was wanted back. Looking  behind I
saw a fire in the  distance and made for it. So now you know. Please be more
careful, next time, or we shall never get anywhere!"
     "Thank you!" said Thorin.

Chapter 3. A Short Rest

     They did not sing or tell stories  that day, even  though  the  weather
improved; nor the next day, nor the day after.  They had  begun to feel that
danger was  not far away  on  either side. They camped under the stars,  and
their horses had more to eat than they  had; for there was plenty of  grass,
but there was not much in their bags,  even with  what they had got from the
trolls. One morning they forded a river at a  wide shallow place full of the
noise of stones and foam. The far bank was steep and slippery. When they got
to the top  of it, leading  their ponies, they saw that the  great mountains
had marched down very near to them. Already they I seemed  only a day's easy
journey from the feet of the nearest. Dark and drear it looked, though there
were patches of  sunlight on  its  brown sides, and behind its shoulders the
tips of snow-peaks gleamed.
     "Is that The Mountain?" asked Bilbo  in a solemn voice, looking  at  it
with round eyes. He had never seen a thing that looked so big before.
     "Of course not!" said  Balin. "That is only the beginning  of the Misty
Mountains, and we  have to get through, or  over, or  under  those  somehow,
before we can come into Wilderland beyond. And it is  a deal  of a  way even
from  the other side of them to  the Lonely Mountain in the East Where Smaug
lies on our treasure."
     "O!" said Bilbo, and  just at  that moment he felt  more fared than  he
ever  remembered  feeling  before.  He  was   thinking  once  again  of  his
comfortable  chair  before  the  fire in his favourite  sitting-room  in his
hobbit-hole, and of the kettle singing. Not for the last time!
     Now Gandalf  led the way. "We  must  not miss the road, or we shall  be
done for," he said. "We need  food, for one  thing, and  rest in  reasonable
safety-also it is very necessary to tackle the Misty Mountains by the proper
path, or else you will get lost in them, and have to come  back and start at
the beginning again (if you ever get back at all)."
     They asked him where he was making for,  and he answered: "You are come
to the very edge  of the  Wild, as some  of you  may know. Hidden  somewhere
ahead of us is the fair valley of Rivendell  where Elrond lives in the  Last
Homely House. I sent a message by my friends, and we are expected."
     That sounded nice and comforting, but they  had not got  there yet, and
it was not  so easy as  it sounds to  find the Last Homely House west of the
Mountains. There seemed to be no trees and no valleys and  no hills to break
the ground  in  front of them, only one vast slope going slowly up and up to
meet the feet of the nearest mountain, a wide land the colour of heather and
crumbling  rock,  with patches  and  slashes  of grass-green and  moss-green
showing where water might be.
     Morning  passed,  afternoon came; but in all the silent waste there was
no sign  of any dwelling. They were growing anxious, for they  now saw  that
the house might be  hidden  almost  anywhere between them and the mountains.
They came  on  unexpected  valleys, narrow  with  deep  sides,  that  opened
suddenly at their  feet, and they  looked  down surprised to see trees below
them  and  running water at the bottom. There  were gullies  that they could
almost leap  over;  but  very deep with waterfalls in them. There  were dark
ravines that one could neither jump nor climb into. There were bogs, some of
them green pleasant places  to look at with flowers growing bright and tall;
but a pony  that walked there with a pack on its back would never  have come
out again.
     It was indeed  a  much wider land from the ford to the  mountains  than
ever you would have  guessed. Bilbo was astonished. The only path was marked
with white  stones  some of which  were small, and others were  half covered
with moss or heather. Altogether it  was a very  slow business following the
track, even guided by Gandalf, who seemed to know his way about pretty well.
     His head  and beard  wagged  this  way and that as he  looked  for  the
stones, and they followed his head, but they  seemed no nearer to the end of
the search when the day began  to fail. Tea-time had long  gone  by,  and it
seemed  supper-time would  soon  do  the  same. There were  moths fluttering
about, and the light became very dim, for  the  moon had not  risen. Bilbo's
pony  began to  stumble over roots  and stones. They  came  to the edge of a
steep fall in  the ground  so  suddenly that Gandalf s horse  nearly slipped
down the slope.
     "Here it is at last!" he called, and the others  gathered round him and
looked over the edge. They saw a valley far below. They could hear the voice
of hurrying water in rocky  bed at the bottom; the scent of trees was in the
air; and there was a  light on the valley-side across the water. Bilbo never
forgot the way they slithered and slipped in the dusk down the steep zig-zag
path into  the secret  valley of Rivendell. The air grew  warmer as they got
lower, and the smell of  the pine-trees  made him drowsy, so  that every now
and  again he  nodded and  nearly fell off, or bumped his nose on the pony's
neck. Their  spirits rose as  they  went down and down. The trees changed to
beech and oak,  and hire was a comfortable feeling in the twilight. The last
green had almost faded out of the grass, when they came at length to an open
glade not far above the banks of the stream.
     "Hrnmm! it smells  like elves!" thought Bilbo, and he looked up  at the
stars. They were  burning  bright and blue.  Just then there came a burst of
song like laughter in the trees:

     O! What are you doing,
     And where are you going?
     Your ponies need shoeing!
     The river is flowing!
     O! tra-la-la-lally
     here down in the valley!

     O! What are you seeking,
     And where are you making?
     The faggots are reeking,
     The bannocks are baking!
     O! tril-lil-lil-lolly
     the valley is jolly,
     ha! ha!

     O! Where are you going
     With beards all a-wagging?
     No knowing, no knowing
     What brings Mister Baggins,
     And Balin and Dwalin
     down into the valley
     in June
     ha! ha!

     O! Will you be staying,
     Or will you be flying?
     Your ponies are straying!
     The daylight is dying!
     To fly would be folly,
     To stay would be jolly
     And listen and hark
     Till the end of the dark
     to our tune
     ha! ha.'

     So  they  laughed and sang  in  the  trees; and pretty  fair nonsense I
daresay you think it. Not that they would care they would only laugh all the
more  if you told  them  so. They were elves  of  course. Soon  Bilbo caught
glimpses of them as the darkness deepened. He loved elves, though he  seldom
met them; but he was a  little  frightened of them too. Dwarves don't get on
well with them. Even decent enough dwarves like Thorin and his friends think
them foolish (which is a very foolish thing to  think), or get annoyed  with
them. For some elves tease them and laugh at them,  and most of all at their
beards.
     "Well, well!" said a voice. "Just look! Bilbo the hobbit on a  pony, my
dear! Isn't it delicious!"
     "Most astonishing wonderful!"
     Then off they went into another song  as  ridiculous as the  one I have
written  down in full.  At last one, a tall young fellow,  came out from the
trees and bowed to Gandalf and to Thorin.
     "Welcome to the valley!" he said.
     "Thank you!" said Thorin a bit gruffly; but Gandalf was already off his
horse and among the elves, talking merrily with them.
     "You are a little out of your  way," said the elf: "that is, if you are
making for the  only path  across the water and to the house beyond. We will
set you right,  but you had best get on foot, until you are over the bridge.
Are you going  to stay a bit  and sing  with us, or will you go straight on?
Supper  is preparing over there," he said. "I can smell  the  Wood-fires for
the cooking."
     Tired  as he was, Bilbo would have liked to stay awhile. Elvish singing
is not a thing to miss, in  June under the stars,  not if you care  for such
things. Also  he  would have  liked to have  a few  private words with these
people that seemed to know his name and all about him, although he had never
been  them before.  He thought their  opinion  of  his  adventure  might  be
interesting. Elves know a lot and are wondrous  folk for news, and know what
is  going  on among the peoples  of the  land,  as quick  as water flows, or
quicker. But the dwarves were all for supper as soon 'as possible just then,
and would not stay. On they all went,  leading their ponies,  till they were
brought to a good path and so at last to the very brink of the river. It was
flowing fast and noisily,  as mountain-streams do  of a summer evening, when
sun has been all day  on the  snow far up above.  There  was  only a  narrow
bridge of stone without  a parapet, as narrow as a pony could well walk  on;
and over that they had to go, slow and careful, one by one, each leading his
pony  by the bridle. The elves had brought bright lanterns to the shore, and
they sang a merry song as the party went across.
     "Don't dip your beard in the foam,  father!" they cried  to Thorin, who
was bent  almost  on to his hands  and  knees. "It  is  long  enough without
watering it."
     "Mind Bilbo doesn't eat all the cakes!"  they called. "He is too fat to
get through key-holes yet!"
     "Hush, hush! Good People! and good night!" said Gandalf, who came last.
"Valleys have ears, and some elves have over merry tongues. Good night!"
     And  so at last they  all came to the Last Homely House,  and found its
doors flung wide.
     Now it  is a strange  thing,  but things that are good to have and days
that are good to spend are soon told about, and not much to listen to; while
things that are uncomfortable,  palpitating, and even gruesome,  may  make a
good tale, and take a deal  of telling anyway. They stayed long in that good
house,  fourteen days at least, and they found it hard to leave. Bilbo would
gladly have stopped there for ever and ever-even supposing a wish would have
taken him right back to his hobbit-hole without trouble. Yet there is little
to tell about their stay.
     The  master of the house  was  an elf-friend-one of those people  whose
fathers came into  the strange stories before the beginning  of History, the
wars of  the evil goblins and the  elves and  the first men in the North. In
those days of  our tale there were still some people who had both  elves and
heroes  of the North for ancestors, and Elrond the master  of the  house was
their chief. He was as noble and as fair in  face as  an elf-lord, as strong
as a warrior, as wise as a wizard, as venerable as a king of dwarves, and as
kind  as  summer. He comes into.  many  tales, but his part in  the story of
Bilbo's great adventure is only a  small one, though  important, as you will
see, if we ever get to the end  of  it.  His house was perfect,  whether you
liked food, or sleep, or work, or story-telling, or singing, or just sitting
and  thinking best, or a pleasant mixture  of them all. Evil things did  not
come into that valley.
     I wish I had time to tell  you even a few of the tales or one or two of
the songs that  they heard in that  house. All of  them, the ponies as well,
grew refreshed and strong in a few  days there. Their clothes were mended as
well as their bruises, their tempers and their hopes. Their bags were filled
with food and  provisions light to  carry but strong to  bring them over the
mountain passes. Their plans were improved with the best advice. So the time
came to mid- summer eve, and they were  to go on again with the early sun on
midsummer morning.
     Elrond knew all about runes of  every kind.  That day  he looked at the
swords they had brought  from the trolls' lair, and he  said: "These are not
troll-make.  They are old swords,  very old swords of the High Elves of  the
West, my kin. They were made in Gondolin for the Goblin-wars. They must have
come from a  dragon's hoard or  goblin  plunder,  for  dragons  and  goblins
destroyed that city many ages ago. This, Thorin, the runes name Orcrist, the
Goblin-cleaver  in the  ancient tongue of  Gondolin; it  was a famous blade.
This, Gandalf,  was  Glamdring, Foe-hammer  that the  king of Gondolin  once
wore. Keep them well!"
     "Whence did the trolls get them, I  wonder?" said Thorin looking at his
sword with new interest.
     "I could not say," said Elrond, "but one may guess that your trolls had
plundered other plunderers, or come on the remnants of old robberies in some
hold  in the  mountains of  the North.  I  have heard that there  are  still
forgotten  treasures of old to be found in the deserted caverns of the mines
of Moria, since the dwarf and goblin war."
     Thorin  pondered these  words. "I will keep  this sword in honour,"  he
said. "May it soon cleave goblins once again!"
     "A wish  that is likely  to be granted  soon enough  in the mountains!"
said Elrond. "But show  me now your map!" He took  it and gazed  long at it,
and he shook his head; for if he did  not altogether  approve of dwarves and
their love  of  gold,  he hated  dragons and their cruel wickedness, and  he
grieved  to remember the  ruin of the town of  Dale and its merry bells, and
the  burned banks  of the bright  River Running.  The moon was  shining in a
broad silver crescent. He held up the map and the  white light shone through
it. "What is this?" he said. "There  are moon-letters here, beside the plain
runes which say 'five feet high the door and three may walk abreast.' "
     "What are moon-letters?" asked  the hobbit full of excitement. He loved
maps,  as I have told you before;  and he  also liked  runes and letters and
cunning  handwriting, though when  he  wrote himself  it was  a bit thin and
spidery.
     "Moon-letters are rune-letters, but you cannot see them,"  said Elrond,
"not when  you  look straight at  them. They can  only be seen when the moon
shines behind them, and what is more, with the more cunning sort  it must be
a moon of the same shape and season as the  day when they were written.  The
dwarves invented them and wrote them with silver pens, as your friends could
tell you. These must have been written on  a midsummer's eve  in  a crescent
moon, a long while ago."
     "What do  they  say?"  asked  Gandalf and Thorin together, a bit  vexed
perhaps that  even Elrond should  have found  this out first,  though really
there  had not  been a chance before,  and there would not have been another
until goodness knows when.
     "Stand by the grey stone when the thrush knocks," read Elrond, "and the
setting  sun  with  the  last light  of Durin's  Day  will  shine  upon  the
key-hole."
     "Durin,  Durin!" said Thorin. "He was the father of  the fathers of the
eldest  race  of  Dwarves,  the Longbeards, and my first ancestor: I am  his
heir."
     "Then what is Durin's Day?" asked Elrond.
     "The  first day  of the dwarves'  New  Year," said Thorin, "is  as  all
should know the first,  day of the last moon of  Autumn on the threshold  of
Winter. We still call it Durin's Day when the  last  moon of  Autumn and the
sun are in the sky  together. But this will not help us much, I fear, for it
passes our skill in these days to guess when such a time will come again."
     "That remains to be seen," said Gandalf. "Is there any more writing?"
     "None to be  seen  by this moon," said Elrond, and he gave the map back
to Thorin;  and then they went down to the water  to see the elves dance and
sing upon the midsummer's eve.
     The next morning was a midsummer's morning as  fair and fresh  as could
be dreamed: blue sky  and never a  cloud,  and the sun dancing on the water.
Now  they rode away amid songs of farewell and good speed, with their hearts
ready for more adventure, and with a  knowledge of the road they must follow
over the Misty Mountains to the land beyond.

Chapter 4. Over Hill and Under Hill

     There were many paths that led up into those mountains, and many passes
over them.  But most of the paths were cheats and deceptions and led nowhere
or  to  bad ends;  and  most of the passes  were infested by evil things and
dreadful dangers. The dwarves  and the hobbit, helped by the  wise advice of
Elrond  and the knowledge and memory of Gandalf,  took the right road to the
right pass.
     Long  days after they had climbed out  of the valley  and left the Last
Homely  House miles behind, they were still going up and up and up. It was a
hard path and a  dangerous path, a  crooked way and a lonely and a long. Now
they could look back over the lands  they had left, laid out behind them far
below. Far, far  away in the  West, where things were  blue and faint, Bilbo
knew there lay his  own  country  of  safe and comfortable  things, and  his
little hobbit-hole. He shivered. It was getting bitter cold up here, and the
wind  came shrill among  the rocks.  Boulders, too, at times came  galloping
down the mountain-sides,  let loose by midday sun upon the snow,  and passed
among them (which was lucky), or over their heads (which was alarming).  The
nights were comfortless and chill, and they did not dare to sing or talk too
loud,  for the echoes were uncanny, and the silence  seemed to dislike being
broken-except by  the noise of water and the wail of wind and  the  crack of
stone.
     "The summer is getting on down below," thought Bilbo, "and haymaking is
going on and picnics. They  will be  harvesting and blackberrying, before we
even  begin to go  down the  other side at this rate." And  the  others were
thinking  equally  gloomy thoughts, although  when they had said good-bye to
Elrond in  the high hope  of a midsummer morning, they'  had spoken gaily of
the passage of the mountains,  and of  riding swift across the lands beyond.
They  had  thought of  coming to the secret  door in  the  Lonely  Mountain,
perhaps  that very  next  first moon  of  Autumn--"  and perhaps it will  be
Durin's  Day" they  had  said.  Only Gandalf had shaken  his head  and  said
nothing. Dwarves had not passed that  way for many  years,  but Gandalf had,
and he knew how evil and danger had grown and thriven in the Wild, since the
dragons had driven men from the lands, and  the goblins had spread in secret
after the battle of the Mines of Moria. Even the  good plans of wise wizards
like Gandalf and  of good friends like Elrond  go astray  sometimes when you
are off on dangerous adventures over the Edge of the Wild; and Gandalf was a
wise enough wizard to know it.
     He knew that something unexpected  might happen, and he hardly dared to
hope  that they would pass without fearful  adventure over those great  tall
mountains with lonely peaks and valleys where no king ruled. They  did  not.
All  was well,  until  one  day they  met  a  thunderstorm  -  more  than  a
thunderstorm,  a  thunder-battle.   You  know  how  terrific  a  really  big
thunderstorm can be down  in  the  land and in a river-valley; especially at
times when two great  thunderstorms meet and  clash. More terrible still are
thunder  and lightning in the mountains at night,  when  storms come up from
East and  West and make war. The lightning splinters on the peaks, and rocks
shiver, and great crashes  split  the air  and go rolling  and tumbling into
every cave and hollow; and the  darkness  is filled with  overwhelming noise
and sudden light.
     Bilbo had never seen or imagined  anything of the kind. They  were high
up  in a narrow place, with a dreadful fall into a dim valley at one side of
them. There  they were sheltering under a hanging rock for the night, and he
lay beneath a blanket and shook from head to toe. When he  peeped out in the
lightning-flashes,  he  saw that across the valley the stone-giants were out
and were hurling rocks at one another for a. game,  and  catching them,  and
tossing them down into the darkness where  they smashed among  the trees far
below, or splintered into little bits  with a bang.  Then came  a wind and a
rain, and the wind whipped the rain and  the hail about in every  direction,
so that an overhanging rock was no protection at all. Soon they were getting
drenched  and  their  ponies  were standing with their heads down  and their
tails  between their legs, and some of them were whinnying with fright. They
could hear the giants guffawing and shouting all over the mountainsides.
     "This  won't do at all!"  said Thorin. "If we don't get  blown  off  or
drowned, or  struck  by  lightning, we shall be picked up  by some giant and
kicked sky-high for a football."
     "Well, if you  know of  anywhere better, take us there!" said  Gandalf,
who was  feeling  very  grumpy, and  was far from  happy  about  the  giants
himself.
     The end of their argument was that they sent Fill and Kili to look  for
a better shelter.  They had  very sharp eyes, and being the  youngest of the
dwarves by  some  fifty  years  they  usually got  these  sort of jobs (when
everybody could see that it  was  absolutely no use sending Bilbo). There is
nothing like looking, if  you  want  to find something (or so Thorin said to
the young dwarves).  You certainly usually find something, if  you look, but
it  is not always quite the something  you were after. So  it proved on this
occasion.
     Soon Fili and Kili came  crawling back, holding on to  the rocks in the
wind. "We have found a dry cave," they said, "not far round the next corner;
and ponies and all could get inside."
     "Have you thoroughly explored it?" said the wizard, who knew that caves
up in the mountains were seldom unoccupied.
     "Yes, yes!" they said,  though everybody  knew they could not have been
long about it; they had come back  too quick. "It isn't all that big, and it
does not go far back."
     That, of course, is the dangerous part about caves: you  don't know how
far they go back, sometimes, or where a passage behind may  lead to, or what
is waiting for you inside. But now Fili and Kill's news seemed good  enough.
So  they  all  got up  and prepared  to move. The  wind  was howling and the
thunder still growling, and they had a business getting themselves and their
ponies along. Still it was not very far to go, and before long they  came to
a big rock standing out  into the  path. If you  stepped behind, you found a
low arch in the side of the mountain. There  was just room to get the ponies
through with a  squeeze, when they had been unpacked and unsaddled.  As they
passed under  the  arch, it was good to  hear the  wind and the rain outside
instead of all about them, and to feel safe from the giants and their rocks.
But the wizard  was taking no risks. He lit up his wand - as he did that day
in Bilbo's  dining-room that seemed so long ago, if you remember--,  and  by
its light they explored the cave from end to end.
     It seemed quite a fair size, but not too large and mysterious. It had a
dry  floor  and some comfortable nooks. At one  end  there was room for  the
ponies;  and  there  they stood (mighty  glad of  the change)  steaming, and
champing in their nosebags. Oin and Gloin wanted to light a fire at the door
to dry their clothes,  but Gandalf would not hear of it. So they spread  out
their wet things on the floor, and got dry  ones out of their bundles;  then
they  made their blankets comfortable,  got out  their pipes and  blew smoke
rings, which Gandalf turned into different colours and set dancing up by the
roof to amuse them. They talked and talked,  and forgot about the storm, and
discussed what each  would do with his share of the  treasure (when they got
it, which at the moment did not seem so impossible); and so they dropped off
to  sleep one by one. And  that was the last time that they used the ponies,
packages, baggages, tools and paraphernalia that they had brought with them.
     It turned  out a good  thing  that  night  that they had brought little
Bilbo with them, after all. For somehow, he could not go to sleep for a long
while;  and when he did sleep,  he had very nasty dreams. He dreamed  that a
crack in  the wall at the back of the cave got bigger and bigger, and opened
wider and  wider,  and  he  was  very afraid but  could not call out  or  do
anything  but lie and look. Then  he  dreamed that the floor of the cave was
giving way, and he was slipping-beginning to fall down, down, goodness knows
where to.
     At that he woke up with  a horrible start,  and found  that part of his
dream was true. A crack  had opened at the back of the cave, and was already
a wide  passage. He  was just in time  to see the last of the  ponies' tails
disappearing into it. Of course  he gave a very loud yell, as loud a yell as
a hobbit can give, which is surprising for their size.
     Out  jumped the goblins, big  goblins, great ugly-looking goblins, lots
of goblins, before  you  could  say rocks and blocks. There were six to each
dwarf, at least,  and two even  for  Bilbo;  and they  were  all grabbed and
carried  through the crack, before you could say tinder and  flint. But  not
Gandalf. Bilbo's yell had done that much good. It had wakened him up wide in
a splintered second, and when goblins came to grab him, there was a terrible
flash like  lightning  in the  cave, a smell like gunpowder,  and several of
them fell dead.
     The crack  closed with a  snap,  and Bilbo and the  dwarves were on the
wrong  side of it!  Where was  Gandalf? Of that neither they nor the goblins
had any idea, and the  goblins did not wait to find  out. It was deep, deep,
dark, such as only goblins that  have taken to living in  the heart  of  the
mountains can  see through. The passages there were crossed  and  tangled in
all directions, but the goblins  knew their  way,  as well as you  do to the
nearest post-office;  and the  way  went down  and  down, and  it  was  most
horribly stuffy. The goblins were very  rough, and pinched unmercifully, and
chuckled and  laughed in their  horrible stony  voices; and  Bilbo  was more
unhappy even  than when the troll had  picked him up by his  toes. He wished
again and again for his nice bright hobbit-hole. Not for the last time.
     Now there came a glimmer of a  red light before them. The goblins began
to  sing, or  croak, keeping  time  with the flap of their flat  feet on the
stone, and shaking their prisoners as well.

     Clap! Snap! the black crack!
     Grip, grab! Pinch, nab!
     And down down to Goblin-town
     You go, my lad!

     Clash, crash! Crush, smash!
     Hammer and tongs! Knocker and gongs!
     Pound, pound, far underground!
     Ho, ho! my lad!

     Swish, smack! Whip crack!
     Batter and beat! Yammer and bleat!
     Work, work! Nor dare to shirk,
     While Goblins quaff, and Goblins laugh,
     Round and round far underground
     Below, my lad!

     It sounded  truly  terrifying. The walls echoed to  the clap, snap! and
the crush, smash! and to  the ugly  laughter of their ho,  ho!  my lad!  The
general meaning of the song was only too plain; for now the goblins took out
whips and whipped them with a swish, smack!, and set them running as fast as
they could in front of  them;  and more than one of the dwarves were already
yammering and bleating like anything, when they stumbled into a big cavern.
     It was lit by  a great red fire in the middle, and by torches along the
walls, and it was full of goblins. They all laughed and  stamped and clapped
their hands, when  the  dwarves  (with poor little  Bilbo  at the  back  and
nearest to the whips) came  running in, while the goblin-drivers whooped and
cracked their  whips  behind. The  ponies  were  already there  huddled in a
corner; and there were all the baggages and  packages lying broken open, and
being  rummaged by goblins,  and smelt  by goblins, and fingered by goblins,
and quarreled over by goblins.
     I am afraid  that was the  last they ever saw of those excellent little
ponies, including a jolly sturdy little white fellow that Elrond had lent to
Gandalf,  since his  horse  was  not suitable for  the  mountain-paths.  For
goblins eat  horses and ponies  and  donkeys (and  other much  more dreadful
things), and they are  always hungry. Just now  however  the prisoners  were
thinking only of  themselves. The  goblins  chained their hands behind their
backs and linked them all together in a line and dragged them to the far end
of the cavern with little Bilbo tugging at the end of the row.
     There in the shadows on a large flat stone sat a tremendous goblin with
a huge head, and armed goblins were standing round him carrying the axes and
the  bent  swords  that  they  use.  Now  goblins  are  cruel,  wicked,  and
bad-hearted. They make no beautiful things,  but they make many clever ones.
They can tunnel and mine as well as  any but  the most skilled dwarves, when
they take  the trouble, though they are usually untidy  and  dirty. Hammers,
axes,  swords,  daggers,  pickaxes, tongs, and  also instruments of torture,
they make very well,  or get other people to make to their design, prisoners
and slaves that have  to work till they die for want of air and light. It is
not  unlikely  that they  invented  some of  the  machines that  have  since
troubled  the  world,  especially the  ingenious  devices for  killing large
numbers of  people at  once, for wheels and  engines and  explosions  always
delighted  them, and  also not working  with their own hands  more than they
could help; but in those days and those wild parts they had not advanced (as
it is called)  so  far. They  did not hate dwarves especially, no more  than
they  hated  everybody  and everything,  and  particularly the  orderly  and
prosperous; in some parts wicked dwarves had even made alliances with  them.
But they had a special grudge against Thorin's  people, because  of  the war
which you have heard mentioned, but which does not come into  this tale; and
anyway  goblins  don't care who they catch, as  long as it is done smart and
secret, and the prisoners are not able to defend themselves.
     "Who are these miserable persons?" said the Great Goblin.
     "Dwarves, and this!" said one  of the drivers, pulling at Bilbo's chain
so that he fell forward onto his knees.
     "We found them sheltering in our Front Porch."
     "What do you  mean by it?" said the Great Goblin turning to Thorin. "Up
to  no good,  I'll warrant!  Spying on the  private business of my people, I
guess! Thieves, I shouldn't be surprised to learn! Murderers  and friends of
Elves, not unlikely! Come! What have you got to say?"
     "Thorin the dwarf at your  service!" he replied-it was merely a  polite
nothing. "Of the things which you suspect and imagine we had no idea at all.
We  sheltered from  a storm in  what seemed  a  convenient  cave and unused;
nothing was further from our  thoughts than  inconveniencing goblins  in any
way whatever." That was true enough!
     "Urn!" said the Great Goblin. "So you say! Might  I ask  what you  were
doing up in the mountains at all, and where you  were coming from, and where
you were going to? In fact I should like to know all about  you. Not that it
willdo you much  good, Thorin Oakenshield, I  know  too much about your folk
already; but let's have the truth, or I will prepare something  particularly
uncomfortable for you!"
     "We were on a journey to visit  our relatives, our nephews  and nieces,
and first,  second,  and third cousins,  and the  other descendants  of  our
grandfathers,  who  live  on  the  East  side  of  these   truly  hospitable
mountains,"  said Thorin,  not quite  knowing what to  say all at once  in a
moment, when obviously the exact truth would not do at all.
     "He is  a  liar,  O  truly  tremendous one!"  said  one of the drivers.
"Several of our people were struck by lightning in the cave, when we invited
these creatures to come  below; and they  are as dead as stones. Also he has
not explained  this!" He held out the sword which Thorin had worn, the sword
which came from the Trolls' lair.
     The Great Goblin gave a truly awful howl of rage when he looked at  it,
and  all his  soldiers  gnashed  their  teeth, clashed  their  shields,  and
stamped. They knew the sword at once. It  had killed hundreds of  goblins in
its time, when the  fair elves of Gondolin hunted them in  the hills or  did
battle before  their walls. They had called it  Orcrist, Goblin-cleaver, but
the  goblins called it simply Biter. They hated  it and hated worse any  one
that carried it.
     "Murderers'  and elf-friends!" the Great Goblin  shouted. "Slash  them!
Beat  them!  Bite them!  Gnash  them! Take  them away to dark holes full  of
snakes, and never  let them see the light again!" He was in such a rage that
he jumped off his seat and himself rushed at Thorin with his mouth open.
     Just at  that moment all  the lights in  the cavern  went out, and  the
great fire went off poof! into  a tower  of blue  glowing smoke, right up to
the roof, that scattered piercing white sparks all among the goblins.
     The  yells  and  yammering,  croaking, jibbering and jabbering;  howls,
growls  and  curses;  shrieking  and  skriking,  that  followed were  beyond
description. Several hundred wild cats and wolves being roasted slowly alive
together  would not have compared with it. The sparks were burning holes  in
the  goblins,  and the smoke  that now  fell from the roof  made the air too
thick  for even their eyes to  see through. Soon they were  falling over one
another and rolling in heaps  on the floor, biting and kicking and  fighting
as if they had all gone mad.
     Suddenly  a  sword  flashed  in its  own  light. Bilbo saw  it go right
through the Great Goblin as he stood  dumbfounded in the middle of his rage.
He fell dead,  and the goblin soldiers fled before  the sword shrieking into
the darkness.
     The  sword went  back into its sheath. "Follow me quick!" said a  voice
fierce and  quiet; and before Bilbo  understood  what had  happened  he  was
trotting along again, as fast as he could trot, at the end of the line, down
more dark passages with the yells of the  goblin-hall growing fainter behind
him. A pale light was leading them on.
     "Quicker, quicker!" said the voice. "The torches will soon be relit."
     "Half a minute!" said Dori, who was at the  back next to Bilbo,  and  a
decent fellow. He made the hobbit scramble on his shoulders as best he could
with his tied hands, and then off they all went at a run, with a clink-clink
of chains, and many a stumble,  since they had no hands to steady themselves
with. Not for a long while did they  stop, and by  that time they must  have
been right down in the very mountain's heart.
     Then Gandalf lit up his wand.  Of course it was Gandalf;  but just then
they were too busy to ask how he got there. He took out his sword again, and
again it flashed in the dark  by itself. It burned with a rage that made  it
gleam if goblins were about; now it was bright as blue flame for delight  in
the  killing  of the great lord of the cave. It made no trouble  whatever of
cutting through the goblin-chains and  setting  all  the  prisoners free  as
quickly as  possible. This sword's name was Glamdring the Foe-hammer, if you
remember. The  goblins just called it Beater, and hated  it worse than Biter
if possible. Orcrist, too, had been saved; for Gandalf had brought it  along
as well, snatching it from  one of the  terrified guards. Gandalf thought of
most things; and though he could not do everything, he could do a great deal
for friends in a tight comer.
     "Are  we all here?" said he, handing his  sword back to  Thorin with  a
bow. "Let  me see:  one-that's  Thorin;  two, three, four, five, six, seven,
eight, nine,  ten, eleven; where are  Fili  and Kili? Here they are, twelve,
thirteen-and  here's Mr. Baggins: fourteen! Well,  well! it might be  worse,
and then again it might be a good deal  better. No ponies,  and no food, and
no knowing quite where we  are, and hordes  of angry goblins just behind! On
we go!"
     On they went. Gandalf was quite right: they began to hear goblin noises
and horrible cries far behind in  the passages they had  come  through. That
sent them on faster than  ever, and as poor Bilbo could not possibly go half
as fast-for dwarves can roll  along at  a  tremendous pace,  I can tell you,
when they have to-they took it in turn to carry him on their backs.
     Still goblins go faster  than dwarves, and  these  goblins knew the way
better  (they had made the paths themselves), and were madly angry;  so that
do what they could  the dwarves heard the cries and howls getting closer and
closer.  Soon  they could hear even the flap  of  the goblin feet, many many
feet which seemed only just round the last corner.  The blink of red torches
could  be  seen behind them in the tunnel they were following; and they were
getting deadly tired.
     "Why,  O why did  I ever leave my  hobbit-hole!"  said poor Mr. Baggins
bumping up and down on Bombur's back.
     "Why, O  why did I ever bring  a  wretched little hobbit on  a treasure
hunt!" said  poor Bombur,  who was fat, and staggered  along  with the sweat
dripping down his nose in his heat and terror.
     At this  point Gandalf fell behind, and Thorin with  him. They turned a
sharp corner. "About turn!" he shouted. "Draw your sword, Thorin!"
     There was  nothing else to be done; and the  goblins  did not like  it.
They came  scurrying round the corner  in full cry, and found Goblin-cleaver
and Foe-hammer shining cold  and  bright right in their astonished eyes. The
ones  in front  dropped  their torches  and gave  one yell before  they were
killed. The ones  behind yelled  still  more,  and leaped back knocking over
those  that were running  after them. "Biter and Beater!" they shrieked; and
soon they were all in confusion, and most of them were hustling back the way
they had come.
     It was quite a long while before any of them dared to  turn that comer.
By that  time  the dwarves had gone  on again, a long, long, way on into the
dark tunnels of  the goblins' realm. When the goblins discovered that,  they
put out their  torches and  they slipped on soft shoes, and  they  chose out
their  very  quickest runners  with the  sharpest ears  and eyes. These  ran
forward, as  swift  as  weasels in the dark, and with hardly any  more noise
than bats.
     That is why neither Bilbo, nor the dwarves, nor even Gandalf heard them
coming.  Nor did they see them. But  they  were seen by the goblins that ran
silently up behind, for Gandalf was  letting his wand give out a faint light
to help the dwarves as they went along.
     Quite suddenly Dori, now at the back again  carrying Bilbo, was grabbed
from behind in the  dark. He shouted and fell; and the hobbit rolled off his
shoulders into the blackness,  bumped his head  on hard rock, and remembered
nothing more.

Chapter 5. Riddles in the Dark

     When  Bilbo opened his eyes, he wondered if he had;  for it was just as
dark  as  with them shut. No  one  was  anywhere  near him. Just imagine his
fright! He could hear nothing, see nothing, and he could feel nothing except
the stone of the floor.
     Very slowly he  got up and  groped about on all fours, till  he touched
the wall  of the tunnel; but  neither up nor down it could he find anything:
nothing at all, no  sign  of  goblins,  no sign  of  dwarves. His  head  was
swimming, and  he was  far from certain even of the direction they  had been
going  in when he had  his fall. He guessed as well as he could, and crawled
along for a good way, till suddenly his hand met  what felt like a tiny ring
of cold metal lying on  the  floor  of the tunnel. It was a turning point in
his career, but he did not know it.  He  put the ring in  his pocket  almost
without thinking;  certainly it did not seem  of  any particular use  at the
moment. He did not go much further, but sat down on the  cold floor and gave
himself up  to  complete miserableness,  for  a  long while.  He  thought of
himself frying bacon and eggs in his own kitchen at home - for he could feel
inside that it was high time for some meal  or other; but that only made him
miserabler.
     He could not think what to do; nor could he think what had happened; or
why he had been left behind; or why, if he had been left behind, the goblins
had not caught  him; or even why his head was so sore. The truth was  he had
been lying quiet, out of sight and  out of mind, in a very dark corner for a
long while.
     After some time  he felt for his pipe. It  was not broken, and that was
something. Then he felt for his pouch, and there was some tobacco in it, and
that was something more. Then he  felt for matches and he could not find any
at all, and that shattered his hopes completely. Just as well for him, as he
agreed when he came to  his  senses.  Goodness  knows  what the striking  of
matches and the smell of tobacco would have brought on him out of dark holes
in  that horrible place. Still at  the moment he felt  very crushed.  But in
slapping all his pockets and feeling  all round himself for matches his hand
came on the hilt  of  his little sword - the little dagger  that he got from
the trolls, and that he had quite forgotten; nor do the goblins seem to have
noticed it, as he wore it inside his breeches.
     Now he drew it out. It shone pale and dim before his eyes. "So it is an
elvish blade, too," he thought; "and goblins are not very near,  and yet not
far enough."
     But somehow  he was  comforted. It was rather  splendid to be wearing a
blade made in Gondolin for the goblin-wars of  which so many songs had sung;
and also he had noticed that such weapons made a great impression on goblins
that came upon them suddenly.
     "Go back?" he thought.  "No  good  at all! Go sideways?  Impossible! Go
forward? Only thing to do! On we go!"  So up  he got, and trotted along with
his little sword held in front of him and one hand feeling the wall, and his
heart all of a patter and a pitter.

     Now certainly  Bilbo was in what is called a tight place.  But you must
remember it was not quite so tight  for him as it would have  been for me or
for you. Hobbits are not quite  like ordinary people; and after all if their
holes are nice  cheery places and  properly aired, quite different  from the
tunnels of the goblins, still they are  more used to tunnelling than we are,
and  they do not  easily lose their  sense of direction underground-not when
their  heads  have recovered from  being  bumped.  Also they can  move  very
quietly, and  hide easily,  and recover wonderfully  from falls and bruises,
and they have a fund of wisdom  and wise sayings  that men have mostly never
heard or have forgotten long ago.
     I should  not have liked to have  been  in  Mr. Baggins' place, all the
same. The  tunnel  seemed to have no end. All he  knew was that it was still
going down  pretty steadily and keeping in the same direction  in spite of a
twist and  a turn or two. There were passages  leading off to the side every
now and then, as he knew by the glimmer of his sword, or could feel with his
hand on the  wall. Of these he took no notice, except to hurry past for fear
of goblins  or  half-imagined dark things  coming out  of them. On and on he
went, and down and down; and still  he heard no sound of anything except the
occasional whirr of a bat by  his ears, which startled him at first, till it
became too frequent to bother about. I do not know  how long he kept on like
this, hating to go on, not daring to stop, on, on, until he was tireder than
tired.  It  seemed  like all  the way to  tomorrow  and over  it to the days
beyond.
     Suddenly without any warning  he trotted splash into water! Ugh! it was
icy cold. That pulled him up sharp and short. He did not know whether it was
just a pool  in the path, or the edge of an underground stream  that crossed
the passage,  or the  brink of a deep dark subterranean  lake. The sword was
hardly shining at all. He stopped, and he could hear, when he listened hard,
drops drip-drip-dripping from an unseen roof into the water below; but there
seemed no other sort of sound.
     "So it is a pool or  a lake, and not an underground river," he thought.
Still he did not dare to  wade out into the darkness. He could not swim; and
he  thought,  too,  of  nasty  slimy things,  with big  bulging  blind eyes,
wriggling  in the water.  There  are strange things living  in the pools and
lakes in the hearts of mountains: fish whose  fathers swam in, goodness only
knows how many years ago,  and never swam out  again, while their eyes  grew
bigger and bigger and bigger from trying to see in the blackness; also there
are  other things more slimy than fish. Even  in  the tunnels and  caves the
goblins have made  for themselves there are other things living unbeknown to
them that have sneaked in from  outside to lie up in the dark. Some of these
caves, too, go back in their beginnings to ages before the goblins, who only
widened them and joined them up  with passages, and the  original owners are
still there in odd comers, slinking and nosing about.
     Deep  down here  by the  dark water lived  old Gollum,  a  small  slimy
creature. I don't know where  he came from, nor who  or what  he was. He was
Gollum -- as dark as darkness,  except for two  big round  pale eyes in  his
thin face. He  had a little boat, and  he rowed about  quite  quietly on the
lake;  for lake it was,  wide and deep and deadly cold.  He paddled it  with
large feet dangling over the side,  but never a ripple did  he make. Not he.
He was  looking out  of  his pale lamp-like  eyes  for blind fish, which  he
grabbed  with his  long fingers as quick  as thinking.  He  liked  meat too.
Goblin he thought  good, when  he could get it; but he took care they  never
found him out. He just throttled them from behind,  if they  ever came  down
alone anywhere near the edge of the water, while he was prowling about. They
very  seldom did, for they  had  a feeling  that  something  unpleasant  was
lurking down there, down at the very roots of the mountain. They had come on
the lake, when they were tunnelling down long ago, and they found they could
go no further; so there their road ended in that direction, and there was no
reason to go that way-unless the Great Goblin sent them. Sometimes he took a
fancy for  fish from the lake, and  sometimes neither goblin  nor fish  came
back.
     Actually Gollum lived  on a  slimy island of rock in the middle of  the
lake. He was watching Bilbo now from the  distance  with his pale  eyes like
telescopes. Bilbo could not see him, but he was wondering a lot about Bilbo,
for he could see that he was no goblin at all.
     Gollum got into his boat and shot off from  the island, while Bilbo was
sitting on the brink altogether flummoxed and at  the end of his way and his
wits. Suddenly up came Gollum and whispered and hissed:
     "Bless us  and splash us, my precioussss! I guess  it's a choice feast;
at least  a tasty morsel it'd make us, gollum!" And  when he said gollum  he
made a horrible swallowing noise in his throat. That is how he got his name,
though he always called himself 'my precious.'
     The hobbit jumped nearly out of  his skin  when  the hiss  came  in his
ears, and he suddenly saw the pale eyes sticking out at him.
     "Who are you?" he said, thrusting his dagger in front of him.
     "What iss  he, my  preciouss?"  whispered Gollum  (who always spoke  to
himself through never  having anyone else to speak to). This is  what he had
come to  find out, for he  was  not really very hungry  at the  moment, only
curious; otherwise he would have grabbed first and whispered afterwards.
     "I am Mr.  Bilbo Baggins.  I  have lost the dwarves and I have lost the
wizard, and I don't know where I am;  and "I  don't  want to know, if only I
can get ,away."
     "What's  he  got  in his handses?" said Gollum, looking  at  the sword,
which he did not quite like.
     "A sword, a blade which came out of Gondolin!"
     "Sssss," said Gollum,  and became quite polite. "Praps ye sits here and
chats  with it a bitsy, my preciousss. It  like riddles, praps it does, does
it?"  He was anxious  to  appear  friendly, at any  rate for the moment, and
until he found out more about the sword and the hobbit, whether he was quite
alone really, whether he was  good to eat,  and  whether  Gollum was  really
hungry.  Riddles were  all  he could think of.  Asking them,  and  sometimes
guessing them, had been the only game  he had  ever played with  other funny
creatures  sitting in their  holes in the long, long ago, before he lost all
his friends and was driven away, alone, and crept down,  down, into the dark
under the mountains.
     "Very well," said Bilbo, who was anxious to  agree, until he found  out
more about the creature, whether he was quite alone, whether  he was  fierce
or hungry, and whether he was a friend of the goblins.
     "You ask  first," he  said, because  he had not had  time to think of a
riddle.
     So Gollum hissed:

     What has roots as nobody sees,
     Is taller than trees,
     Up, up it goes,
     And yet never grows?

     "Easy!" said Bilbo. "Mountain, I suppose."
     "Does it guess easy? It must  have a competition with us, my preciouss!
If precious asks, and it doesn't answer, we  eats it, my preciousss.  If  it
asks us,  and we doesn't answer, then we does what it wants, eh? We shows it
the way out, yes!"
     "All right!"  said Bilbo, not daring  to disagree, and nearly  bursting
his brain to think of riddles that could save him from being eaten.

     Thirty white horses on a red hill,
     First they champ,
     Then they stamp,
     Then they stand still.

     That was all he could think  of to ask-the idea of eating was rather on
his mind. It was rather an old one, too,  and Gollum knew the answer as well
as you do.
     "Chestnuts, chestnuts," he hissed. "Teeth! teeth! my preciousss; but we
has only six!" Then he asked his second:

     Voiceless it cries,
     Wingless flutters,
     Toothless bites,
     Mouthless mutters.

     "Half  a  moment!" cried  Bilbo,  who was  still thinking uncomfortably
about  eating.  Fortunately he  had  once heard something rather  like  this
before, and getting his wits back  he thought of the  answer. "Wind, wind of
course," he said, and he was  so  pleased that he made up  one  on the spot.
"This'll puzzle the nasty little underground creature," he thought:

     An eye in a blue face
     Saw an eye in a green face.
     "That eye is like to this eye"
     Said the first eye,
     "But in low place,
     Not in high place."

     "Ss, ss, ss," said Gollum. He had  been underground  a long long  time,
and  was forgetting this sort of thing. But  just as Bilbo was  beginning to
hope that the wretch would not be able to answer, Gollum brought up memories
of  ages and ages and ages before, when he lived with his  grandmother in  a
hole in  a bank by  a river,  "Sss, sss, my preciouss," he said. "Sun on the
daisies it means, it does."
     But these ordinary aboveground everyday sort of riddles were tiring for
him. Also they reminded him of days when he had been less  lonely and sneaky
and nasty,  and  that  put  him  out  of temper. What is more they  made him
hungry; so  this  time  he tried  something a  bit more  difficult and  more
unpleasant:

     It cannot be seen, cannot be felt,
     Cannot be heard, cannot be smelt.
     It lies behind stars and under hills,
     And empty holes it fills.
     It comes first and follows after,
     Ends life, kills laughter.

     Unfortunately for Gollum Bilbo had heard that sort of thing before; and
the answer was all round him anyway. "Dark!" he said without even scratching
his head or putting on his thinking cap.

     A box without hinges, key, or lid,
     Yet golden treasure inside is hid,

     he asked to gain time, until he could think of a really hard one.  This
he thought a dreadfully easy chestnut, though  he had not  asked  it in  the
usual words. But it proved a nasty poser for Gollum. He  hissed to  himself,
and still he did not answer; he whispered and spluttered.
     After  some while Bilbo became impatient. "Well, what is it?" he  said.
"The answer's not a kettle boiling over, as you seem to think from the noise
you are making."
     "Give us a chance; let it give us a chance, my preciouss-ss-ss."
     "Well," said Bilbo, after giving  him  a long chance, "what about  your
guess?"
     But  suddenly Gollum  remembered  thieving  from  nests  long ago,  and
sitting  under  the  river  bank  teaching  his  grandmother,  teaching  his
grandmother to suck-"Eggses!" he hissed. "Eggses it is!" Then he asked:

     A live without breath,
     As cold as death;
     Never thirsty, ever drinking,
     All in mail never clinking.

     He also in  his turn thought this was a dreadfully easy one, because he
was always thinking of the answer. But he could not remember anything better
at the  moment, he was so flustered by the egg-question. All the same it was
a poser for poor Bilbo, who never had anything  to do with the  water if  he
could help it. I imagine you know the answer, of course,  or can guess it as
easy as winking,  since you are sitting comfortably at home and have not the
danger of  being eaten to  disturb your thinking. Bilbo sat  and cleared his
throat once or twice, but no answer came.
     After  a while Gollum  began to hiss  with  pleasure to himself: "Is it
nice, my preciousss? Is it juicy? Is it  scrumptiously crunchable?" He began
to peer at Bilbo out of the darkness.
     "Half a moment," said  the hobbit shivering.  "I gave  you  a good long
chance just now."
     "It must make haste, haste!" said Gollum, beginning to climb out of his
boat on to the shore to get at Bilbo. But when he put his long webby foot in
the water, a fish jumped out in a fright and fell on Bilbo's toes.
     "Ugh!"  he said,  "it is cold and clammy!"-and  so  he  guessed. "Fish!
Fish!" he cried. "It is fish!"
     Gollum was dreadfully disappointed;  but Bilbo  asked another riddle as
quick  as  ever be could, so that Gollum had to  get back into his  boat and
think.

     No-legs lay on one-leg, two-legs sat near on three-legs,  four-legs got
some.

     It was not really  the  right time for this  riddle, but Bilbo was in a
hurry. Gollum might have had some trouble guessing it, if he had asked it at
another  time. As  it  was,  talking of  fish,  "no-legs" was  not  so  very
difficult, and after that the rest was easy. "Fish on a little table, man at
table sitting  on  a stool, the cat  has the  bones"-that of course  is  the
answer,  and Gollum soon gave it. Then he thought the  time had come  to ask
something hard and horrible. This is what he said:

     This thing all things devours:
     Birds, beasts, trees, flowers;
     Gnaws iron, bites steel;
     Grinds hard stones to meal;
     Slays king, ruins town,
     And beats high mountain down.

     Poor Bilbo sat in the dark thinking of  all the horrible names  of  all
the giants and ogres he had ever heard told of in tales, but not one of them
had  done all these  things.  He  had a  feeling that the  answer was  quite
different  and that he ought to know it, but he  could  not think of  it. He
began to get  frightened,  and that is bad for thinking. Gollum began to get
out of his boat.  He flapped into the water and paddled  to  the bank; Bilbo
could see  his eyes  coming towards him. His tongue seemed to stick  in  his
mouth;  he wanted to  shout out: "Give me more time! Give me time!" But  all
that came out with a sudden squeal was:
     "Time! Time!"
     Bilbo was saved by pure luck. For that of course was the answer.
     Gollum was  disappointed once  more; and now he was getting  angry, and
also tired of the game. It had made him very hungry indeed. This time he did
not  go back to the  boat. He sat down  in the dark by  Bilbo. That made the
hobbit most dreadfully uncomfortable and scattered his wits.
     "It's got to ask uss a quesstion, my preciouss, yes, yess, yesss. Jusst
one more quesstion to guess, yes, yess," said Gollum.
     But Bilbo  simply could  not think of any  question with that nasty wet
cold  thing sitting next to him,  and pawing and  poking  him. He  scratched
himself, he pinched himself; still he could not think of anything.
     "Ask us! ask us!" said Gollum.
     Bilbo pinched himself and slapped himself;  he gripped  on  his  little
sword; he even felt in his  pocket with his other hand.  There he found  the
ring he had picked up in the passage and forgotten about.
     "What  have  I  got in  my  pocket?" he said  aloud. He was talking  to
himself, but Gollum thought it was a riddle, and he was frightfully upset.
     "Not fair! not fair!" he hissed. "It isn't fair, my precious, is it, to
ask us what it's got in its nassty little pocketses?"
     Bilbo seeing  what had happened  and having nothing better to ask stuck
to his question. "What have I got in my pocket?" he said louder.
     "S-s-s-s-s,"  hissed  Gollum.  "It  must give  us three  guesseses,  my
preciouss, three guesseses."
     "Very well! Guess away!" said Bilbo.
     "Handses!" said Gollum.
     "Wrong," said Bilbo, who had luckily just taken his hand
     out again. "Guess again!"
     "S-s-s-s-s," said  Gollum more upset than ever. He  thought of all  the
things he kept in his own pockets: fishbones, goblins' teeth,  wet shells, a
bit of  bat-wing, a sharp stone  to sharpen  his fangs  on,  and other nasty
things. He tried to think what other people kept in their pockets.
     "Knife!" he said at last.
     "Wrong!" said Bilbo, who had lost his some time ago. "Last guess!"
     Now Gollum was in a much worse state than when Bilbo  had asked him the
egg-question.  He  hissed  and  spluttered and rocked  himself backwards and
forwards,  and slapped his feet on the floor, and wriggled and squirmed; but
still he did not dare to waste his last guess.
     "Come  on!" said  Bilbo.  "I am  waiting!"  He tried to sound  bold and
cheerful, but he did not feel  at all sure  how the  game  was going to end,
whether Gollum guessed right or not.
     "Time's up!" he said.
     "String, or nothing!" shrieked Gollum, which was not quite fair-working
in two guesses at once.
     "Both wrong," cried Bilbo very much relieved; and he jumped  at once to
his feet, put his back to the nearest wall, and held out his  little  sword.
He  knew,  of  course, that  the  riddle-game  was  sacred  and  of  immense
antiquity, and even wicked  creatures were afraid to cheat when they  played
at it. But he felt he could not  trust this slimy thing to keep  any promise
at a pinch. Any excuse  would do for him to  slide out of it.  And after all
that last  question had not been a genuine  riddle according to  the ancient
laws.
     But  at any  rate Gollum did not at once attack  him. He could see  the
sword in Bilbo's hand. He sat still, shivering and whispering. At last Bilbo
could wait no longer.
     "Well?" he said. "What about your promise? I want to go. You must  show
me the way."
     "Did  we say  so, precious? Show the nassty little Baggins the way out,
yes, yes. But  what has  it got in its pocketses, eh? Not  string, precious,
but not nothing. Oh no! gollum!"
     "Never you mind," said Bilbo. "A promise is a promise."
     "Cross it  is, impatient, precious," hissed Gollum. "But it  must wait,
yes it  must. We can't go up the  tunnels so hasty. We must  go and get some
things first, yes, things to help us."
     "Well, hurry up!" said  Bilbo, relieved to think of Gollum  going away.
He thought he was just making an excuse and did  not mean to come back. What
was Gollum talking about? What useful  thing could he  keep out on the  dark
lake? But he was  wrong. Gollum did mean to come back. He was angry now  and
hungry. And he was a miserable wicked creature, and already he had a plan.
     Not far away was his island, of which Bilbo knew nothing, and there  in
his  hiding-place he  kept a few wretched  oddments, and one very  beautiful
thing,  very beautiful, very wonderful. He  had a ring,  a  golden  ring,  a
precious ring.
     "My birthday-present!" he whispered to himself, as he had often done in
the endless dark days. "That's what we wants now, yes; we wants it!"
     He wanted it because it was a  ring of  power,  and if you slipped that
ring on your finger, you were invisible; only in the full sunlight could you
be seen, and then only by your shadow, and that would be shaky and faint.
     "My birthday-present! It came to me on my birthday, my precious," So he
had always said to himself. But who knows  how Gollum  came by that present,
ages ago in the old  days when such  rings were still at large in the world?
Perhaps even the Master who ruled  them could not have said. Gollum  used to
wear it at first, till it tired him; and then he kept it in a pouch next his
skin, till it galled him; and now usually he hid it in a hole in the rock on
his island, and was always going  back to look at it. And still sometimes he
put  it on, when he could not bear to be  parted from it any longer, or when
he was very, very, hungry, and tired of fish. Then he would creep along dark
passages  looking for stray goblins. He might even venture into places where
the  torches were  lit  and made  his eyes blink and smart; for  he would be
safe. Oh yes,  quite safe.  No one would see him, no  one would  notice him,
till he  had  his  fingers on their throat. Only a few hours ago he had worn
it, and caught a small  goblin-imp. How  it squeaked! He still had a bone or
two left to gnaw, but he wanted something softer.
     "Quite safe, yes," he whispered to himself.  "It won't see us, will it,
my precious?  No. It  won't  see  us,  and its nassty  little  sword will be
useless, yes quite."
     That is what was in his wicked little mind, as he slipped suddenly from
Bilbo's  side, and flapped back to  his boat, and went  off  into  the dark.
Bilbo thought  he had heard the last of him. Still he waited a while; for he
had no idea how to find his way out alone.
     Suddenly he heard a screech. It sent a shiver down his back. Gollum was
cursing and wailing away in the gloom, not very far off by  the sound of it.
He was on  his island, scrabbling here  and there,  searching and seeking in
vain.
     "Where  is  it? Where iss it?" Bilbo heard him crying. "Losst it is, my
precious, lost, lost! Curse us and crush us, my precious is lost!"
     "What's the matter?" Bilbo called. "What have you lost?"
     "It mustn't ask us,"  shrieked  Gollum. "Not its business, no,  gollum!
It's losst, gollum, gollum, gollum."
     "Well, so am I," cried Bilbo,  "and I want to get unlost. And I won the
game, and you promised. So come along! Come and let me out, and then  go  on
with your looking!"
     Utterly miserable as Gollum sounded, Bilbo could not find  much pity in
his heart, and he had a feeling that  anything Gollum  wanted  so much could
hardly be something good.
     "Come along!" he shouted.
     "No, not yet, precious!" Gollum answered. "We must search for it,  it's
lost, gollum."
     "But you never guessed my last question, and you promised," said Bilbo.
     "Never  guessed!" said Gollum. Then  suddenly out  of  the gloom came a
sharp hiss. "What has it got in  its pocketses?  Tell us that. It  must tell
first."
     As far as Bilbo knew, there was no particular reason why  he should not
tell. Gollum's mind had jumped to a guess quicker than  his;  naturally, for
Gollum had brooded  for ages on this one thing, and  he was always afraid of
its being  stolen. But Bilbo was annoyed at the delay. After all, he had won
the game, pretty fairly, at a horrible risk. "Answers were to be guessed not
given," he said.
     "But it wasn't a fair  question," said Gollum. "Not a riddle, precious,
no."
     "Oh well, if it's a matter of ordinary questions," Bilbo replied, "then
I asked one first. What have you lost? Tell me that!"
     "What has it  got in its pocketses?" The sound  came hissing louder and
sharper, and as he looked  towards it, to  his alarm Bilbo now saw two small
points  of light peering at  him.  As suspicion grew in Gollum's  mind,  the
light of his eyes burned with a pale flame.
     "What have you lost?"  Bilbo persisted. But now the  light in  Gollum's
eyes had  become a  green fire, and it was coming swiftly nearer. Gollum was
in his boat again, paddling wildly back to  the dark  shore; and such a rage
of loss and suspicion was in his heart that no sword had any more terror for
him.
     Bilbo could not guess  what had maddened the wretched  creature, but he
saw  that  all was up, and that Gollum meant to murder him at any rate. Just
in time he turned and ran blindly back up the dark passage down which he had
come, keeping close to the wall and feeling it with his left hand.
     "What has it got in its pocketses?" he  heard the hiss loud behind him,
and the splash as Gollum leapt from his boat.
     "What have I, I wonder?" he said to  himself, as he panted and stumbled
along. He put his  left  hand in  his pocket. The ring felt very  cold as it
quietly slipped on to his groping forefinger.
     The hiss was close behind him. He turned now and saw Gollum's eyes like
small green lamps coming up the slope. Terrified he tried to run faster, but
suddenly he struck his toes on a  snag in the floor, and fell  flat with his
little sword under him.
     In  a moment Gollum was  on  him. But  before Bilbo could  do anything,
recover his breath, pick  himself up, or wave  his sword, Gollum  passed by,
taking no notice of him, cursing and whispering as he ran.
     What  could it mean?  Gollum could see in the dark. Bilbo could see the
light of his  eyes palely shining even from behind. Painfully he got up, and
sheathed  his  sword,  which  was  now  glowing  faintly  again,  then  very
cautiously  he  followed.  There seemed nothing  else to do. It was  no good
crawling  back down  to Gollum's water. Perhaps if he  followed  him, Gollum
might lead him to some way of escape without meaning to.
     "Curse it! curse it! curse it!" hissed Gollum. "Curse the Baggins! It's
gone!  What has it got in its pocketses? Oh we guess, we guess, my precious.
He's found it, yes he must have. My birthday-present."
     Bilbo pricked up  his ears. He was at last beginning to guess  himself.
H^  hurried a little, getting as  close as he  dared behind Gollum, who  was
still going  quickly, not looking back, but turning his  head  from side  to
side, as Bilbo could see from the faint glimmer on the walls.
     "My birthday-present! Curse  it! How did  we lose it, my precious? Yes,
that's  it. When we came this way last,  when  we twisted  that nassty young
squeaker. That's it. Curse it!  It slipped from us, after all these ages and
ages! It's gone, gollum."
     Suddenly  Gollum sat down  and began  to weep, a whistling and gurgling
sound horrible to listen to. Bilbo halted and flattened himself against  the
tunnel-wall. After a  while Gollum  stopped  weeping and began  to  talk. He
seemed to be having an argument with himself.
     "It's  no good going  back there to search, no. We doesn't remember all
the places we've  visited. And it's no use. The  Baggins  has got  it in its
pocketses; the nassty noser has found it, we says."
     "We guesses, precious, only guesses. We  can't know till  we  find  the
nassty creature and  squeezes it. But it doesn't know what the  present  can
do, does it? It'll just keep it in its  pocketses. It  doesn't know,  and it
can't go far. It's lost itself, the nassty nosey thing. It doesn't know  the
way out It said so."
     "It said so, yes; but it's tricksy. It doesn't  say what  it  means. It
won't  say what  it's got in its pocketses. It knows. It knows  a way in, it
must  know  a way out, yes. It's  off to  the back-door.  To  the back-door,
that's it."
     "The  goblinses  will  catch  it  then.  It  can't  get  out that  way,
precious."
     "Ssss,  sss,  gollum! Goblinses! Yes,  but if it's got the present, our
precious  present,  then goblinses  will  get  it, gollum! They'll find  it,
they'll find out what it does. We shan't ever  be safe again, never, gollum!
One of  the goblinses will put it on, and then no one will see him. He'll be
there but not  seen. Not even our clever  eyeses will notice him; and  he'll
come creepsy and tricksy and catch us, gollum, gollum!"
     "Then let's stop talking, precious, and make haste. If the Baggins  has
gone that way, we must go quick and see. Go! Not far now. Make haste!"
     With a spring  Gollum got up and started shambling off at a great pace.
Bilbo hurried after him, still cautiously, though  his chief fear now was of
tripping on  another snag  and falling with a noise. His head was in a whirl
of hope and wonder. It seemed that the ring he had was a magic ring: it made
you invisible! He had heard of such things, of course, in old old tales; but
it  was hard to  believe that  he really had  found one,  by accident. Still
there it  was: Gollum with his bright eyes had passed him by, only a yard to
one side.
     On  they went,  Gollum flip-flapping ahead, hissing  and cursing; Bilbo
behind  going as  softly as a hobbit can. Soon they came to places where, as
Bilbo had noticed on the way down, side-passages opened, this  way and that.
Gollum began at once to count them.
     "One left,  yes. One right, yes. Two  right, yes, yes.  Two left,  yes,
yes." And so on and on.
     As the count grew he slowed down, and he began to get shaky  and weepy;
for he was leaving  the water further and further behind, and he was getting
afraid. Goblins might be about, and he had lost his ring. At last he stopped
by a low opening, on their left as they went up.
     "Seven  right, yes. Six left, yes!" he whispered. "This is  it. This is
the way to the back-door, yes. Here's the passage!"
     He peered  in, and shrank back. "But we durstn't go in, precious, no we
durstn't. Goblinses down there. Lots of goblinses. We smells them. Ssss!"
     "What shall  we do?  Curse  them and crush them!  We  must  wait  here,
precious, wait a bit and see."
     So they  came  to a dead  stop. Gollum had brought Bilbo to the way out
after all, but Bilbo could  not get in!  There was Gollum sitting  humped up
right in the opening, and his eyes gleamed cold in his head, as he swayed it
from side to side between his knees.
     Bilbo crept away from  the wall  more  quietly than a mouse; but Gollum
stiffened  at once, and  sniffed, and his eyes went  green. He hissed softly
but menacingly. He  could not see the hobbit, but  now  he was on the alert,
and  he had other senses that the darkness had sharpened: hearing and smell.
He  seemed  to be  crouched right down  with his flat  hands splayed on  the
floor, and his head thrust out, nose almost to the stone. Though he was only
a black shadow in the gleam of his own eyes, Bilbo could see or feel that he
was tense as a bowstring, gathered for a spring.
     Bilbo  almost  stopped  breathing,  and  went  stiff  himself.  He  was
desperate. He must get away, out of this horrible darkness, while he had any
strength left. He must fight. He must stab the foul thing, put its eyes out,
kill it. It meant to  kill him.  No, not a fair fight. He was invisible now.
Gollum had no sword.  Gollum had  not actually threatened  to  kill him,  or
tried to yet. And he was miserable,  alone, lost. A sudden  understanding, a
pity mixed  with horror, welled  up  in  Bilbo's heart: a glimpse of endless
unmarked  days  without light or hope  of betterment, hard stone, cold fish,
sneaking  and whispering.  All these thoughts passed in a flash of a second.
He trembled. And then quite suddenly in another flash, as if lifted by a new
strength and resolve, he leaped.
     No great leap for a man, but a leap in the dark. Straight over Gollum's
head he jumped, seven  feet  forward  and  three  in the air; indeed, had he
known  it, he only just missed cracking  his skull on  the low arch  of  the
passage.
     Gollum threw himself backwards,  and grabbed  as the hobbit  flew  over
him, but too late: his hands snapped on thin air, and Bilbo, falling fair on
his sturdy feet,  sped off down the new  tunnel. He did not turn to see what
Gollum was doing. There was  a hissing and  cursing almost at  his  heels at
first,  then it  stopped. All at  once  there  came  a bloodcurdling shriek,
filled with hatred and despair. Gollum was defeated. He dared go no further.
He had lost: lost his prey, and  lost, too, the only thing he had ever cared
for, his precious. The cry  brought Bilbo's heart to his mouth, but still he
held on. Now faint as an echo, but menacing, the voice came behind:
     "Thief,  thief, thief! Baggins! We hates it,  we hates it,  we hates it
for ever!"
     Then  there  was a silence. But that too  seemed menacing to Bilbo. "If
goblins  are so near  that  he smelt them," he thought,  "then  they'll have
heard his shrieking and cursing.  Careful now, or this way will lead  you to
worse things."
     The passage was low and roughly made. It was  not too difficult for the
hobbit, except when, in spite of all  care, he  stubbed his poor toes again,
several times, on nasty jagged stones in the  floor. "A bit low for goblins,
at least for the big ones,"  thought Bilbo, not  knowing that even  the  big
ones, the ores of the mountains, go along at a great speed stooping low with
their hands almost on the ground.
     Soon the passage that had been sloping  down began to go  up again, and
after a  while  it climbed steeply.  That slowed Bilbo down. But at last the
slope  stopped, the passage turned a  corner,  and dipped  down  again,  and
there, at the bottom of a short  incline,  he  saw, filtering round  another
corner-a glimpse of  light. Not red light, as of fire or lantern, but a pale
out-of-doors sort of light. Then Bilbo began to run.
     Scuttling as fast as his legs would carry him he turned the last corner
and came suddenly right into  an open space, where the light, after all that
time  in the  dark, seemed dazzlingly bright. Really it was  only  a leak of
sunshine  in  through a doorway, where a great door, a  stone door, was left
standing open.
     Bilbo blinked, and  then suddenly he saw  the goblins: goblins in  full
armour with drawn swords sitting just inside the door, and  watching it with
wide eyes, and watching  the  passage  that led  to  it. They  were aroused,
alert, ready for anything.
     They saw him sooner than he saw them. Yes, they saw him. Whether it was
.an accident, or a last trick  of the ring  before it took a  new master, it
was not on his finger. With yells of delight the goblins rushed upon him.
     A pang of fear and loss, like an echo of Gollum's misery,  smote Bilbo,
and forgetting even to draw his sword he struck his  hands into his pockets.
And- there  was  the ring  still, in  his left pocket, and it slipped on his
finger. The goblins stopped short. They could not see a sign of him. He  had
vanished. They yelled twice as loud as before, but not so delightedly.
     "Where is it?" they cried.
     "Go back up the passage!" some shouted.
     "This way!" some yelled. "That way!" others yelled.
     "Look out for the door," bellowed the captain.
     Whistles blew, armour clashed, swords rattled, goblins cursed and swore
and ran hither and thither, falling over one another and getting very angry.
There was a terrible outcry, to-do, and disturbance.
     Bilbo was  dreadfully frightened,  but  he had the sense to  understand
what had happened and to sneak behind  a big barrel which held drink for the
goblin-guards, and  so  get  out of the way  and  avoid  being bumped  into,
trampled to death, or caught by feel.
     "I must get to the door, I must get to the door!" he kept on saying  to
himself, but it was a long time  before he ventured to try. Then it was like
a horrible game of blind-man's buff.  The place  was full of goblins running
about, and the poor little hobbit dodged this way and that, was knocked over
by a goblin who could not make out  what he had bumped  into, scrambled away
on  all fours, slipped between the legs of the captain just in time, got up,
and ran for the door.
     It was  still ajar, but  a  goblin  had  pushed  it  nearly  to.  Bilbo
struggled but he  could not  move it. He tried to squeeze through the crack.
He squeezed and squeezed,  and  he  stuck! It was awful. His buttons had got
wedged  on the edge of the door and the door-post. He could see outside into
the  open  air:  there were  a  few  steps running down into a narrow valley
between tall mountains;  the  sun came  out from  behind  a cloud and  shone
bright on the outside of the door-but he could not get through.
     Suddenly one of the goblins  inside shouted: "There is  a shadow by the
door. Something is outside!"
     Bilbo's heart jumped into his mouth. He gave a terrific squirm. Buttons
burst off in all directions. He was through, with a torn coat and waistcoat,
leaping down the steps  like  a goat, while  bewildered  goblins were  still
picking up his nice brass buttons on the doorstep.
     Of course they  soon came  down after him,  hooting and hallooing,  and
hunting among the trees.  But they don't like the sun:  it makes their  legs
wobble and their  heads giddy.  They could  not find Bilbo with the ring on,
slipping in and out of the shadow of the trees, running quick and quiet, and
keeping out of the sun; so  soon  they went back  grumbling  and cursing  to
guard the door. Bilbo had escaped.

Chapter 6. Out of the Frying-Pan into the Fire

     Bilbo had escaped the goblins, but he did not know where he was. He had
lost hood, cloak, food, pony,  his buttons and his  friends. He wandered  on
and  on, till the  sun began to  sink westwards-behind  the mountains. Their
shadows fell across Bilbo's path, and he looked back. Then he looked forward
and could see before him only ridges and slopes falling towards lowlands and
plains glimpsed occasionally between the trees.
     "Good heavens!"  he  exclaimed. "I seem to  have got right to the other
side of the Misty Mountains, right to the edge of the Land Beyond! Where and
O where  can Gandalf and the dwarves  have  got to? I  only hope to goodness
they are not still back there in the power of the goblins!"
     He still wandered on, out of the little high valley, over its edge, and
down the slopes beyond;  but all the while a very uncomfortable thought  was
growing inside  him. He wondered whether he ought not, now  he had the magic
ring,  to  go back into the  horrible,  horrible,  tunnels and look  for his
friends. He had just  made up his mind  that it  was  his duty, that he must
turn back-and very miserable he felt about it-when he heard voices.
     He stopped  and listened. It did not sound  like  goblins;  so he crept
forward carefully. He was on a stony  path  winding  downwards with  a rocky
wall. on the left hand; on the other side the  ground sloped  away and there
were dells  below the level of the path overhung  with bushes and low trees.
In one of these dells under the bushes people were talking.
     He  crept still nearer, and suddenly  he saw  peering between  two  big
boulders  a head with a red hood on: it was  Balin doing  look-out. He could
have clapped and shouted for joy, but he did not. He had still got the  ring
on, for fear of meeting something unexpected and unpleasant, and he saw that
Balin was looking straight at him without noticing him.
     "I will give them all a  surprise," he thought, as he  crawled into the
bushes at the edge  of the dell. Gandalf was arguing with the  dwarves. They
were  discussing all that had happened to them in the tunnels, and wondering
and debating  what they were to do  now.  The  dwarves were  grumbling,  and
Gandalf was saying that they  could  not  possibly  go on with their journey
leaving Mr. Baggins in the  hands of the goblins, without trying to find out
if he was alive or dead, and without trying to rescue him.
     "After  all he  is my friend," said the  wizard,  "and not a bad little
chap. I feel responsible for him. I wish to goodness you had not lost him."
     The dwarves wanted  to know why he had ever been brought at all, why he
could not stick to his friends and come along with them,  and why the wizard
had not chosen someone with more sense. "He  has been  more trouble than use
so far," said one. "If  we have  got  to' go back now into  those abominable
tunnels to look for him, then drat him, I say."
     Gandalf answered angrily: "I brought him, and I don't bring things that
are  of  no use.  Either you help me to look for him, or I go  and leave you
here to get out of the mess as best you can  yourselves. If we can only find
him again, you will thank me before all is over. Whatever did you want to go
and drop him for, Dori?"
     "You  would have dropped  him," said Dori,  "if  a  goblin had suddenly
grabbed your  leg from behind in the  dark, tripped up your feet, and kicked
you in the back!"
     "Then why didn't you pick him up again?"
     "Good heavens! Can you  ask! Goblins  fighting and  biting in the dark,
everybody  falling over bodies  and hitting one another! You  nearly chopped
off  my  head  with  Glamdring,  and  Thorin  Was stabbing  here  there  and
everywhere with Orcrist. All of  a  sudden you  gave  one  of  your blinding
flashes, and we saw the goblins running back yelping. You shouted 'follow me
everybody!' and everybody ought to have followed. We thought  everybody had.
There  was no time to  count,  as you know quite  well,  till we had  dashed
through  the  gate-guards,  out of  the lower door, and  helter-skelter down
here. And here we are-without the burglar, confusticate him!"
     "And  here's the burglar!"  said Bilbo stepping down into the middle of
them, and slipping off the ring.
     Bless me, how they jumped! Then they shouted with surprise and delight.
Gandalf was as astonished as any of them, but probably more pleased than all
the others. He called to Balin and told him what  he thought  of a  look-out
man who let people walk  right into them like that without warning.  It is a
fact  that  Bilbo's reputation  went up a very great  deal  with the dwarves
after  this. If they had  still doubted  that  he was  really  a first-class
burglar, in spite of Gandalf's words, they doubted no longer. Balin was  the
most puzzled of all; but everyone said it was a very clever bit of work.
     Indeed  Bilbo  was so pleased with their  praise that he just  chuckled
inside and said nothing whatever about the ring; and when they asked him how
he did  it, he  said: "O,  just  crept along,  you  know-very carefully  and
quietly."
     "Well, it is the first time that even a mouse has crept along carefully
and  quietly under  my very nose and not been spotted,"  said Balin,  "and I
take off my hood to you." Which he did.
     "Balin at your service," said he.
     "Your servant, Mr. Baggins," said Bilbo.
     Then they wanted to know  all about his adventures after they  had lost
him,  and he sat down and told them everything-except  about the  finding of
the ring  ("not just now" he thought). They  were particularly interested in
the riddle-competition, and shuddered most appreciatively at his description
of Gollum.
     "And  then  I couldn't think of any  other  question  with him  sitting
beside me," ended Bilbo; "so I  said 'what's in  my pocket?' And he couldn't
guess in three  goes.  So I said: 'what about your promise? Show me  the way
out!' But he came at me  to kill me, and I ran, and fell over, and he missed
me in the dark. Then I followed him, because I heard him talking to himself.
He thought I really knew the way out, and so he was making  for it. And then
he sat  down in the entrance, and  I could not get  by. So I jumped over him
and escaped, and ran down to the gate."
     "What about guards?" they asked. "Weren't there any?"
     "O yes! lots of them; but I dodged  'em. I got stuck in the door, which
was only open a crack, and I lost lots of buttons," he said sadly looking at
his torn clothes. "But I squeezed through all right-and here I am."
     The  dwarves  looked at  him with quite a new  respect, when  he talked
about dodging guards, jumping over Gollum, and squeezing through, as  if  it
was not very difficult or very alarming.
     "What  did I tell you?"  said Gandalf laughing.  "Mr. Baggins has  more
about him than you  guess." He gave Bilbo a  queer look from under his bushy
eyebrows, as he said this, and the hobbit wondered if he guessed at the part
of his tale that he had left out.
     Then he had  questions of his own to ask,  for if Gandalf had explained
it all by now to the dwarves, Bilbo had not heard  it. He wanted to know how
the wizard had turned up again, and where they had all got to now.
     The wizard, to tell the  truth, never  minded explaining his cleverness
more than once, so now he had told  Bilbo that both  he and Elrond  had been
well aware of the  presence  of  evil goblins in that part of the mountains.
But their main gate used  to come out  on a different pass, one more easy to
travel  by,  so  that  they  often caught people benighted near their gates.
Evidently people  had given up going  that way,  and  the goblins must  have
opened their new entrance  at  the  top  of the  pass the dwarves had taken,
quite recently, because it had been found quite safe up to now.
     "I must see if I can't find a more or less  decent giant to block it up
again," said  Gandalf, "or soon there will be  no getting over the mountains
at all."
     As  soon  as Gandalf  had  heard  Bilbo's  yell  he  realized what  had
happened. In the flash  which  killed the goblins that were grabbing  him he
had nipped inside the  crack,  just as it snapped to.  He followed after the
drivers  and prisoners right to the edge of the great hall, and there he sat
down and worked up the best magic he could in the shadows.
     "A very ticklish business, it was," he said. "Touch and go!"
     But, of course, Gandalf  had made a special study of  bewitchments with
fire and lights (even the hobbit had never forgotten  the magic fireworks at
Old Took's midsummer-eve parties, as you remember). The rest we all  know  -
except that Gandalf knew all about the back-door,  as the goblins called the
lower gate,  where Bilbo lost his buttons. As a matter  of  fact it was well
known to  anybody who was acquainted with this part of the mountains; but it
took a wizard to keep his head  in the tunnels and guide them in  the  right
direction.
     "They  made that gate  ages ago," he said, "partly for a way of escape,
if they  needed one;  partly as a  way out into the lands beyond, where they
still come in the dark and do great damage. They guard it always and no  one
has ever managed to block  it up. They will  guard it doubly after this," he
laughed.
     All the others  laughed too.  After all they had  lost a good deal, but
they had killed the Great Goblin  and  a great many others besides, and they
had all escaped, so they might be said to have had the best of it so far.
     But the wizard called them to their senses. "We  must be getting  on at
once,  now we are a little rested," he said. "They will  be  out after us in
hundreds when night comes on; and already shadows are lengthening. They  can
smell our footsteps for  hours and hours  after we have passed. We  must  be
miles on before  dusk. There  will be  a bit of moon, if it  keeps fine, and
that  is  lucky. Not that  they  mind the moon much, but  it will give  us a
little light to steer by."
     "O yes!" he said in answer to more questions from the hobbit. "You lose
track of  time inside goblin-tunnels.  Today's Thursday, and it  was  Monday
night or  Tuesday  morning  that we were captured.  We have gone  miles  and
miles, and come right down through the heart of  the mountains, and are  now
on  the other side-quite a  short cut.  But we are not at the point to which
our pass would have brought us; we are  too far  to the North, and have some
awkward country ahead. And we are still pretty high up. Let's get on!"

     "I am so dreadfully hungry," groaned Bilbo, who was suddenly aware that
he had  not  had a meal since the night before  the night  before last. Just
think of that for  a hobbit!  His stomach felt  all  empty and loose and his
legs all wobbly, now that the excitement was over.
     "Can't help it," said Gandalf, "unless you like to go back and ask  the
goblins nicely to let you have your pony back and your luggage."
     "No thank you!" said Bilbo.
     "Very  well then, we must  just tighten our belts and trudge on - or we
shall  be made into  supper, and that  will be much worse  than  having none
ourselves."
     As they went on Bilbo looked  from  side  to side for something to eat;
but the blackberries were still only in flower, and of course  there were no
nuts, nor  even hawthorn-berries. He nibbled a  bit of sorrel, and  he drank
from a small mountain-stream that crossed the  path, and he  ate  three wild
strawberries that he found on its bank, but it was not much good.
     They  still went on and on. The rough path disappeared. The bushes, and
the long grasses,  between the boulders, the patches of rabbit-cropped turf,
the  thyme  and the sage  and the  marjoram, and  the  yellow  rockroses all
vanished, and  they  found themselves  at the top of  a wide steep slope  of
fallen stones, the remains of a landslide. When they  began to go down this,
rubbish and  small pebbles rolled away from their  feet; soon larger bits of
split  stone  went  clattering  down  and started  other  pieces  below them
slithering and rolling;  then lumps of rocks were disturbed and bounded off,
crashing down with a dust and  a  noise. Before long the whole  slope  above
them and below them seemed  on the move, and they were sliding away, huddled
all together, in a fearful confusion of slipping, rattling,  cracking  slabs
and stones.
     It was the trees at the bottom that saved them. They slid into the edge
of a climbing wood of pines that here stood right up the mountain slope from
the  deeper darker  forests of the  valleys below. Some  caught  hold of the
trunks  and  swung themselves into  lower branches,  some  (like  the little
hobbit) got behind a tree to shelter  from the  onslaught of the rocks. Soon
the danger was over, the slide had stopped, and the last faint crashes could
be heard as the largest of  the disturbed stones went bounding  and spinning
among the bracken and the pine-roots far below.
     "Well! that has  got  us  on a bit," said  Gandalf; "and  even  goblins
tracking us will have a job to come down here quietly."
     "I daresay," grumbled Bombur; "but they won't find it difficult to send
stones bouncing down on our heads." The dwarves (and Bilbo) were feeling far
from happy, and were rubbing their bruised and damaged legs and feet.
     "Nonsense! We  are  going  to  turn aside here out  of the path  of the
slide.  We  must be quick!  Look at the light!" The sun had long gone behind
the mountains.  Already the  shadows  were deepening  about them, though far
away through the trees and over the black  tops of those growing  lower down
they could  still see  the evening lights on  the plains beyond. They limped
along  now as fast as they were able down the gentle slopes of a pine forest
in  a slanting path leading steadily southwards. At  times they were pushing
through a sea of  bracken with  tall  fronds rising right above the hobbit's
head; at times  they were  marching along  quiet as  quiet  over a floor  of
pine-needles;  and  all  the  while  the  forest-gloom got  heavier  and the
forest-silence  deeper.  There was  no  wind that evening  to bring  even  a
sea-sighing into the branches of the trees.

     "Must we go any further?"  asked Bilbo,  when it  was  so dark that  he
could only just see Thorin's beard  wagging beside him, and so quiet that he
could  hear  the  dwarves'  breathing like a  loud  noise. "My toes are  all
bruised and  bent, and my legs ache, and my stomach is wagging like an empty
sack."
     "A bit further," said Gandalf.
     After what seemed ages further they  came suddenly to an opening  where
no trees grew. The moon was up and was shining into the clearing. Somehow it
struck all of them as not at all  a nice place, although  there was  nothing
wrong to see.
     All of  a  sudden they heard a howl away  down hill,  a long shuddering
howl. It was answered by another away to the right and a good deal nearer to
them; then by another not far away to the left. It was wolves howling at the
moon, wolves gathering together!
     There were no wolves living near Mr. Baggins' hole at home, but he knew
that noise. He had had it described to him often enough in tales. One of his
elder cousins  (on  the Took side), who had been  a great traveller, used to
imitate it to frighten him. To hear it out in the  forest under the moon was
too  much   for   Bilbo.   Even  magic   rings  are  not  much  use  against
wolves-especially against  the evil packs that lived under the shadow of the
goblin-infested mountains, over  the  Edge of the Wild on the borders of the
unknown.  Wolves of that sort smell  keener than goblins, and do not need to
see you to catch you!
     "What shall we do, what shall we do!" he cried. "Escaping goblins to be
caught by  wolves!" he said, and it became a proverb, though we now say 'out
of  the  frying-pan  into the  fire'  in  the  same  sort  of  uncomfortable
situations.
     "Up the trees quick!" cried  Gandalf; and they  ran to the trees at the
edge  of the glade, hunting for those that  had branches fairly low, or were
slender enough to swarm up. They found them as quick as ever they could, you
can guess; and up they went as high  as ever they could trust the  branches.
You would  have laughed (from a safe distance), if you had seen  the dwarves
sitting up in the  trees with their beards dangling down, like old gentlemen
gone cracked and playing at being boys.  Fili and  Kili were at the top of a
tall larch like an enormous Christmas tree. Dori, Nori,  On, Oin,  and Gloin
were more  comfortable in  a huge pine with regular branches sticking out at
intervals like the spokes of a wheel.  Bifur, Bofur, Bombur, and Thorin were
in  another. Dwalin and Balin had  swarmed up a  tall  slender  fir with few
branches  and  were trying to find  a place  to  sit  in the greenery of the
topmost  boughs. Gandalf, who was a good deal  taller than the  others,  had
found a  tree into which they could not climb,  a large pine standing at the
very edge of the glade. He was quite hidden in its boughs, but you could see
his eyes gleaming in the moon as he peeped out.
     And Bilbo? He could not get into any tree, and was scuttling about from
trunk to trunk, like a rabbit that has lost its hole and has a dog after it.
     "You've left the burglar behind again}" said Nori to Dori looking down.
     "I  can't  be always  carrying  burglars  on my back," said Dori, "down
tunnels and up trees! What do you think I am? A porter?"
     "He'll be eaten if we don't 'do something," said Thorin, for there were
howls all around them now, getting nearer and nearer. "Dori!" he called, for
Dori was  lowest down in the easiest tree, "be quick, and give Mr. Baggins a
hand up!"
     Dori was  really a decent fellow in  spite of his grumbling. Poor Bilbo
could not reach his hand  even when he climbed down to the bottom branch and
hung his arm down  as far  as ever he could. So Dori actually climbed out of
the tree and let Bilbo scramble up and stand on his back.
     Just at that moment the wolves trotted  howling into the  clearing. All
of a sudden there were hundreds of eyes looking  at them. Still Dori did not
let Bilbo down. He waited till he had clambered  off his shoulders  into the
branches, and then he jumped for  the branches himself. Only just in time! A
wolf  snapped- at  his cloak as he swung up, and nearly got him. In a minute
there was  a whole pack of them yelping all round the tree and leaping up at
the trunk, with eyes blazing and tongues hanging out.
     But even  the wild Wargs (for  so the evil wolves  over the Edge of the
Wild were named) cannot climb trees. For a time they were  safe. 'Luckily it
was warm and not windy. Trees are not very comfortable to sit in for long at
any time; but in the cold and the wind,  with wolves all round below waiting
for you, they can be perfectly miserable places.
     This glade  in the ring of  trees was evidently  a meeting-place of the
wolves. More and  more kept coming in.  They left guards at the  foot of the
tree in which Dori and Bilbo were, and then went  sniffling  about till they
had smelt out  every tree  that had  anyone in  it. These they guarded  too,
while all the rest (hundreds and hundreds it seemed) went and sat in a great
circle in the glade; and in the middle of the circle was  a great grey wolf.
He spoke to them in the dreadful  language of the Wargs.  Gandalf understood
it.  Bilbo did not, but it sounded terrible to him, and as if all their talk
was about cruel and wicked things, as  it  was. Every now and then  all  the
Wargs  in the  circle would answer their grey chief  all together, and their
dreadful clamour almost made the hobbit fall out of his pine-tree.
     I will tell you what Gandalf heard, though Bilbo did not understand it.
The Wargs and the goblins often  helped one another in wicked deeds. Goblins
do not usually venture very far from their mountains, unless they are driven
out and are  looking for new homes, or are marching to  war (which I am glad
to say has not happened for  a long while). But in those days they sometimes
used to go on raids, especially to get food or slaves to work for them. Then
they often got the Wargs to help and shared the plunder with them. Sometimes
they  rode on wolves like  men do  on  horses.  Now it  seemed  that a great
goblin-raid had been planned for that very night. The Wargs had come to meet
the  goblins and the goblins were late.  The reason, no doubt, was the death
of the Great Goblin, and all the excitement caused by the  dwarves and Bilbo
and the wizard, for whom they were probably still hunting.
     In  spite of the dangers of  this  far land bold men  had of late  been
making their  way  back  into it from  the  South, cutting  down trees,  and
building themselves  places  to live in among the more pleasant woods in the
valleys and  along the river-shores. There were many of  them, and they were
brave and well-armed, and even the Wargs dared not attack them if there were
many together, or  in the  bright day. But now  they  had planned  with  the
goblins'  help  to  come by  night  upon  some of the  villages nearest  the
mountains. If their plan had been carried out, there  would have  been  none
left there  next  day; all would have been killed except the few the goblins
kept from the wolves and carried back as prisoners to their caves.
     This  was  dreadful  talk to listen to,  not only because  of the brave
woodmen and their wives  and children, but also  because of the danger which
now threatened Gandalf and his friends. The Wargs were angry and puzzled  at
finding  them  here  in  their  very meeting-place. They thought  they  were
friends of the woodmen, and were come to spy on them, and would take news of
their plans down into the valleys, and then the goblins and the wolves would
have to fight a terrible battle instead of capturing prisoners and devouring
people waked suddenly  from their  sleep. So the  Wargs had no  intention of
going away and letting the people up the trees escape, at any rate not until
morning. And  long before that,  they said, goblin soldiers would be  coming
down from the mountains; and goblins can climb trees, or cut them down.
     Now  you  can understand why Gandalf, listening  to  their growling and
yelping,  began  to be dreadfully afraid, wizard though he was, and  to feel
that they were in a very bad place, and had not  yet escaped at all. All the
same he was not going to let them have it all their own way, though he could
not do very much stuck up in a tall tree with wolves all round on the ground
below. He gathered the huge pinecones from the branches of his tree. Then he
set one  alight with bright blue fire, and  threw it whizzing down among the
circle of the  wolves. It struck one on the back, and immediately his shaggy
coat  caught  fire,  and he  was  leaping to and fro yelping  horribly. Then
another came and another,  one in blue flames, one in red, another in green.
They burst  on  the  ground  in the  middle of  the  circle  and went off in
coloured sparks  and  smoke. A specially large one hit the chief wolf on the
nose, and he leaped in the air ten feet, and then rushed round and round the
circle biting and snapping even at the other wolves in his anger and fright.
     The dwarves and Bilbo shouted  and cheered.  The rage of the wolves was
terrible to see, and the commotion  they  made filled all the forest. Wolves
are afraid  of fire  at  all times, but this was a most horrible and uncanny
fire.  If a spark  got in their  coats  it stuck  and burned  into them, and
unless they rolled over  quick they were soon  all in  flames. Very soon all
about the glade wolves were  rolling over and over to  put out the sparks on
their backs,  while  those that were burning were running  about howling and
setting others alight, till their own friends chased them away and they fled
off down the slopes crying and yammering and looking for water.

     "What's all this  uproar in the forest tonight?"  said  the Lord of the
Eagles. He was  sitting, black in  the  moonlight,  on  the top  of a lonely
pinnacle  of  rock at  the eastern edge  of  the mountains. "I  hear wolves'
voices! Are the goblins at mischief in the woods?"
     He  swept up into the air, and immediately two of his  guards  from the
rocks at either hand leaped up to follow him. They circled up in the sky and
looked down upon the ring of  the Wargs, a  tiny  spot  far  far below.  But
eagles have keen eyes and can see small things at a great distance. The lord
of the eagles  of  the Misty Mountains had eyes  that  could look at the sun
unblinking, and could see a rabbit moving on the ground a mile below even in
the moonlight. So though he could not see the  people in the trees, he could
make out  the commotion  among the  wolves and see the tiny flashes of fire,
and hear the howling and yelping come up faint from far beneath him. Also he
could see the glint of the moon on goblin spears and helmets, as long  lines
of  the wicked folk crept down the  hillsides from their gate and wound into
the wood.
     Eagles are not kindly  birds.  Some  are cowardly  and  cruel.  But the
ancient race of the northern  mountains were the greatest of all birds; they
were proud and  strong and noble-hearted. They did not love goblins, or fear
them. When  they took any  notice of them at all (which was seldom, for they
did not eat such creatures ), they swooped on them and drove them  shrieking
back to  their caves,  and stopped whatever wickedness they  were doing. The
goblins hated the eagles  and feared them,  but could not reach their  lofty
seats, or drive them from the mountains.
     Tonight the  Lord of the Eagles was  filled with curiosity to know what
was afoot;  so he summoned many other eagles to him, and they flew away from
the  mountains, and slowly circling  ever round and round  they  came  down,
down, down  towards  the  ring of  the wolves and the meeting-place  of  the
goblins.
     A  very good thing too! Dreadful things had been going  on  down there.
The wolves that had caught fire and fled into  the forest had set  it alight
in several  places.  It was high summer, and  on  this eastern  side  of the
mountains  there  had  been  little rain for some  time.  Yellowing bracken,
fallen branches,  deep-piled  pine-needles, and  here and there dead  trees,
were soon  in flames. All round the  clearing of the Wargs fire was leaping.
But the wolf-guards did not  leave the trees. Maddened  and angry they  were
leaping and  howling round  the  trunks,  and  cursing the dwarves  in their
horrible language, with their tongues hanging out, and their eyes shining as
red and fierce as the flames.
     Then suddenly  goblins came  running up yelling.  They thought a battle
with  the  woodmen  was  going  on; but  they goon learned  what had  really
happened. Some of  them actually sat down  and laughed.  Others  waved their
spears and clashed the  shafts against their shields. Goblins are not afraid
of fire, and they soon had a plan which seemed to them most amusing.
     Some  got  all  the wolves  together in  a pack. Some stacked  fern and
brushwood round the tree-trunks. Others  rushed  round and stamped and beat,
and beat and stamped, until nearly all the flames  were put out-but they did
not put out the fire nearest to the trees where the dwarves  were. That fire
they fed  with leaves and dead branches and bracken. Soon they had a ring of
smoke and flame all round the dwarves, a ring which they kept from spreading
outwards; but it closed slowly  in, till the running  fire  was  licking the
fuel piled  under the  trees. Smoke  was  in Bilbo's eyes, he could feel the
heat  of the  flames; and through the reek he could  see the goblins dancing
round and round in a  circle like people  round a midsummer bonfire. Outside
the  ring of dancing  warriors with spears  and axes stood  the wolves  at a
respectful distance, watching and waiting.
     He could hear the goblins beginning a horrible song:

     Fifteen birds in five firtrees,
     their feathers were fanned in a fiery breeze!
     But, funny little birds, they had no wings!
     O what shall we do with the funny little things?
     Roast 'em alive, or stew them in a pot;
     fry them, boil them and eat them hot?

     Then they stopped and shouted out: "Fly away little  birds! Fly away if
you can! Come down  little birds,  or you  will  get roasted in your  nests!
Sing, sing little birds! Why don't you sing?"
     "Go  away!  little  boys!"  shouted  Gandalf  in  answer.   "It   isn't
bird-nesting  time.  Also  naughty  little  boys  that  play  with fire  get
punished."  He  said it to  make them  angry,  and  to show them he was  not
frightened of them-though of course he  was,  wizard though he was. But they
took no notice, and they went on singing.

     Burn, burn tree and fern!
     Shrivel and scorch! A fizzling torch
     To light the night for our delight,
     Ya hey!

     Bake and toast 'em, fry and roast 'em
     till beards blaze, and eyes glaze;
     till hair smells and skins crack,
     fat melts, and bones black
     in cinders lie
     beneath the sky!

     So dwarves shall die,
     and light the night for our delight,
     Ya hey!
     Ya-harri-heyl
     Ya hoy!

     And with that Ya hoy! the flames were under Gandalf's tree. In a moment
it spread to the others. The bark caught fire, the lower branches cracked.
     Then Gandalf climbed  to  the top  of  his  tree.  The sudden splendour
flashed from his wand like lightning, as he got ready to spring down from on
high right among the spears of the goblins. That  would have been the end of
him, though he would probably have killed many  of  them as he came hurtling
down like a thunderbolt. But he never leaped.
     Just  at that  moment the Lord of the  Eagles  swept  down from  above,
seized him in his talons, and was gone.

     There was a howl of anger and surprise from the goblins. Loud cried the
Lord of  the Eagles, to whom Gandalf had  now spoken. Back swept  the  great
birds that  were with him, and down they came  like huge  black shadows. The
wolves yammered and gnashed their teeth; the goblins yelled and stamped with
rage, and flung their heavy spears in the air in vain. Over them swooped the
eagles;  the  dark  rush of their  beating wings smote them to the  floor or
drove  them far away; their talons tore at goblin faces. Other birds flew to
the tree-tops and seized the dwarves,  who were scrambling  up now as far as
ever they dared to go.
     Poor little Bilbo was very nearly left behind again! He just managed to
catch hold of Dori's legs, as Dori was borne off last of all; and  they went
together  above the tumult and the burning, Bilbo swinging in  the  air with
his arms nearly breaking.
     Now far below the  goblins and the wolves were scattering  far and wide
in  the  woods.  A few eagles  were still circling  and  sweeping  above the
battle-ground.  The flames about the trees  sprang  suddenly  up  above  the
highest branches. They went up in crackling  fire. There was a sudden flurry
of sparks and smoke. Bilbo had escaped only just in time!
     Soon the light  of the  burning was  faint below, a red twinkle on  the
black floor; and they were high up in the sky, rising all the time in strong
sweeping circles. Bilbo  never  forgot  that flight,  clinging  onto  Dori's
ankles. He  moaned "my arms, my  arms!"; but Dori groaned "my poor legs,  my
poor legs!"
     At the best of times heights made Bilbo giddy. He used to turn queer if
he looked over the  edge of quite a  little  cliff;  and he  had never liked
ladders, let alone trees (never having had to escape from wolves before). So
you  can  imagine  how his head  swam  now, when he  looked down between his
dangling  toes and saw the  dark lands opening wide underneath him,  touched
here and there with the light of the moon on a hill-side rock or a stream in
the plains.
     The pale peaks  of  the mountains were coming nearer, moonlit spikes of
rock sticking out of  black shadows. Summer or not,  it seemed very cold. He
shut  his eyes and wondered if he could hold on any longer. Then he imagined
what would happen if he did not. He felt sick. The flight ended only just in
time for him, just  before his arms gave way. He loosed Dori's ankles with a
gasp and  fell  onto  the  rough platform of an eagle's eyrie.  There he lay
without speaking, and his thoughts were a mixture of surprise at being saved
from the  fire, and  fear lest he fell off that narrow  place into the  deep
shadows on either side. He was feeling very queer indeed in his head by this
time  after  the  dreadful adventures of the  last three days  with next  to
nothing to eat, and he found himself saying aloud: "Now I  know what a piece
of bacon feels like when it is suddenly picked out of the pan on  a fork and
put back on the shelf!"
     "No you don't!" be heard Dori  answering, "because the bacon knows that
it  will  get back in the  pan sooner  or later; and it  is to  be  hoped we
shan't. Also eagles aren't forks!"
     "O no! Not a  bit like storks-forks, I mean," said Bilbo sitting up and
looking anxiously at the eagle who was perched close by.  He  wondered  what
other nonsense he had been saying, and if the eagle would think it rude. You
ought not to be rude to  an  eagle, when you are only the size of a  hobbit,
and are up in his eyrie at night!
     The eagle only sharpened his  beak  on a stone and trimmed his feathers
and took no notice.
     Soon  another eagle flew up. "The  Lord of the Eagles bids you to bring
your  prisoners to the Great Shelf," he  cried and was off  again. The other
seized Dori in his claws and flew away with him into the night leaving Bilbo
all alone. He  had just strength to  wonder what  the messenger had meant by
'prisoners,'  and to begin  to  think  of being torn  up for  supper  like a
rabbit,  when his  own turn  came. The eagle  came  back,  seized him in his
talons by the back  of his coat, and  swooped off. This  time he flew only a
short way. Very soon Bilbo was  laid  down, trembling with fear, on  a  wide
shelf of rock on the mountain-side. There was no path down  on to it save by
flying; and no path down off it except by jumping over a precipice. There he
found all the others sitting with their backs to the mountain wall. The Lord
of the Eagles also was there and was speaking to Gandalf.
     It seemed  that Bilbo was not going to be eaten  after  all. The wizard
and the eagle-lord appeared  to know one another slightly, and even to be on
friendly  terms. As  a matter of  fact Gandalf,  who had  often been  in the
mountains, had  once rendered  a service to the eagles and healed their lord
from an arrow-wound. So  you see  'prisoners' had  meant 'prisoners  rescued
from the goblins' only, and not captives of the eagles. As Bilbo listened to
the  talk of  Gandalf  he realized  that at last they were  going  to escape
really and truly from the dreadful mountains.  He was  discussing plans with
the  Great Eagle for carrying the dwarves and himself and Bilbo far away and
setting them down well on their journey across the plains below.
     The Lord  of the Eagles would not  take them anywhere  near  where  men
lived. "They would shoot at us with their  great bows of yew," he said, "for
they would think we were after their sheep. And at other times they would be
right. No! we  are glad to cheat  the  goblins  of their sport, and  glad to
repay our thanks to you, but we will not  risk  ourselves for dwarves in the
southward plains."
     "Very well," said Gandalf. "Take us where and  as far as  you  will! We
are already deeply obliged  to you. But in the meantime we are famished with
hunger."
     "I am nearly dead of it," said Bilbo in a weak little voice that nobody
heard.
     "That can perhaps be mended," said the Lord of the Eagles.
     Later on you might have seen a bright fire on the shelf of rock and the
figures of  the dwarves round it cooking  and  making a fine roasting smell.
The eagles had brought up dry boughs for fuel, and they had brought rabbits,
hares, and a small  sheep.  The dwarves  managed all the preparations. Bilbo
was too weak to help, and anyway he was not much good at skinning rabbits or
cutting up meat, being used to having it delivered  by the butcher all ready
to cook.  Gandalf, too, was  lying down after doing his part in setting  the
fire  going, since Oin and  Gloin had lost their tinder-boxes. (Dwarves have
never taken to matches even yet.)
     So  ended  the  adventures of the Misty Mountains. Soon Bilbo's stomach
was  feeling  full  and  comfortable  again,  and  he  felt  he  could sleep
contentedly, though really he would have liked a loaf and butter better than
bits  of  meat toasted  on  sticks. He slept curled up on the hard rock more
soundly than ever he had  done on his feather-bed in his own little hole  at
home.  But all night he  dreamed of  his own house and wandered in his sleep
into  all his different rooms looking  for something  that he could not find
nor remember what it looked like.

Chapter 7. Queer Lodgings

     The next morning  Bilbo  woke  up with  the early sun  in his  eyes. He
jumped up to look  at the  time and to go and put his kettle on-and found he
was not home at all. So he sat  down  and wished  in vain  for  a wash and a
brush. He did not get either, nor tea nor toast nor bacon for his breakfast,
only cold mutton and rabbit.  And after that he had to get ready for a fresh
start.
     This time  he  was  allowed to climb on  to  an eagle's back and  cling
between his wings. The air rushed over him and he shut his eyes. The dwarves
were crying farewells  and promising to repay the lord of the eagles if ever
they could, as off rose fifteen  great birds  from the  mountain's side. The
sun was still close to the eastern edge of things. The morning was cool, and
mists were in the  valleys and hollows and twined here  and there  about the
peaks and pinnacles  of  the hills. Bilbo opened an eye to peep and saw that
the birds were already high up and the world was far away, and the mountains
were falling back behind them into  the distance. He shut his eyes again and
held on tighter.
     "Don't  pinch!"  said  his eagle.  "You need  not be  frightened like a
rabbit, even if you look  rather like one. It is a fair morning  with little
wind. What is finer than flying?"
     Bilbo would have liked  to say: "A warm bath  and late breakfast on the
lawn afterwards;" but he thought it better to say nothing at all, and to let
go his clutch just a tiny bit.
     After a good while the eagles must have seen the point they were making
for, 'even from their great height, for they began to go down circling round
in  great spirals. They did  this for a  long  while, and at last the hobbit
opened  his eyes again. The earth was much nearer, and below them were trees
that looked  like oaks and elms, and wide  grass lands, and  a river running
through it  all. But  cropping out of the  ground, right  in the path of the
stream  which looped itself about  it,  was  a great rock, almost a hill  of
stone, like a last outpost of the  distant mountains,  or  a huge piece cast
miles into the plain by some giant among giants.
     Quickly now  to the top of this rock the  eagles swooped one by one and
set down their passengers.
     "Farewell!" they  cried, "wherever you  fare, till your  eyries receive
you at the journey's end!" That is the polite thing to say among eagles.
     "May the  wind under your wings bear  you where the sun sails  and  the
moon walks," answered Gandalf, who knew the correct reply.
     And so they parted.  And though the lord  of the eagles became in after
days  the  King  of All Birds  and wore  a  golden crown,  and  his  fifteen
chieftains golden  collars  (made of the gold that the  dwarves  gave them),
Bilbo never saw them again-except high and far  off in  the  battle  of Five
Armies. But as that comes in  at the end of this  tale  we will say  no more
about it just now.
     There was  a flat space on the top of the hill of stone and a well worn
path with many steps leading down  it  to the river, across  which a ford of
huge flat stones led to the grass-land beyond the stream. There was a little
cave (a wholesome one with a pebbly floor) at the foot of the steps and near
the end of the stony ford. Here the party gathered and discussed what was to
be done.
     "I always meant to see you all safe (if  possible) over the mountains,"
said the wizard, "and now  by  good management and good luck I have done it.
Indeed we  are now a good deal further  east than I ever meant  to come with
you,  for after all  this is  not my adventure.  I may look  in on  it again
before  it is  all over,  but in the meanwhile I  have some  other  pressing
business to attend to."
     The dwarves  groaned and  looked most distressed, and Bilbo wept.  They
had begun to think Gandalf was going in come all the way and would always be
there  to help them out of difficulties. "I am not going  to disappear  this
very instant," said he. "I  can give you  a day or two more. Probably I  can
help  you  out of your present plight, and I need  a little  help myself. We
have  no  food, and no baggage, and  no  ponies to  ride; and you don't know
where you are.  Now I can  tell you that. You are still some miles  north of
the  path  which  we  should  have been following,  if we  had not  left the
mountain pass in a hurry. Very  few people live  in these parts, unless they
have come here since I was last down this way, which is  some years ago. But
there is somebody that I know of, who lives not far away. That Somebody made
the
     steps on the great rock-the Carrock I believe he calls  it. He does not
come here often, certainly not in the daytime, and it is no good waiting for
him. In fact it would be very dangerous. We must go and find him; and if all
goes  well at  our meeting, I  think  I shall be off  and wish you  like the
eagles 'farewell wherever you fare!' "
     They begged him not to  leave them.  They  offered him  dragon-gold and
silver and jewels, but he would not change his mind.
     "We  shall  see,  we shall see!"  he said, "and  I think I have  earned
already some of your dragon-gold - when you have got it."

     After that they stopped  pleading. Then they took off their clothes and
bathed in the river, which was shallow and clear and stony at the ford. When
they had  dried  in  the  sun,  which  was now  strong and  warm,  they were
refreshed, if still  sore and a  little hungry. Soon  they crossed the  ford
(carrying the hobbit),  and then began to march through the long green grass
and down the lines of the wide-armed oaks and the tall elms.
     "And why is it called the Carrock?" asked Bilbo as he went along at the
wizard's side.
     "He called it the Carrock, because carrock is his word for it. He calls
things like  that carrocks,  and this one is the Carrock  because it is  the
only one near his home and he knows it well."
     "Who calls it? Who knows it?"
     "The Somebody I  spoke of-a  very  great person. You must  all be  very
polite when I introduce  you.  I shall introduce you  slowly,  two by two, I
think; and you must be careful not to annoy him, or  heaven knows what  will
happen. He  can be  appalling when he is angry, though he is kind  enough if
humoured. Still I warn you he gets angry easily."
     The dwarves all gathered round when  they heard the wizard talking like
this  to Bilbo. "Is that the person you  are taking  us to now?" they asked.
"Couldn't you find someone more easy-tempered? Hadn't you better explain  it
all a bit clearer?"-and so on.
     "Yes  it certainly  is! No  I  could  not! And I  was  explaining  very
carefully," answered the wizard crossly. "If you must know more, his name is
Beorn. He is very strong, and he is a skin-changer."
     "What! a furrier, a man that calls rabbits conies, when he doesn't turn
their skins into squirrels?" asked Bilbo.
     "Good gracious heavens, no, no, NO, NO!" said Gandalf. "Don't be a fool
Mr. Baggins if you can help it; and in the  name of all wonder don't mention
the word furrier again as  long as you  are  within  a  hundred miles of his
house, nor, rug, cape, tippet, muff, nor any other such unfortunate word! He
is  a skin-changer. He changes his skin;  sometimes he is a huge black bear,
sometimes he is a great  strong black-haired  man with huge arms and a great
beard. I cannot tell you much more, though that ought to be enough. Some say
that he  is  a  bear descended  from  the great  and  ancient  bears  of the
mountains  that lived there before the giants came. Others  say that he is a
man descended from the first men who lived before Smaug or the other dragons
came into this part of the world, and before the goblins came into the hills
out of the North. I cannot say, though I fancy the last is the true tale. He
is not the sort of person to ask questions of.
     "At any  rate he is under no enchantment but his own. He  lives  in  an
oak-wood  and  has  a great  wooden  house; and as a man he keeps cattle and
horses which are nearly is marvellous as himself. They work for him and talk
to him. He  does not eat them; neither does he hunt or eat wild  animals. He
keeps hives  and  hives  of great  fierce bees, and lives most on cream  and
honey. As a bear he ranges far and wide. I once saw him sitting all alone on
the top of the Carrock at night watching the moon sinking towards  the Misty
Mountains, and I heard him growl in the tongue  of bears; 'The day will come
when they  will  perish and I shall go back!'  That is why I believe he once
came from the mountains himself."

     Bilbo and the dwarves had now plenty to think about, and  they asked no
more questions. They still had a long way to walk before  them. Up slope and
down dale they plodded.  It grew  very hot. Sometimes they  rested under the
trees, and then Bilbo felt so hungry that he would have eaten acorns, if any
had been ripe enough yet to have fallen to the ground.
     It was  the  middle of  the  afternoon before they noticed  that  great
patches  of  flowers had begun  to  spring up,  all  the  same kinds growing
together as  if they had been planted. Especially  there  was clover, waving
patches of cockscomb clover,  and purple clover, and wide stretches of short
white sweet honey-smelling clover. There was a buzzing and  a whirring and a
droning in  the air. Bees were busy everywhere.  And such  bees!  Bilbo  had
never seen anything like them.
     "If one was to  sting me," he thought, "I should swell  up as big again
as I am!"
     They were bigger than hornets. The drones were  bigger than your thumb,
a good deal, and the bands  of  yellow on their deep black bodies shone like
fiery gold.
     "We  are getting  near,"  said  Gandalf.  "We are on  the edge  of  his
bee-pastures."
     After a while they  came to a belt  of tall  and very ancient oaks, and
beyond these to a  high thorn-hedge through  which you could neither see nor
scramble.
     "You had better wait here," said the wizard to the dwarves; "and when I
call or whistle begin to come after me -- you will see the way I go-but only
in  pairs, mind, about five  minutes  between  each  pair of you. Bombur  is
fattest and  will do for two, he had better come alone and last. Come on Mr.
Baggins!  There  is a gate somewhere round this way." And with that he  went
off along the hedge taking the frightened hobbit with him.
     They soon  came to a  wooden  gate,  high and broad,  beyond which they
could see  gardens and a cluster of low wooden buildings,  some thatched and
made of unshaped logs; barns, stables, sheds, and a long low wooden house.
     Inside  on the southward side of the great hedge were rows and rows  of
hives with  bell-shaped tops  made  of  straw. The  noise of the giant  bees
flying to and fro and crawling in and out filled all the air.
     The wizard  and the hobbit pushed open the heavy creaking gate and went
down  a   wide  track  towards  the  house.  Some  horses,  very  sleek  and
well-groomed, trotted up  across the  grass and looked at them intently with
very intelligent faces; then off they galloped to the buildings.
     "They have gone to tell him of the arrival of strangers," said Gandalf.
     Soon they reached a courtyard, three walls of which were  formed by the
wooden house and  its two long wings. In the middle there  was lying a great
oak-trunk  with many lopped branches beside it. Standing near was a huge man
with a  thick  black beard  and' hair, and great  bare  arms  and  legs with
knotted muscles. He was  clothed in a tunic of wool  down  to his knees, and
was leaning on a large axe.
     The horses were standing by him with their noses at his shoulder.
     "Ugh!  here they  are!"  he  said  to  the  horses.  "They  don't  look
dangerous. You can be off!" He laughed a great rolling  laugh, put  down his
axe and came forward.
     "Who are you and what do you want?" he asked gruffly, standing in front
of them and towering tall above Gandalf.
     As for Bilbo he could  easily  have  trotted through  his legs  without
ducking his head to miss the fringe of the man's brown tunic.
     "I am Gandalf," said the wizard.
     "Never heard of him," growled the man, "And what's this little fellow?"
he said, stooping down to frown at the hobbit with his bushy eyebrows.
     "That  is Mr.  Baggins,  a  hobbit  of good  family  and  unimpeachable
reputation," said Gandalf. Bilbo bowed. He  had no hat to take off, and  was
painfully conscious of his many  missing buttons. "I am a wizard," continued
Gandalf. "I have heard of you, if you  have not heard of me; but perhaps you
have heard of my good cousin Radagast who lives near the Southern borders of
Mirkwood?"
     "Yes; not a  bad fellow as wizards go, I believe. I used to see him now
and  again," said Beorn. "Well, now I know who you are, or  who you say  you
are. What do you want?"
     "To  tell you  the truth,  we have lost our luggage and nearly lost our
way, and  are rather in need of help, or at least  advice. I may say we have
had rather a bad time with goblins in the mountains."
     "Goblins?" said the big man less  gruffly. "O ho, so you've been having
trouble with them have you? What did you go near them for?"
     "We did not mean to. They surprised  us at night in a pass which we had
to cross, we were coming out of  the Lands over West into these countries-it
is a long tale."
     "Then you  had better  come inside and tell me some of  it, if it won't
take all day," said the man leading the way  through a dark door that opened
out of the courtyard into the house.
     Following him they found themselves in a wide hall with a fire-place in
the middle. Though it was summer there was a wood-fire burning and the smoke
was  rising to the blackened rafters  in search of  the  way out  through an
opening in the roof. They passed through this dim hall, lit only by the fire
and the hole above it,  and came through another smaller door into a sort of
veranda propped on wooden posts made of single tree-trunks. It  faced  south
and was still  warm and  filled with  the light  of  the westering sun which
slanted into it, and  fell golden on  the garden full  of flowers  that came
right up to the steps.
     Here they sat on wooden benches while Gandalf began his tale, and Bilbo
swung his dangling legs and looked at  the flowers in  the garden, wondering
what their names could be, as he had never seen half of them before.
     "I  was coming over the mountains with  a  friend  or two..." said  the
wizard.
     "Or two? I can only see one, and a little one at that," said Beorn.
     "Well to tell you the truth, I did not like to bother you with a lot of
us, until I found out if you were busy. I will give a call, if I may."
     "Go on, call away!"
     So  Gandalf gave a long shrill whistle, and  presently Thorin  and Dori
came round the house by the garden path and stood bowing low before them.
     "One or three you meant, I see!" said Beorn. "But these aren't hobbits,
they are dwarves!"
     "Thorin Oakenshield,  at  your service! Dori at your service!" said the
two dwarves bowing again.
     "I don't need your service, thank you,"  said Beorn, "but I expect  you
need mine. I am not over fond of dwarves; but if it is true  you are  Thorin
(son  of  Thrain,  son  of Thror, I believe),  and  that  your companion  is
respectable, and  that  you are  enemies of  goblins  and are not up to  any
mischief in my lands-what are you up to, by the way?"
     "They are on  their way to visit the land of their fathers,  away  east
beyond  Mirkwood," put  in Gandalf, "and it is entirely an  accident that we
are in your lands at all. We were crossing by the High Pass that should have
brought us to the road that lies to the south  of your country, when we were
attacked by the evil goblins-as I was about to tell you."
     "Go on telling, then!" said Beorn, who was never very polite.
     "There  was a terrible storm; the  stone-giants were out hurling rocks,
and at the head of  the pass we took refuge in a cave, the hob bit and I and
several of our companions..."
     "Do you call two several?"
     "Well, no. As a matter of fact there were more than two."
     "Where are they? Killed, eaten, gone home?"
     "Well, no.  They don't seem all to  have  come when I whistled. Shy,  I
expect. You see, we are very much afraid that we are rather a lot for you to
entertain."
     "Go on, whistle again! I  am  in for a party, it seems, and  one or two
more won't make much difference," growled Beorn.
     Gandalf whistled  again; but Nori and Ori  were  there almost before he
had stopped,  for,  if  you remember, Gandalf had told them to come in pairs
every five minutes.
     "Hullo!" said Beorn. "You came pretty quick-where were you hiding? Come
on my jack-in-the-boxes!"
     "Nori at your service,  Ori at . . ." they began; but Beorn interrupted
them.
     "Thank you!  When I  want  your help I will ask for  it. Sit  down, and
let's get on with this tale, or it will be supper-time before it is ended."
     "As soon as we were asleep," went on  Gandalf, "a crack at the back  of
the cave opened; goblins came out and grabbed the hobbit and the dwarves and
our troop of ponies--"
     "Troop of ponies?  What  were  you-a  travelling  circus? Or  were  you
carrying lots of goods? Or do you always call six a troop?"
     "O no! As a matter of fact there were more  than six ponies, for  there
were more than six of us-and  well, here are two more!" Just  at that moment
Balin and Dwalin appeared and bowed so low that their beards swept the stone
floor. The big man was frowning at first, but they did their very best to be
frightfully  polite, and  kept on nodding and bending and bowing  and waving
their hoods before their  knees  (in proper dwarf-fashion), till  he stopped
frowning and burst into a chuckling laugh; they looked so comical.
     "Troop, was right," he said. "A fine  comic one. Come  in my merry men,
and  what  are your names? I  don't want your service  just now,  only  your
names; and then sit down and stop wagging!"
     "Balin and Dwalin," they said not daring to be  offended,  and sat flop
on the floor looking rather surprised.
     "Now go on again!" said Beorn to the wizard.
     "Where was 1? O yes-- I was  not grabbed. I killed a goblin or two with
a flash--"
     "Good!" growled Beorn. "It is some good being a wizard, then."
     "--and slipped inside the crack before it closed.  I followed down into
the main  hall,  which was crowded with  goblins. The Great Goblin was there
with thirty  or forty armed  guards. I thought  to myself 'even if they were
not all chained together, what can a dozen do against so many?' "
     "A dozen!  That's  the  first  time I've heard eight called a dozen. Or
have  you still  got some  more  jacks that  haven't yet come  out of  their
boxes?"
     "Well, yes, there seem to be a couple more here now -- Fili and Kili, I
believe,"  said Gandalf, as  these  two now appeared  and  stood smiling and
bowing.
     "That's  enough!"  said Beorn.  "Sit  down and be  quiet!  Now  go  on,
Gandalf!"
     So Gandalf went on with  the  tale, until he  came to the fight in  the
dark, the discovery of the lower gate, and their horror when they found that
Mr. Baggins had been mislaid.
     "We counted  ourselves  and  found that there was no hobbit. There were
only fourteen of us left!"
     "Fourteen!  That's  the  first  time  I've heard  one  from  ten  leave
fourteen.  You mean  nine, or else you  haven't told me yet all the names of
your party."
     "Well, of  course  you haven't seen Oin and  Gloin  yet. And, bless me!
here they are. I hope you will forgive them for bothering you."
     "O let 'em all come! Hurry  up! Come along, you two, and sit down!  But
look here,  Gandalf, even now we have only got yourself  and ten dwarves and
the hobbit that was  lost. That only makes eleven (plus one mislaid) and not
fourteen, unless  wizards count  differently to other people. But now please
get on with the tale." Beorn did  not show it more  than he  could help, but
really he had begun to get very interested. You see,  in the old days he had
known the very part of the mountains that Gandalf was describing.  He nodded
and  he  growled, when  he heard  of the hobbit's reappearance and  of their
scramble down the stone-slide and of the wolf-ring m the woods. When Gandalf
came to their climbing into  trees with the wolves all underneath, he got up
and strode about and muttered:
     "I wish I had been there! I would have given them more than fireworks!"
     "Well,"  said  Gandalf very glad to see that his tale was making a good
impression, "I did the best I could. There we were with the wolves going mad
underneath us and the forest beginning to blaze  in places, when the goblins
came down from the hills  and discovered  us. They  yelled with delight  and
sang songs making fun of us. Fifteen birds in five fir-trees..."
     "Good heavens!" growled Beorn. "Don't pretend that goblins can't count.
They can. Twelve isn't fifteen and they know it."
     "And so do 1. There were Bifur and Bofur as well. I haven't ventured to
introduce them before, but here they are."
     In came Bifur and Bofur. "And  me!" gasped Bombur pulling up behind. He
was fat, and also angry at being left till  last. He refused  to  wait  five
minutes, and followed immediately after the other two.
     "Well, now there are  fifteen of you;  and since goblins can  count,  I
suppose that is all that there  were up the trees. Now perhaps we can finish
this story without any more interruptions."  Mr. Baggins saw then how clever
Gandalf had been. The interruptions had really made Beorn more interested in
the story, and  the story had kept him from sending the dwarves off at  once
like suspicious beggars. He never invited people into his house, if he could
help  it. He had  very few  friends and they lived a good way  away;  and he
never invited more than a couple of these to his house at a time. Now he had
got fifteen strangers sitting in his porch!
     By  the  time  the wizard  had finished his  tale and  had told  of the
eagles'  rescue and of how they had all been brought to the Carrock, the sun
had fallen behind the peaks of the Misty Mountains and the shadows were long
in Beorn's garden.
     "A very good tale!" said he. "The best I have  heard for a long  while.
If all  beggars could tell such a good one, they might  find me kinder.  You
may  be making it all up, of course,  but you deserve a supper for the story
all the same. Let's have something to eat!"
     "Yes, please!" they all said together. "Thank you very much!"
     Inside the hall it was now quite  dark. Beorn clapped his hands, and in
trotted four beautiful white ponies and several large long-bodied grey dogs.
Beorn said  something to them in a queer language  like animal noises turned
into talk. They went  out again and soon came back carrying torches in their
mouths, which they lit at the fire and stuck  in low brackets on the pillars
of the hall about the central hearth.
     The  dogs  could stand  on their  hind-legs when they wished, and carry
things with their fore-feet. Quickly  they got  out boards and trestles from
the side walls and set them up near the fire.
     Then baa-baa-baa! was heard, and in came some snow-white sheep led by a
large coal-black ram. One bore  a white cloth embroidered  at the edges with
figures  of animals;  others bore on their broad backs trays  with bowls and
platters and knives and wooden spoons, which the dogs took and quickly  laid
on the trestle tables. These were very low, low enough even for Bilbo to sit
at comfortably. Beside them  a pony pushed  two low-seated benches with wide
rush-bottoms and  little short thick  legs for Gandalf and Thorin, while  at
the far end he put Beorn's big black chair of the same sort (in which he sat
with his great  legs  stuck  far out under the  table).  These were all  the
chairs he had in his hall,  and he probably had them low like the tables for
the convenience of the wonderful  animals  that waited on him. What did  the
rest sit on? They were not forgotten. The other ponies came in rolling round
drum-shaped sections of logs, smoothed and polished, and low enough even for
Bilbo;  so soon they were all seated at Beorn's table,  and the hall had not
seen such a gathering for many a year.
     There  they had  a supper,  or a dinner, such as they had not had since
they left the Last Homely House in the West and said good-bye to Elrond. The
light  of the torches and the fire flickered  about  them, and on the  table
were two tall red beeswax candles. All the  time they ate, Beorn in his deep
rolling voice told tales  of the wild lands  on this side of  the mountains,
and especially of the dark and dangerous wood, that lay outstretched far  to
North and South a day's ride before them, barring their way to the East, the
terrible forest of Mirkwood.
     The dwarves  listened and shook  their beards, for they  knew that they
must soon venture  into that forest and that after the mountains  it was the
worst of  the  perils  they had to  pass before  they  came to the  dragon's
stronghold. When dinner  was over they began to tell tales of their own, but
Beorn seemed to  be growing drowsy and paid little  heed to them. They spoke
most of gold and silver and  jewels and the making of things by smith-craft,
and Beorn  did  not appear to care  for such things: there were no things of
gold or silver in his hall,  and  few save the knives were made of metal  at
all.
     They sat long at the table with their wooden drinking-bowls filled with
mead. The dark  night came  on outside. The  fires in the middle of the hall
were built with fresh logs and the torches were put out, and still  they sat
in  the  light of the dancing flames with the pillars of  the house standing
tall behind them, arid dark at the top like trees of the forest.  Whether it
was  magic or not, it seemed to Bilbo that he heard a sound like wind in the
branches stirring in the rafters, and the hoot of owls. Soon he began to nod
with sleep  and the voices  seemed  to grow far  away, until he woke with  a
start.
     The  great door had creaked and  slammed. Beorn  was  gone. The dwarves
were sitting  cross-legged on the floor round  the fire,  and presently they
began to sing. Some of the verses were like this,  but there were many more,
and their singing went on for a long while:

     The wind was on the withered heath,
     but in the forest stirred no leaf:
     there shadows lay by night and day,
     and dark things silent crept beneath.
     The wind came down from mountains cold,
     and like a tide it roared and rolled;
     the branches groaned, the forest moaned,
     and leaves were laid upon the mould.

     The wind went on from West to East ;
     all movement in the forest ceased,
     but shrill and harsh across the marsh
     its whistling voices were released.

     The grasses hissed, their tassels bent,
     the reeds were rattling-on it went
     o' er shaken pool under heavens cool
     where racing clouds were torn and rent.

     It passed the lonely Mountain bare
     and swept above the dragon's lair :
     there black and dark lay boulders stark
     and flying smoke was in the air.

     It left the world and took its flight
     over the wide seas of the night.
     The moon set sail upon the gale,
     and stars were fanned to leaping light.

     Bilbo began to nod again. Suddenly up stood Gandalf. "It is time for us
to sleep," be said, "--for us, but not I think  for Beorn.  In this hall  we
can rest  sound and  safe, but I warn you all not to  forget what Beorn said
before he left us: you  must not stray outside until the  sun is up, on your
peril."
     Bilbo found that beds had already been laid at the side of the hall, on
a sort  of  raised platform between the pillars and the  outer wall. For him
there was a little mattress  of straw and woollen blankets. He snuggled into
them very gladly, summertime though it was. The  fire burned low and he fell
asleep. Yet in the night he woke: the fire had now sunk to a few embers; the
dwarves and Gandalf were  all asleep, to judge by their breathing; a  splash
of  white  on  the  floor  came from  the  high moon, which was peering down
through the smoke-hole in the roof.
     There was a growling sound outside, and a noise as of some great animal
scuffling at the door. Bilbo .wondered what it was, and  whether it could be
Beorn in enchanted shape, and if he would come in as a bear and kill them.
     He dived under the blankets and hid his head, and fell asleep  again at
last in spite of his fears.
     It was full morning when he awoke. One of the  dwarves had fallen  over
him in the shadows  where he lay, and had rolled down with a  bump from  the
platform on to the floor. It was Bofur, and  he was grumbling about it, when
Bilbo opened his eyes.
     "Get up lazybones," he said, "or there  will  be  no breakfast left for
you."
     Up jumped Bilbo. "Breakfast!" he cried. "Where is breakfast?"
     "Mostly inside us," answered the  other dwarves who were  moving around
the  hall; "but what is  left  is out  on the veranda.  We have  been  about
looking for Beorn ever since the sun got up;  but  there  is  no sign of him
anywhere, though we found breakfast laid as soon as we went out."
     "Where is Gandalf?" asked Bilbo, moving off to find something to eat as
quick as he could.
     "O! out and  about somewhere," they told him. But he saw no sign of the
wizard all that day until the evening. Just before sunset he walked into the
hall,  where the  hobbit  and the dwarves were having supper, waited  on  by
Beorn's  wonderful animals, as they had been all day. Of Beorn they had seen
and heard nothing since the night before, and they were getting puzzled.
     "Where is our host, and where have you been all day yourself?" they all
cried.
     "One  question at  a time-and none till  after supper! I haven't  had a
bite since breakfast."
     At last Gandalf pushed away his plate and jug -- he had eaten two whole
loaves (with masses  of  butter and  honey and clotted  cream) and drunk  at
least a quart of mead and he took out his pipe. "I  will answer  the  second
question first," he said, "-but bless me! this is a splendid place for smoke
rings!"  Indeed for a long time they  could get nothing  more out of him, he
was so  busy sending smoke-rings  dodging round the  pillars  of  the  hall,
changing them into all sorts  of  different  shapes and colours, and setting
them at last chasing one another out of the hole in the roof.
     They must have looked very queer from outside, popping out into the air
one after another, green, blue, red, silver-grey,  yellow, white;  big ones,
little  ones;  little  ones  dodging  through  big  ones  and  joining  into
figure-eights, and going off like a flock of birds into the distance.
     "I  have  been picking out  bear-tracks," he said at  last. "There must
have been a regular bears' meeting outside here last night. I soon saw  that
Beorn  could not have made them all:  there were far  too many  of them, and
they were of various sizes too. I should say there were little  bears, large
bears, ordinary bears, and gigantic big bears, all dancing outside from dark
to nearly dawn. They  came from almost every direction, except from the west
over the  river, from  the  Mountains.  In  that  direction only one  set of
footprints led-none coming, only ones going away from here.
     I followed these as far as the Carrock. There they disappeared into the
river, but the  water  was too  deep and strong beyond  the  rock  for me to
cross.  It is  easy enough,  as  you remember, to get from this  bank to the
Carrock by the ford, but  on the other  side  is  a cliff standing up from a
swirling channel. I had to walk miles before I found a place where the river
was wide and  shallow enough  for me to  wade  and swim, and then miles back
again to pick up the tracks  again.  By that time  it was too late for me to
follow them far. They went straight off  in the direction  of the pine-woods
on the east side of the Misty  Mountains, where we had  our pleasant  little
party with the Wargs the night before last. And now I think I have  answered
your first question, too," ended Gandalf, and he sat a long while silent.
     Bilbo thought he knew  what  the wizard meant. "What  shall we  do," he
cried, "if he leads all the Wargs and the goblins down here? We shall all be
caught and killed! I thought you said he was not 9 friend of theirs."
     "So I did. And don't be silly!  You had better go to bed, your wits are
sleepy."
     The hobbit felt quite crushed, and as  there  seemed nothing else to do
he did go to bed; and  while the dwarves were still singing songs he dropped
asleep, still puzzling his little  head about Beorn, till he dreamed a dream
of hundreds of black bears dancing slow heavy dances round and round  in the
moonlight in  the  courtyard. Then he woke up when everyone else was asleep,
and  he  heard  the  same scraping, scuffling, snuffling,  and  growling  as
before. Next morning they were all wakened by Beorn himself.
     "So here  you all are still!"  he  said.  He  picked up the hobbit  and
laughed: "Not eaten up by Wargs or goblins or  wicked bears yet I see";  and
he  poked  Mr.  Baggins' waistcoat  most disrespectfully.  "Little  bunny is
getting nice and fat again on bread and honey," he chuckled.  "Come and have
some more!"

     So  they  all went  to breakfast  with him.  Beorn was most jolly for a
change; indeed he seemed to be in a splendidly  good humour and set them all
laughing with his funny stories;  nor did they have  to wonder long where he
had been or  why he was  so  nice to them, for  he told them himself. He had
been over the river and right back up  into the mountains-from which you can
guess  that he could travel  quickly, in bear's shape at  any rate. From the
burnt wolf-glade  he had soon found out  that part of their story was  true;
but he had found more than that: he had caught a Warg and a goblin wandering
in  the woods.  From  these he had got news:  the goblin patrols  were still
hunting with Wargs for the dwarves, and they were  fiercely angry because of
the death of the Great Goblin, and also because of the burning of  the chief
wolf's  nose  and  the death from  the wizard's  fire  of  many of his chief
servants. So  much  they told him when he forced them, but he guessed  there
was more  wickedness  than  this afoot,  and that a great  raid of the whole
goblin army with their wolf-allies into the lands shadowed by the  mountains
might soon be made to find the  dwarves, or to take vengeance on the men and
creatures that lived there, and who they thought must be sheltering them.
     "It was a good story, that of yours," said Beorn, "but I like  it still
better  now  I am sure it is true. You must forgive my not taking your word.
If you  lived  near the edge of Mirkwood, you  would take the word of no one
that you did  not know as well  as your brother or better.  As it is, I  can
only say that I have hurried  home as fast as  I could to see that  you were
safe, and to offer you any  help  that  I can. I shall think more  kindly of
dwarves after this. Killed the Great Goblin, killed  the Great  Goblin!"  he
chuckled fiercely to himself.
     "What did you do with the goblin and the Warg?" asked Bilbo suddenly.
     "Come and see!"  said  Beorn, and  they  followed  round  the house.  A
goblin's head  was  stuck outside the gate and a warg-skin was nailed  to  a
tree just beyond. Beorn was a fierce enemy. But now he was their friend, and
Gandalf thought it  wise  to  tell him their whole  story and  the reason of
their journey, so that they could get the most help he could offer.
     This is what he promised  to  do  for them. He would provide ponies for
each of them, and a horse for Gandalf, for their journey to the forest,  and
he would lade them with food to last them for weeks with care, and packed so
as to  be as  easy as  possible to  carry-nuts, flour, sealed  jars of dried
fruits, and  red earthenware pots of honey, and twice-baked cakes that would
keep  good a long  time, and on a little of which they could march  far. The
making of these was one of his secrets; but honey was in them, as in most of
his  foods, and  they were good to eat, though they made one thirsty. Water,
he said, they would not need to carry this side of  the  forest,  for  there
were streams and springs along the road. "But  your way through Mirkwood  is
dark,  dangerous and difficult," he said. "Water is not  easy to find there,
nor food. The time is not yet come for nuts (though it may  be past and gone
indeed before you get to the other side), and nuts are about  all that grows
there fit for food; in there the wild things are dark, queer, and savage.  I
will  provide  you with skins for carrying  water,  and I will give you some
bows and arrows. But I doubt very much whether anything you find in Mirkwood
will be wholesome to  eat or to drink. There is one  stream  there,  I know,
black and strong which  crosses  the path. That you should neither drink of,
nor bathe  in;  for  I  have  heard that it  carries enchantment and a great
drowsiness and forgetfulness. And in the dim shadows  of  that place I don't
think you will  shoot anything,  wholesome  or unwholesome, without straying
from the path. That you MUST NOT do, for any reason. "That is all the advice
I  can give  you.  Beyond the edge of the forest I cannot help you much; you
must depend on your luck and your courage and the  food I send with  you. At
the gate of  the forest I must ask  you to send back my horse and my ponies.
But I wish you all speed, and my house is open to you, if ever you come back
this way again."
     They thanked  him, of  course, with many  bows  and sweepings of  their
hoods and with many an "at your service, O master of the wide wooden halls!"
But  their  spirits  sank  at his grave words, and  they all  felt  that the
adventure  was far more dangerous than they had thought, while all the time,
even if they  passed all the perils of the road, the  dragon was waiting  at
the end.
     All that morning they were busy with preparations.  Soon  after  midday
they ate with Beorn for the last  time, and  after the meal they mounted the
steeds  he was lending them, and bidding  him many farewells they  rode  off
through his gate at a good pace.
     As soon as they left  his high hedges at the east of  his  fenced lands
they turned north and then bore to the north-west.  By  his advice they were
no longer making for the main forest-road to the south of his land. Had they
followed the  pass, their path would  have led them down the stream from the
mountains that joined the  great river miles south of the  Carrock.  At that
point there was a deep ford which they  might have passed, if they had still
had  their ponies, and beyond that a track led to the skirts of the wood and
to the entrance of  the old forest road. But Beorn had warned them that that
way was now often used by the  goblins, while the forest-road itself, he bad
heard, was overgrown and disused  at  the eastern end and led to  impassable
marshes  where the paths had  long been  lost. Its eastern  opening had also
always  been  far to  the south  of the Lonely Mountain, and would have left
them still with a long  and difficult northward march when  they  got to the
other side.
     North of the Carrock the edge of Mirkwood drew closer to the borders of
the Great River, and though here the Mountains too drew  down nearer,  Beorn
advised them to take  this way; for at a place a few days' ride due north of
the Carrock was the gate of a little-known pathway through Mirkwood that led
almost straight towards the Lonely Mountain.
     "The goblins,"  Beorn had said, "will not dare to cross the Great River
for a hundred miles north of the Carrock nor to come  near my house -- it is
well protected at night!-- but I  should ride fast; for if  they make  their
raid soon they will cross the  river to the  south and scour all the edge of
the forest so as to cut  you off, and  Wargs run swifter than ponies.  Still
you are  safer going north, even though you seem to be  going back nearer to
their  strongholds;  for that is what they  will least expect, and they will
have the longer ride to catch you. Be off now as quick as you may!"
     That is why they were now riding  in  silence,  galloping wherever  the
ground was grassy  and smooth, with the mountains dark on their left, and in
the distance the line of the river with its trees  drawing ever closer.  The
sun  had only just turned west when they started, and  till evening  it  lay
golden on the land about them. It was difficult to think of pursuing goblins
behind, and when they had put many miles between them and Beorn's house they
began to talk and to sing again and to forget the  dark forest-path that lay
in front. But in  the  evening  when the  dusk came on  and the peaks of the
mountains glowered against the  sunset they made a camp and set a guard, and
most of  them slept  uneasily with dreams in which  there  came the  howl of
hunting  wolves  and  the  cries of  goblins.  Still the next morning dawned
bright and fair again.
     There was  an autumn-like mist white upon  the ground  and  the air was
chill, but soon the  sun rose red in the East and  the mists  vanished,  and
while the shadows were  still long they were off again. So they rode now for
two more days, and all the while they saw nothing save grass and flowers and
birds and scattered trees, and occasionally small herds of red deer browsing
or sitting at noon in the shade. Sometimes Bilbo saw  the horns of the harts
sticking  up out of the long  grass, and at first he  thought they  were the
dead branches of trees. That third  evening they were so  eager to press on,
for Beorn had said  that they  should  reach the forest-gate  early  on  the
fourth day,  that they  rode still forward  after dusk  and  into the  night
beneath the moon. As the light faded Bilbo thought he saw away to the right,
or  to the left, the shadowy form of a great bear prowling along in the same
direction.  But if he dared  to mention it to Gandalf, the wizard only said:
"Hush! Take no notice!"
     Next day they  started before dawn, though  their night had been short.
As soon as it was light they could see the forest coming  as it were to meet
them, or waiting for them like a black and  frowning  wall before them.  The
land  began to slope up and up,  and it seemed to  the hobbit that a silence
began  to draw  in upon them. Birds  began to sing less.  There were no more
deer; not  even rabbits were to be seen.  By the afternoon they had  reached
the eaves of Mirkwood, and were resting almost beneath the great overhanging
boughs  of its  outer  trees.  Their trunks  were huge  and  gnarled,  their
branches  twisted, their leaves  were dark and long.  Ivy grew  on  them and
trailed along the ground.
     "Well, here is Mirkwood!" said Gandalf. "The greatest of the forests of
the Northern world. I hope you like the  look of it.  Now you must send back
these excellent ponies you have borrowed."
     The dwarves were inclined to grumble at this, but the wizard told  them
they were fools. "Beorn is not as far off as you seem to think, and you  had
better keep your promises anyway,  for he is a bad  enemy. Mr. Baggins' eyes
are sharper than yours, if you have not seen each night after  dark  a great
bear going along with us or sitting far  of in the  moon watching our camps.
Not only to guard you and guide you,  but to  keep an eye on the ponies too.
Beorn  may be your friend, but he  loves his animals as his children. You do
not guess what kindness he has shown you in letting dwarves ride them so far
and  so fast, nor what would  happen to you, if you tried to take  them into
the forest."
     "What  about the horse, then?" said Thorin. "You don't  mention sending
that back."
     "I don't, because I am not sending it."
     "What about your promise then?"
     "I will look  after that. I am not sending the  horse back, I am riding
it!"
     Then they knew that Gandalf was going to leave them at the very edge of
Mirkwood, and they were in despair.
     But nothing they could say would change his mind.
     "Now we had this  all out  before, when we landed  on the Carrock,"  he
said.  "It  is no use arguing. I have, as I told you, some pressing business
away south; and I  am already late through bothering with you people. We may
meet again before all is over,  and then  again of course we  may  not. That
depends on  your  luck and on your courage and  sense; and I am  sending Mr.
Baggins with you. I have told you before that he has more about him than you
guess, and you  will find that out before long. So cheer up  Bilbo and don't
look  so glum. Cheer  up Thorin  and Company! This is your expedition  after
all. Think of the treasure at the end, and forget the forest and the dragon,
at any rate until tomorrow morning!"
     When tomorrow morning came he still said the same.
     So now there was nothing left to do but to fill their water-skins  at a
clear spring  they  found  close to  the forest-gate, and unpack the ponies.
They distributed the packages as fairly as they could, though  Bilbo thought
his lot was wearisomely heavy, and did not at all like  the idea of trudging
for miles and miles with all that on his back.
     "Don't you  worry!"  said  Thorin.  "It will get lighter all too  soon.
Before long  I expect we shall  all wish our packs  heavier,  when the  food
begins to run short."
     Then at last they said good-bye to their ponies and turned their  heads
for home. Off they trotted gaily,  seeming  very  glad to  put  their  tails
towards  the  shadow  of Mirkwood. As they went away Bilbo could have  sworn
that  a thing  like  a  bear left the shadow of the trees and  shambled  off
quickly after them.
     Now Gandalf too  said farewell. Bilbo sat  on the  ground  feeling very
unhappy and wishing he  was beside the wizard on his tall horse. He had gone
just inside the forest after breakfast (a very poor one), and it had  seemed
as dark in  there  in the morning  as at night, and very secret: "a  sort of
watching and waiting feeling," he said to himself.
     "Good-bye!" said Gandalf to Thorin. "And good-bye to you all, good-bye!
Straight through the forest is  your way now.  Don't stray off the track!-if
you  do, it is a thousand to one you will never  find it again and never get
out of Mirkwood; and then  I don't suppose I, or any one else, will ever see
you again."
     "Do we really have to go through?" groaned the hobbit.
     "Yes, you do!" said the  wizard, "if you want to get to the other side.
You  must either  go  through or give up your quest. And I am  not going  to
allow you to back out now,  Mr. Baggins. I am ashamed of you for thinking of
it. You have got to look after all these dwarves for me," he laughed.
     "No! no!" said Bilbo. "I  didn't mean  that. I  meant, is there  no way
round?"
     "There is, if  you care to go  two hundred miles or so  out of your way
north,  and  twice that south. But you  wouldn't get a safe path even  then.
There are no safe paths in this part of the world. Remember you are over the
Edge of the Wild now,  and  in for all sorts of fun wherever you go.  Before
you  could get  round Mirkwood  in  the  North you would  be right among the
slopes  of  the  Grey  Mountains,  and they are  simply stiff  with goblins,
hobgoblins, and rest of the worst description. Before you could get round it
in the South, you would get into the land of the Necromancer; and  even you.
Bilbo,  won't need  me  to tell you tales of that  black sorcerer.  I  don't
advise you  to  go anywhere  near the places overlooked by  his dark  tower!
Stick to the forest-track, keep your spirits up, hope for the best, and with
a tremendous slice of luck you may come out one day and see the Long Marshes
lying  below you,  and beyond them, high  in  the East, the  Lonely Mountain
where dear old Smaug lives, though I hope he is not expecting you."
     "Very comforting you are to be sure," growled Thorin. "Good-bye! If you
won't come with us, you had better get off without any more talk!"
     "Good-bye  then, and really good-bye!" said Gandalf, and he  turned his
horse and rode down into the West. But he could not resist the temptation to
have the last word. Before he  had passed quite out of hearing he turned and
put his hands  to his  mouth and called to  them. They heard  his voice come
faintly:  "Good-bye! Be good, take  care  of yourselves-and DON'T LEAVE  THE
PATH!"
     Then he  galloped  away and was  soon lost to sight. "O good-bye and go
away!"  grunted the  dwarves,  all the more  angry because  they were really
filled with dismay at  losing him. Now began the most dangerous  part of all
the journey.
     They each shouldered the heavy pack and the water-skin  which was their
share, and turned  from  the light that lay on the lands outside and plunged
into the forest.

Chapter 8. Flies and Spiders

     They walked in single file. The entrance to the path was like a sort of
arch  leading  into  a  gloomy tunnel made  by  two great trees  that  leant
together, too  old and strangled with ivy and hung with lichen to bear  more
than a few blackened leaves. The path itself was narrow and wound in and out
among the  trunks. Soon the light at the gate was like a  little bright hole
far behind, and the quiet was  so deep that their feet seemed to thump along
while all the trees leaned over them and listened. As theft eyes became used
to  the  dimness  they  could see a little way  to either  side in a sort of
darkened green glimmer. Occasionally a slender beam of sun that had the luck
to slip in through some opening in the leaves far above, and still more luck
in not being caught in the tangled boughs and matted  twigs beneath, stabbed
down thin and bright  before them.  But this was seldom, and it soon  ceased
altogether.
     There  were black squirrels in the wood. As Bilbo's  sharp  inquisitive
eyes got used to seeing  things he could catch glimpses of them whisking off
the  path and  scuttling behind tree-trunks. There  were  queer noises  too,
grunts,  scufflings,  and hurryings in the undergrowth, and among the leaves
that lay piled endlessly thick  in places on the forest-floor; but what made
the noises he could not see. The nastiest things they  saw were the cobwebs:
dark dense cobwebs with threads extraordinarily thick,  often stretched from
tree to tree, or tangled in the lower branches on either side of them. There
were none stretched  across the path, but whether because some magic kept it
clear, or for what other reason they could not guess.
     It was not long before they grew to hate the forest as heartily as they
had hated the tunnels of the goblins, and it seemed to offer even  less hope
of any ending. But they had to go on and on, long after they were sick for a
sight  of the sun and  of the sky, and longed for the feel of wind on  their
faces.  There was  no movement of air down under the forest-roof, and it was
everlastingly still and dark and stuffy.  Even the dwarves felt it, who were
used to tunnelling, and lived at times  for long whiles without the light of
the sun; but the hobbit, who liked holes to make a house in but not to spend
summer days in, felt he was being slowly suffocated.
     The nights  were the  worst. It then  became pitch-dark -- not what you
call  pitch-dark,  but  really pitch; so  black  that you  really  could see
nothing. Bilbo tried flapping his hand  in front of his nose,  but he  could
not see it  at all. Well, perhaps it is not true to say that they  could see
nothing: they could see  eyes. They slept all closely huddled  together, and
took it in turns to watch; and when it was Bilbo's turn he  would see gleams
in the darkness round them, and sometimes  pairs of yellow or red  or  green
eyes would stare at him from a  little  distance, and then slowly  fade  and
disappear and  slowly shine out again in  another place. And sometimes  they
would gleam  down  from  the  branches just  above him; and  that  was  most
terrifying. But the eyes that he liked the least were horrible pale  bulbous
sort of eyes. "Insect eyes" he thought, "not animal eyes, only they are much
too big."
     Although it  was not  yet very cold, they tried lighting watch-fires at
night,  but they soon gave that up. It seemed to bring hundreds and hundreds
of eyes  all  round them, though  the creatures, whatever  they  were,  were
careful never to let  their bodies show in the little flicker of the flames.
Worse still it  brought thousands of dark-grey and  black moths, some nearly
as big as your hand,  flapping and whirring round their ears. They could not
stand that, nor  the huge bats, black as a top-hat, either;  so they gave up
fires and sat at night and dozed in the enormous uncanny darkness.
     All this went on for  what seemed to the hobbit ages upon  ages; and he
was always  hungry,  for they were  extremely careful with their provisions.
Even so, as days followed days,  and still  the forest seemed just the same,
they began  to get anxious. The food would not last for ever: it was in fact
already beginning to get low. They tried shooting at the squirrels, and they
wasted many arrows before they managed  to  bring one  down on the path. But
when they roasted  it, it  proved  horrible to taste, and they shot  no more
squirrels.
     They were thirsty too, for they had none too much water, and in all the
time they had seen neither  spring nor stream. This was their state when one
day  they found their path  blocked  by a running water. It flowed  fast and
strong but not very wide right across the  way, and it was black,  or looked
it in the gloom. It was well that  Beorn had warned them against it, or they
would have  drunk from it, whatever  its  colour, and filled  some  of their
emptied skins  at its bank. As it was they  only thought of how to cross  it
without  wetting  themselves in its water. There had been a bridge  of  wood
across,  but it had rotted and fallen leaving only the broken posts near the
bank.
     Bilbo kneeling on the brink and peering forward cried: "There is a boat
against the far bank! Now why couldn't it have been this side!"
     "How far away do  you think it  is?" asked Thorin, for by now they knew
Bilbo had the sharpest eyes among them.
     "Not at all far. I shouldn't think above twelve yards."
     "Twelve yards!  I  should  have thought it was thirty at least, but  my
eyes don't see as well  as they used a hundred years ago. Still twelve yards
is as good as a mile. We can't jump it, and we daren't try to wade or swim."
     "Can any of you throw a rope?"
     "What's  the good  of that? The boat is sure to  be tied up, even if we
could hook it, which I doubt."
     "I don't believe it is  tied," said Bilbo, "though of course I can't be
sure in this  light;  but  it looks to me as  if it was just drawn up on the
bank, which is low just there where the path goes down into the water."
     "Dori is the strongest, but Fili is the youngest and still has the best
sight," said  Thorin. "Come here Fili, and see  if you can  see the boat Mr.
Baggins is talking about."
     Fili  thought he could;  so when he had  stared  a long while to get an
idea of the direction, the  others brought him a rope. They had several with
them,  and  on  the end of the longest they  fastened one  of the large iron
hooks they had  used  for  catching their packs to  the  straps  about their
shoulders. Fili took  this  in his hand, balanced it for a moment, and  then
flung it across the stream.
     Splash  it  fell in the water!  "Not  far enough!"  said Bilbo who  was
peering  forward.  "A couple of feet and you would have dropped it on to the
boat.  Try again. I don't suppose the magic is strong enough to hurt you, if
you just touch a bit of wet rope."
     Fili picked up the hook  when  he had  drawn it back, rather doubtfully
all the same. This time he threw it with greater strength.
     "Steady!"  said Bilbo, "you have  thrown it  right into the wood on the
other side now. Draw it back gently." Fili  hauled the rope back slowly, and
after a while Bilbo said:
     "Carefully! It is lying on the boat; let's hope the hook will catch."
     It did. The rope  went taut, and  Fili pulled in vain. Kili came to his
help, and then Oin  and Gloin. They tugged and tugged, and suddenly they all
fell over on their backs.  Bilbo was  on  the lockout, however,  caught  the
rope, and with a piece of stick fended off the  little black boat as it came
rushing across the stream. "Help!" he shouted, and Balin was just in time to
seize the boat before it floated off down the current.
     "It was tied after all," said he, looking  at the snapped  painter that
was  still dangling from it. "That was a good pull, my  lads; and a good job
that our rope was the stronger."
     "Who'll cross first?" asked Bilbo.
     "I shall," said Thorin, "and you will come with me, and Fili and Balin.
That's as many as the boat will hold at a time.  After that Kili and Oin and
Gloin  and  Don;  next  On and Nori, Bifur  and Bofur; and last  Dwalin  and
Bombur."
     "I'm  always last and I  don't  like  it," said  Bombur. "It's somebody
else's turn today."
     "You should  not be  so fat. As you are, you must  be with the last and
lightest  boatload. Don't  start grumbling against orders,  or something bad
will happen to you."
     "There aren't any oars. How are you going to push the boat  back to the
far bank?" asked the hobbit.
     "Give me another length of rope and another hook,"  said Fili, and when
they  had got  it ready, he cast into the darkness ahead and as high  as  he
could throw it. Since it did not fall down again, they saw that it must have
stuck in the branches. "Get  in now," said Fili, "and one of you haul on the
rope that is stuck in a tree on the other  side. One of the others must keep
hold of the hook we used at first, and when we are safe on the other side he
can hook it on, and you can draw the boat back."
     In  this way  they  were  all  soon  on  the far bank safe  across  the
enchanted stream. Dwalin had just scrambled out with the coiled rope  on his
arm,  and  Bombur  (still  grumbling)  was  getting ready  to  follow,  when
something bad did happen. There  was a flying sound of hooves  on  the  path
ahead. Out of the gloom came suddenly the shape of a flying deer. It charged
into the dwarves and bowled them over, then gathered itself for a leap. High
it sprang and cleared the water with a mighty jump. But it did not reach the
other  side in safety. Thorin was the only one who had kept his feet and his
wits. As soon as they had landed he had  bent his bow and fitted an arrow in
case any hidden guardian  of the boat appeared. Now he sent a swift and sure
shot into the leaping beast. As it reached the further bank it stumbled. The
shadows swallowed it up,  but  they heard the sound of hooves quickly falter
and then go still.
     Before they could shout in praise of the shot, however, a dreadful wail
from Bilbo put  all thoughts of  venison out of  their  minds.  "Bombur  has
fallen in!  Bombur is drowning!" he cried. It was only too true. Bombur  had
only one foot on the  land  when the hart bore down on  him, and sprang over
him. He  had  stumbled,  thrusting the boat  away  from the  bank, and  then
toppled back into the dark water, his hands  slipping off the slimy roots at
the edge, while the boat span slowly off and disappeared.
     They  could still  see his  hood  above the water when they ran  to the
bank. Quickly they flung a rope with a hook towards him. His hand caught it,
and  they pulled  him to the shore. He  was drenched  from hair to boots, of
course, but that was not  the worst. When they laid him on  the bank he  was
already  fast  asleep, with one hand  clutching  the rope so tight that they
could not get it from his grasp; and fast asleep he remained in spite of all
they could  do. They  were still standing over him, cursing their  ill luck,
and Bombur's clumsiness, and lamenting  the loss of the boat  which  made it
impossible for them to go back and look for the hart, when they became aware
of the dim blowing of horns in the wood and the sound as of  dogs baying far
off. Then they all  fell silent; and as they  sat it seemed they  could hear
the noise of a great hunt going by to the north of the path, though they saw
no sign  of it. There they sat  for a long while and did  not dare to make a
move. Bombur slept on with a smile on his fat face, as if he no longer cared
for all the troubles that vexed them.
     Suddenly  on the path ahead appeared some white deer, a hind and  fawns
as  snowy  white as the hart had  been  dark. They glimmered in the shadows.
Before Thorin could cry  out three of  the dwarves had leaped  to their feet
and loosed off arrows from  their bows.  None seemed to find their mark. The
deer turned and vanished  in the trees as silently as they had come,  and in
vain the dwarves shot their arrows after them.
     "Stop! stop!" shouted Thorin; but it was too late, the  excited dwarves
had wasted  their last arrows, and  now the bows that  Beorn had given  them
were useless.
     They  were  a gloomy party  that  night, and the gloom  gathered  still
deeper on them in the following days. They had crossed the enchanted stream;
but beyond  it the path  seemed to straggle on  just as  before, and  in the
forest  they  could see no change. Yet if they had  known more about  it and
considered the meaning of the hunt and the white deer that had appeared upon
their path, they would have known that they were at last drawing towards the
eastern edge, and  would  soon  have come, if they  could have kept up their
courage and their hope, to thinner trees and places  where the sunlight came
again.
     But they did  not know this, and they were burdened with the heavy body
of  Bombur,  which they had  to carry along  with them  as best  they could,
taking the wearisome  task  in turns of four  each while  the others  shared
their packs.  If these had  not become all  too light in the last few  days,
they would never have managed it; but a  slumbering and smiling Bombur was a
poor exchange for packs filled with food however heavy. In a few days a time
came when there  was practically nothing  left to  eat or to  drink. Nothing
wholesome could they see growing in the  woods, only funguses and herbs with
pale leaves and unpleasant smell.
     About four days from  the  enchanted  stream they came to a  part where
most of the trees were beeches. They were at first inclined to be cheered by
the change,  for  here there was  no undergrowth and the shadow  was  not so
deep. There was a  greenish light about them, and in places  they  could see
some distance to either  side of the path.  Yet the light  only showed  them
endless lines of straight grey trunks like the pillars of some huge twilight
hall. There was a breath of air and a noise of wind, but it had a sad sound.
A  few leaves  came  rustling down  to remind them  that outside autumn  was
coming  on. Their  feet ruffled among the  dead leaves  of  countless  other
autumns that drifted over the banks of the path from the deep red carpets of
the forest.
     Still  Bombur  slept  and  they grew very weary.  At times  they  heard
disquieting laughter. Sometimes there  was singing in the distance  too. The
laughter was the laughter of fair voices not of goblins, and the singing was
beautiful, but it sounded eerie and  strange, and  they were  not comforted,
rather they hurried on from those parts with what strength they had left.
     Two days later they  found their path  going downwards and  before long
they were in a valley filled almost entirely with a mighty growth of oaks.
     "Is there no end to this accursed forest?" said Thorin.
     "Somebody must  climb a  tree  and see if he can get his head above the
roof  and have a look round. The only way is to choose the tallest tree that
overhangs the path."
     Of course "somebody" meant Bilbo.  They chose him  because to be of any
use the  climber must get his head  above the topmost leaves, and so he must
be  light enough  for  the highest and slenderest branches to bear him. Poor
Mr. Baggins had never had much practice in climbing trees, but  they hoisted
him up into the lowest branches of an enormous oak that grew right  out into
the  path, and  up  he had to go as best he could. He pushed his way through
the tangled twigs with many a  slap in  the eye; he was  greened and  grimed
from the  old  bark of  the  greater boughs; more  than once he  slipped and
caught  himself  just  in time; and at last, after a dreadful struggle in  a
difficult  place where there seemed to be no convenient branches at  all, he
got near the top.  All the  time he was wondering whether there were spiders
in the tree, and how he was going to get down again (except by falling).
     In  the end he  poked  his head above the  roof of  leaves, and then he
found spiders all right. But they were only small ones of ordinary size, and
they  were after  the butterflies. Bilbo's eyes were  nearly  blinded by the
light. He could hear the  dwarves shouting up at him from far  below, but he
could not answer, only hold on  and  blink. The sun was shining brilliantly,
and  it was a long while before he could bear it. When he could,  he saw all
round  him a sea of  dark green, ruffled  here and there by the breeze;  and
there were  everywhere hundreds of butterflies. I expect they were a kind of
'purple  emperor,' a butterfly that loves the tops of  oak-woods,  but these
were not  purple at  all, they  were a  dark dark velvety black without  any
markings to be seen.
     He looked at the 'black emperors' for a long time, and enjoyed the feel
of the  breeze in his hair and  on his face; but at length the  cries of the
dwarves, who were now simply stamping with  impatience  down below, reminded
him of his real business. It was no good. Gaze as much as he might, he could
see no end to the trees and the leaves in any direction. His heart, that had
been lightened by the  sight of the sun and the feel of the  wind, sank back
into his toes: there was no food to go back to down below.
     Actually, as I have told  you, they  were not  far off the edge  of the
forest; and if  Bilbo  had  had the  sense to  see it,  the tree that he had
climbed,  though it  was tall in itself, was standing  near the  bottom of a
wide  valley, so that  from its  top the trees seemed to  swell up all round
like  the edges of a great  bowl, and he could not expect to see how far the
forest  lasted. Still  he  did not  see this, and he  climbed  down full  of
despair. He got to the bottom  again at last scratched, hot,  and miserable,
and he  could not see anything in the gloom  below  when  he got there.  His
report soon made the others as miserable as he was.
     "The forest goes  on  for  ever  and ever and ever in  all  directions!
Whatever shall we do? And what is the use of  sending a hobbit!" they cried,
as if  it was his fault. They did  not care tuppence about  the butterflies,
and were only made  more angry  when he  told  them of the beautiful breeze,
which they were too heavy to climb up and feel.

     That night they ate their very last scraps and crumbs of food; and next
morning when they woke the first thing they noticed was that they were still
gnawingly hungry, and the next thing was that it  was  raining and that here
and there the drip of it was dropping heavily on the forest floor. That only
reminded them that they were also parchingly thirsty, without doing anything
to relieve them: you cannot quench a terrible thirst by standing under giant
oaks and waiting for a chance drip to fall on your tongue. The only scrap of
comfort there was, came unexpectedly from Bombur.
     He woke up suddenly  and  sat up scratching his head. He could not make
out  where he was  at all, nor why he felt so  hungry; for  he had forgotten
everything  that had  happened since they started  their  journey  that  May
morning long ago. The  last thing  that he remembered was  the party at  the
hobbit's  house, and  they had  great difficulty in making him believe their
tale of all the many adventures they had had since.
     When he heard that there was nothing to eat, he sat  down and wept, for
he felt very weak and  wobbly in  the  legs.  "Why ever did  I wake  up!" he
cried. "I was having such beautiful dreams. I  dreamed  I  was walking in  a
forest rather like  this one, only lit  with  torches on the trees and lamps
swinging from the branches and  fires burning on the ground; and there was a
great feast going on, going on  for ever. A woodland  king was there  with a
crown of leaves,  and there  was a merry singing, and  I could  not count or
describe the things there were to eat and drink."
     "You need  not  try," said  Thorin. "In fact if  you  can't  talk about
something  else, you had better  be silent. We are quite annoyed enough with
you  as it  is. If you  hadn't waked  up,  we should have left you  to  your
idiotic dreams in the forest; you are  no joke to carry even  after weeks of
short commons."
     There was nothing now to  be done but to tighten the belts round  their
empty stomachs, and hoist their empty sacks and  packs, and trudge along the
track without any great hope of ever getting to the end before they lay down
and died  of starvation. This they did all  that day, going very slowly  and
wearily,  while Bombur kept on wailing that his legs would not carry him and
that he wanted to lie down and sleep.
     "No you don't!"  they said.  "Let your  legs  take their share, we have
carried you far enough."
     All the same he suddenly refused to go a step further and flung himself
on the ground. "Go on,  if you must," he said.  "I'm just going  to lie here
and sleep and dream of food, if I can't get it any other way. I hope I never
wake up again."
     At that  very  moment Balin, who  was a little  way ahead, called  out:
"What was that? I thought I saw a twinkle of light in the forest."
     They all  looked, and  a  longish way off, it  seemed,  they saw a  red
twinkle in  the  dark; then another  and  another sprang out beside it. Even
Bombur got  up, and they hurried along then, not caring if  it was trolls or
goblins. The  light was in front of  them and to  the left of the path,  and
when at last they had  drawn level with it, it seemed plain that torches and
fires were burning under the trees, but a good way off their track.
     "It looks as if my dreams were coming true,"  gasped Bombur puffing  up
behind. He wanted to rush  straight  off into the wood after the lights. But
the others remembered only too well the warnings of the wizard and of Beorn.
"A feast would be no good, if we never got back alive from it," said Thorin.
     "But without a feast we  shan't  remain alive much longer anyway," said
Bombur,  and  Bilbo heartily agreed with him. They argued about it backwards
and  forwards for  a long while, until  they agreed at length to send  out a
couple  of spies, to creep near the lights and find out more about them. But
then  they could not agree on  who was to be sent: no  one seemed anxious to
run the chance  of being lost and never finding  his friends again.  In  the
end, in  spite  of warnings,  hunger decided  them, because  Bombur kept  on
describing  all  the good things that  were being  eaten, according  to  his
dream, in the woodland feast; so they all left the path and plunged into the
forest together.
     After a good deal of creeping and crawling they peered round the trunks
and  looked into a clearing where some trees had been felled  and the ground
levelled. There were many people there, elvish-looking folk, all  dressed in
green and brown and sitting  on sawn rings of  the felled  trees in  a great
circle. There  was a  fire in their midst and there were torches fastened to
some  of the  trees round about;  but most splendid sight  of all: they were
eating and drinking and laughing merrily.
     The smell of the roast meats was so enchanting that, without waiting to
consult  one another,  every one of  them got up and scrambled forwards into
the ring with the one idea of begging for some food. No sooner had the first
stepped  into  the clearing than all the  lights went  out  as  if by magic.
Somebody kicked the fire and it went up in rockets of glittering sparks  and
vanished. They were  lost in a completely lightless  dark and they could not
even find one another,  not for a  long  time at any  rate. After blundering
frantically in the gloom, falling over  logs, bumping crash into trees,  and
shouting and calling till they  must have waked everything in the forest for
miles, at last  they managed  to  gather themselves  in a  bundle and  count
themselves  by  touch. By  that time they had, of course, quite forgotten in
what direction  the path  lay, and they were all hopelessly lost,  at  least
till morning.
     There was nothing  for it but to  settle down for the night where  they
were; they did not even  dare to search on the ground for scraps of food for
fear  of  becoming separated  again. But they had not been  lying  long, and
Bilbo was only just  getting drowsy, when Dori,  whose turn it was  to watch
first, said in a loud whisper:
     "The lights  are coming out again  over there, and there  are more than
ever of them."
     Up they  all  jumped. There, sure enough, not  far away were  scores of
twinkling lights, and they heard the voices  and the laughter quite plainly.
They crept slowly towards them, in a single line, each touching the  back of
the one  in front. When they got near  Thorin said: "No rushing forward this
time!  No  one is to  stir from hiding till I  say. I shall send Mr. Baggins
alone first to talk to them. They won't be frightened of him-('What about me
of them?' thought Bilbo)-and any way I hope they won't do  anything nasty to
him."
     When they  got  to the  edge of the circle of lights  they pushed Bilbo
suddenly from  behind. Before he had time to slip on his  ring, he  stumbled
forward  into the full  blaze  of the fire and torches. It was no  good. Out
went  all  the lights  again and  complete  darkness fell.  If it  had  been
difficult collecting themselves before, it was far worse this time. And they
simply could not find the hobbit. Every time they counted themselves it only
made thirteen. They shouted and called:  "Bilbo Baggins! Hobbit! You dratted
hobbit! Hi!  hobbit,  confusticate  you, where are you?" and other things of
that sort, but there was no answer.
     They were just giving  up hope, when Dori stumbled across him by  sheer
luck.  In the dark he fell over what  he thought was a log, and he  found it
was the hobbit curled up fast asleep. It took a deal of shaking to wake him,
and when he was awake he was not pleased at all.
     "I was having such a lovely dream,"  he grumbled, "all about  having  a
most gorgeous dinner."
     "Good heavens! he  has  gone like Bombur," they  said. "Don't  tell  us
about dreams. Dream-dinners aren't any good, and we can't share them."
     "They  are the  best  I  am likely to get  in this beastly  place,"  he
muttered,  as he lay  down beside the dwarves and tried to  go back to sleep
and  find his dream again. But that  was not the last  of the lights  in the
forest. Later  when  the  night  must have been  getting old, Kili  who  was
watching then, came and roused them all again, saying:
     "There's a regular  blaze of light  begun not far away  -- hundreds  of
torches and many fires must have been lit suddenly and by magic. And hark to
the singing and the harps!"
     After lying and listening for a while, they found they could not resist
the desire to  go nearer and try once more to get help.  Up  they got again;
and  this  time the  result was disastrous. The feast that they now saw  was
greater and more magnificent than before; and at the head  of a long line of
feasters sat a woodland king  with a  crown of  leaves upon his golden hair,
very much  as Bombur had described the  figure in his dream. The elvish folk
were  passing bowls from hand to hand and  across the  fires,  and some were
harping and many were singing. Their  gloaming hair was twined with flowers;
green and  white gems  glinted on their collars  and their belts; and  their
faces  and their songs were  filled with mirth. Loud and clear and fair were
those songs, and out stepped Thorin into their midst.
     Dead silence  fell  in the middle of  a  word. Out went  all light. The
fires leaped up in black smokes. Ashes and  cinders were  in the eyes of the
dwarves,  and the wood was  filled again with their clamour and their cries.
Bilbo found himself running round and round (as  he thought) and calling and
calling:  "Dori,  Nori,  Ori, Oin,  Gloin, Fili, Kili, Bombur, Bifur, Bofur,
Dwalin, Balin, Thorin Oakenshield," while people he  could  not  see or feel
were doing the same  all round him (with an occasional "Bilbo!"  thrown in).
But the cries  of the others got  steadily further  and fainter,  and though
after a while it seemed to  him they changed to yells and cries  for help in
the far distance, all noise at last  died right away, and he  was left alone
in complete silence and darkness.

     That was  one of his most miserable moments. But  he  soon made  up his
mind that  it  was no good  trying to do anything till  day  came with  some
little light, and quite useless  to go blundering  about tiring himself  out
with no hope of any breakfast to revive him. So he sat himself down with his
back  to a  tree,  and not  for  the  last  time  fell  to thinking  of  his
far-distant hobbit-hole with its beautiful pantries. He was deep in thoughts
of bacon and eggs and  toast  and butter when he  felt something touch  him.
Something like a strong sticky string was against his left hand, and when he
tried to move he found that his legs were already wrapped in the same stuff,
so that when he got up he fell over.
     Then the great spider, who had been busy  tying him up while  he dozed,
came from behind him and  came at him.  He could only see the things's eyes,
but he could  feel its hairy  legs as  it  struggled to  wind its abominable
threads round and round him. It was  lucky that he had come to his senses in
time. Soon he would not have  been able to move at all. As it was, he  had a
desperate fight  before he  got  free.  He beat  the creature  off with  his
hands-it was trying  to poison him to keep him quiet, as small spiders do to
flies-until he remembered his sword and drew it out. Then the  spider jumped
back, and he had  time to cut his legs loose. After that it was his turn  to
attack. The spider evidently was not used to things that carried such stings
at their  sides, or it would  have hurried away  quicker. Bilbo  came at  it
before  it could disappear  and struck it with his  sword right in the eyes.
Then  it went mad  and leaped and danced and flung out its  legs in horrible
jerks, until  he killed it with another  stroke; and then  he  fell down and
remembered nothing more for a long while.
     There was the usual dim grey light of  the forest-day about him when he
came to his senses. The spider lay dead beside him,  and his sword-blade was
stained black. Somehow the killing of the giant spider, all alone by himself
in the dark without the help of the wizard or the dwarves or of anyone else,
made a great difference to Mr. Baggins. He felt a different person, and much
fiercer and bolder in spite of an  empty stomach, as  he wiped his sword  on
the grass and put it back into its sheath.
     "I will give you a name," he said to it, "and I shall call you Sting."
     After that he set out  to explore. The forest was  grim and silent, but
obviously he had first of all to look for his  friends, who  were not likely
to  be very far off, unless  they  had been made prisoners by the elves  (or
worse things).
     Bilbo  felt that it  was  unsafe  to  shout,  and he stood a long while
wondering in what direction the path lay, and in what direction he should go
first to look for the  dwarves. "O! why did we not remember  Beorn's advice,
and Gandalf's!" he lamented. "What a mess we are in  now! We! I only wish it
was we: it is horrible being all alone."
     In the  end he  made as good a guess as he could at the direction  from
which the cries for help  had come in the night --  and by luck (he was born
with a good share of  it) be  guessed more  or less right, as you will  see.
Having made  up his mind he crept along as cleverly as he could. Hobbits are
clever at quietness, especially in woods, as 1. have already told you;  also
Bilbo had slipped on  his ring before he started. That  is  why  the spiders
neither saw nor heard him coming.
     He had picked his way stealthily  'for some distance, when he noticed a
place  of dense black shadow ahead of him black even for that forest, like a
patch of midnight  that had  never been cleared  away. As he drew nearer, he
saw  that it  was made  by spider-webs one behind and over  and tangled with
another.  Suddenly he  saw,  too, that there were  spiders huge and horrible
sitting in the branches above him, and ring or no ring he trembled with fear
lest they should discover  him. Standing behind a tree he watched a group of
them  for some time,  and then in  the silence and stillness of the  wood he
realised that these loathsome creatures were speaking one  to another. Their
voices were  a sort of thin creaking and hissing, but he could make out many
of the words that they said. They were talking about the dwarves!
     "It was a  sharp  struggle, but worth it,"  said one. "What nasty thick
skins they have to be sure, but I'll wager there is good juice inside."
     "Aye, they'll make fine eating, when they've hung a bit," said another.
     "Don't hang 'em too long,"  said  a third. "They're  not as fat as they
might be. Been feeding none too well of late, I should guess."
     "Kill'em, I say," hissed a  fourth; "kill 'em now and hang 'em dead for
a while."
     "They're dead now, I'll warrant," said the first.
     "That they are not. I  saw one a-struggling just now. Just coming round
again, I should say, after a bee-autiful sleep. I'll show you."
     With that one of the fat spiders  ran along a  rope, till it  came to a
dozen bundles hanging in a row from a high branch. Bilbo was horrified,  now
that he noticed them for  the first time dangling in  the  shadows, to see a
dwarvish foot  sticking out of the bottoms  of some of  the bundles, or here
and there the tip of a nose, or a bit of beard or of a hood.
     To  the  fattest of  these bundles  the spider  went--"It is  poor  old
Bombur, I'll bet," thought Bilbo -- and  nipped hard at the nose  that stuck
out. There  was a  muffled  yelp inside,  and a toe shot up and  kicked  the
spider straight and hard. There was life in Bombur  still. There was a noise
like  the kicking of a flabby football,  and the enraged spider fell off the
branch, only catching itself with its own thread just in time.
     The  others laughed. "You  were  quite right,"  they said, "the  meat's
alive and kicking!" "
     "I'll soon put an  end to that," hissed  the angry spider climbing back
onto the branch.
     Bilbo saw that the moment had come when he must do  something. He could
not get up at the brutes and he had nothing to shoot with; but looking about
he  saw that in this place there were many stones lying  in what appeared to
be a now dry little watercourse. Bilbo was a pretty fair  shot with a stone,
and  it did not  take him long to  find  a nice smooth  egg-shaped  one that
fitted his hand cosily.
     As a boy he used to practise throwing stones at  things, until  rabbits
and squirrels, and even birds, got out  of his way as quick as  lightning if
they saw  him stoop; and even grownup he had still spent a deal  of his time
at quoits, dart-throwing, shooting  at the wand, bowls, ninepins  and  other
quiet games of  the  aiming  and  throwing  sort-indeed he could do lots  of
things, besides blowing  smoke-rings,  asking  riddles and  cooking, that  I
haven't  had time to tell you  about. There  is no  time  now.  While he was
picking up stones, the spider had  reached  Bombur,  and soon he  would have
been dead. At that moment Bilbo threw.  The stone struck the spider plunk on
the head, and  it dropped senseless off  the tree, flop  to the ground, with
all its legs curled up.
     The next stone went whizzing through a big web, snapping its cords, and
taking off the spider sitting in the middle of  it, whack,  dead. After that
there  was a deal  of  commotion in the spider-colony, and they  forgot  the
dwarves for a  bit, I can tell you. They could not see Bilbo, but they could
make a good guess at  the direction from  which  the stones were  coming. As
quick as  lightning they  came  running and  swinging  towards  the  hobbit,
flinging out  their long threads in all directions, till the air seemed full
of waving snares. Bilbo, however, soon  slipped away  to  a different place.
The idea came to him to  lead the furious spiders  further and  further away
from the dwarves, if he could;  to make  them curious, excited and angry all
at once. When about  fifty  had  gone  off  to the  place where he had stood
before,  he threw some more stones at these,  and at others that had stopped
behind; then dancing among the trees  he began  to sing  a song to infuriate
them and bring  them  all after him, and also  to  let the dwarves  hear his
voice.
     This is what he sang:

     Old fat spider spinning in a tree!
     Old fat spider can't see me!
     Attercop! Attercop!
     Won't you stop,
     Stop your spinning and look for me!

     Old Tomnoddy, all big body,
     Old Tomnoddy can't spy me!
     Attercop! Attercop!
     Down you drop!
     You'll never catch me up your tree!

     Not very  good perhaps, but then you  must remember that he had to make
it up himself, on the spur of a  very awkward moment. It did what  he wanted
any way. As he sang he threw  some more stones and stamped.  Practically all
the spiders in the place came after him: some dropped to the ground,  others
raced along the branches, swung from tree to tree, or cast new ropes  across
the dark  spaces. They made for his noise  far quicker than he had expected.
They were frightfully angry.  Quite apart from the stones no spider has ever
liked being called Attercop, and Tomnoddy of course is insulting to anybody.
     Off Bilbo scuttled to a fresh place, but several of the spiders had run
now  to different points  in  the  glade where they  lived,  and  were  busy
spinning webs across all  the spaces between the  tree-stems.  Very soon the
hobbit would be caught in a thick fence of them all round  him-that at least
was  the  spiders'  idea.  Standing  now  in the  middle of the hunting  and
spinning insects Bilbo plucked up his courage and began a new song:

     Lazy Lob and crazy Cob
     are weaving webs to wind me.
     I am far more sweet than other meat,
     but still they cannot find me!

     Here am I, naughty little fly;
     you are fat and lazy.
     You cannot trap me, though you try,
     in your cobwebs crazy.

     With that  he  turned and  found that the  last space  between two tall
trees had been closed with a web-but  luckily not a  proper web, only  great
strands of double-thick spider-rope  run hastily backwards and forwards from
trunk to trunk. Out came his little' sword. He slashed the threads to pieces
and went off singing.
     The  spiders  saw the sword, though I don't suppose they  knew  what it
was, and at once the whole lot  of them came hurrying after the hobbit along
the  ground  and the  branches, hairy  legs  waving,  nippers  and  spinners
snapping, eyes  popping, full of froth and rage.  They followed him into the
forest until Bilbo had gone as far as he dared.
     Then  quieter than a mouse he stole back. He  had precious little time,
he knew, before the spiders were disgusted  and  came  back  to  their trees
where  the dwarves were  hung. In the meanwhile he  had to rescue them.  The
worst part of the job was getting up on to the long branch where the bundles
were dangling. I don't suppose he would have managed it, if a spider had not
luckily left a rope hanging down; with its help, though it stuck to his hand
and hurt  him, he  scrambled up-only to meet an old  slow  wicked fat-bodied
spider  who had remained  behind to guard the prisoners,  and had  been busy
pinching  them  to see which  was the juiciest  to eat.  It  had thought  of
starting the  feast  while the others were away, but  Mr.  Baggins was in  a
hurry, and before the spider knew  what was happening it felt his  sting and
rolled off the branch dead. Bilbo's next job was to loose a dwarf.  What was
he to do? If he cut the string which hung him  up, the wretched  dwarf would
tumble  thump  to the  ground a good way below. Wriggling  along  the branch
(which  made  all the  poor  dwarves  dance  and  dangle like ripe fruit) he
reached the first bundle.
     "Fili or  Kili," he thought  by  the tip of a blue hood sticking out at
the top. "Most likely Fili," he thought by the tip of a long nose poking out
of the winding threads. He managed by leaning over to cut most of the strong
sticky threads that bound him round,  and then, sure enough, with a kick and
a struggle most of Fili emerged.  I am afraid Bilbo actually  laughed at the
sight of  him  jerking  his  stiff  arms  and  legs  as  he  danced  on  the
spider-string  under his armpits,  just like one of those funny toys bobbing
on a wire.
     Somehow  or  other Fili  was got on to the branch,  and then he did his
best to  help the hobbit, although he was  feeling  very sick  and  ill from
spider-poison, and from hanging most of  the  night and  the next  day wound
round and  round with only his nose to breathe through. It took him ages  to
get the beastly stuff out of his eyes and eyebrows, and as for his beard, he
had to cut most of it off.  Well, between them they started to haul up first
one dwarf and then another and slash them free. None of them were better off
than Fili, and some of them were worse. Some had hardly been able to breathe
at all (long noses are  sometimes useful you  see),  and  some had been more
poisoned.
     In this  way they rescued  Kili,  Bifur,  Bofur, Don and Nori. Poor old
Bombur was so  exhausted-he was the fattest  and had been constantly pinched
and poked-that he just rolled off the branch and fell plop on to the ground,
fortunately on to leaves, and  lay there.  But there were still five dwarves
hanging at the end of the branch when  the spiders began to come  back, more
full of rage  than ever. Bilbo  immediately went  to the  end  of the branch
nearest the tree-trunk and kept back those that crawled up. He had taken off
his ring  when he rescued Fili and forgotten to put it on again, so now they
all began to splutter and hiss:
     "Now we  see  you, you nasty little creature! We will eat you and leave
your bones and  skin hanging on  a tree. Ugh! he's got a sting has he? Well,
we'll get him all the same, and then we'll hang him head downwards for a day
or two."
     While this was going on, the other dwarves were working  at the rest of
the captives,  and cutting at the threads with their knives. Soon all  would
be  free,  though it was not clear what would happen after that. The spiders
had caught them pretty easily the night before, but that  had  been unawares
and in the dark. This time there looked like being a horrible battle.
     Suddenly Bilbo noticed that some of the spiders had gathered round  old
Bombur  on the floor, and had tied him up again and were  dragging him away.
He gave  a shout and slashed  at  the spiders in  front of him. They quickly
gave way, and he scrambled and fell  down the tree right into the  middle of
those on the ground. His little sword was something new in the way of stings
for them. How  it darted to and fro! It shone  with delight as he stabbed at
them. Half a dozen were killed before  the  rest drew off and left Bombur to
Bilbo.
     "Come down! Come down!" he shouted to the dwarves on the branch. "Don't
stay  up there and  be  netted!" For  he  saw  spiders  swarming  up all the
neighboring  trees, and  crawling  along the boughs above the heads  of  the
dwarves.
     Down the dwarves scrambled or jumped or dropped, eleven all in a  heap,
most of them very  shaky and little  use on  their legs. There they  were at
last, twelve of them counting poor old  Bombur, who was being propped up  on
either side  by  his  cousin  Bifur,  and his brother  Bofur; and Bilbo  was
dancing  about  and  waving his Sting; and hundreds  of  angry  spiders were
goggling at them all round and about and above. It looked pretty hopeless.
     Then the  battle  began. Some  of the dwarves had knives,  and some had
sticks,  and all of  them  could get at  stones; and  Bilbo  had his  elvish
dagger.  Again and again the spiders were beaten off,  and many of them were
killed. But  it could not go on  for long. Bilbo was nearly tired out;  only
four of the dwarves were able  to stand firmly,  and  soon they would all be
overpowered like weary  flies.  Already the spiders were beginning to  weave
their webs all  round them  again from  tree to tree. In the end Bilbo could
think of no plan except to let the dwarves into the  secret of his ring.  He
was rather sorry about it, but it could not be helped.
     "I am going to disappear," he said. "I shall draw the spiders off, if I
can; and you must keep  together and  make in the opposite direction. To the
left there, that is more or less the way towards the place where we last saw
the elf-fires."
     It  was difficult to  get them to  understand, what  with  their  dizzy
heads,  and  the  shouts,  and the whacking  of  sticks  and the throwing of
stones; but  at  last  Bilbo felt he  could delay no longer-the spiders were
drawing their circle ever closer. He  suddenly slipped on his  ring,  and to
the great astonishment of the dwarves he vanished.
     Soon there came the sound  of "Lazy Lob"  and "Attercop" from among the
trees  away on the right.  That  upset  the  spiders  greatly.  They stopped
advancing, and some, went off in the direction of the voice. "Attercop" made
them so angry that they lost their wits. Then Balin, who had grasped Bilbo's
plan better than the rest, led an attack. The dwarves huddled together in  a
knot, and sending a shower of stones they  drove at the spiders on the left,
and burst  through  the ring. Away behind them now  the shouting and singing
suddenly stopped.
     Hoping desperately that Bilbo had not  been caught the dwarves went on.
Not fast  enough, though. They  were  sick and  weary, and they could not go
much  better than  a  hobble and a wobble, though  many of the  spiders were
close  behind.  Every now and then they had to  turn and fight the creatures
that were  overtaking them and  already some spiders were in the trees above
them and throwing down their long clinging threads.
     Things were looking pretty bad again, when suddenly Bilbo appeared  and
charged into the astonished spiders unexpectedly from the side.
     "Go on! Go on!" he shouted.  "I will do the  stinging!" And he  did. He
darted backwards and forwards, slashing  at spider-threads, hacking at their
legs, and  stabbing at their fat  bodies if they came too near.  The spiders
swelled with  rage,  and spluttered  and frothed,  and  hissed out  horrible
curses;  but they had  become mortally afraid  of Sting,  and dared not come
very  near, now that it had come back. So curse as  they  would, their  prey
moved slowly but steadily away. It was a  most terrible business, and seemed
to  take hours. But at last, just when Bilbo felt that he could not lift his
hand for a single stroke more, the spiders suddenly gave it up, and followed
them no more, but went back disappointed to their dark colony.
     The dwarves then noticed that they had come to the edge of a ring where
elf-fires  had  been.  Whether it was one of  those they  had seen the night
before, they could not tell. But it seemed  that some good magic lingered in
such spots, which  the spiders did not like.  At any rate here the light was
greener, and the boughs less thick and threatening, and they had a chance to
rest and draw breath.
     There they  lay for some  time, puffing and panting. put very soon they
began  to  ask questions.  They  had  to have the  whole vanishing  business
carefully  explained, and the finding  of  the ring interested them so  much
that  for  a  while  they forgot  their  own troubles.  Balin  in particular
insisted on having the  Gollum story, riddles and all, told all over  again,
with the ring in its proper place. But after a time the light began to fail,
and then other questions were asked. Where were  they,  and where  was their
path, and  where  was  there  any food, and what were they going to do next?
These questions they asked over and over again, and it was from little Bilbo
that they seemed to expect to get  the answers. From which you  can see that
they had changed their  opinion of Mr. Baggins very  much, and had  begun to
have a great respect for him  (as Gandalf had said they would). Indeed  they
really  expected  him to think of some  wonderful plan for helping them, and
were not merely grumbling. They knew only too well that they would  soon all
have been dead, if it had not been for the hobbit; and they thanked him many
times. Some  of them even got up  and bowed right  to the ground before him,
though they fell over with the effort, and could not get on their legs again
for  some time.  Knowing the truth  about the vanishing did not lessen their
opinion of Bilbo at all; for they saw that he had some wits, as well as luck
and a magic  ring-and all three are  very useful possessions. In  fact  they
praised him so much that Bilbo began to feel there really was something of a
bold adventurer  about himself after all,  though he I would have felt a lot
bolder still, if there had been anything to eat.
     But there  was nothing, nothing at all; and none of them Were fit to go
and look  for anything, or to search  for the  lost path. The lost path!  No
other idea  would come into Bilbo's tired head. He just sat staring in front
of him at the endless  trees; and after a while they all fell  silent again.
All  except Balin. Long after the others had stopped talking  and shut their
eyes, he kept on muttering and chuckling to himself.
     "Gollum! Well I'm blest! So that's how he sneaked past  me is it? Now I
know! Just crept  quietly along did you,  Mr. Baggins? Buttons  all over the
doorstep?  Good  old Bilbo-Bilbo-Bilbo-bo-bo-bo--" And  then he fell asleep,
and there was complete silence for a long time.
     All of a  sudden Dwalin opened an eye, and looked round at them. "Where
is Thorin?" he asked.  It was  a terrible shock. Of course there  were  only
thirteen  of  them, twelve  dwarves and the hobbit. Where indeed was Thorin?
They wondered what evil fate had  befallen him, magic  or dark monsters; and
shuddered as they lay  lost in the forest. There they dropped off one by one
into  uncomfortable sleep full of horrible  dreams, as evening wore to black
night; and there we must leave  them for the present, too  sick and weary to
set guards or take turns watching.
     Thorin  had been caught much faster than they had.  You  remember Bilbo
falling  like a  log into sleep,  as he  stepped into a circle of light? The
next time it had been Thorin who stepped forward, and as the lights went out
he  fell like a  stone enchanted.  All the noise of the dwarves lost  in the
night, their cries as the  spiders caught them  and  bound them, and all the
sounds  of  the battle  next  day,  had  passed over  him unheard.  Then the
Wood-elves  had come to  him,  and bound him,  and  carried  him  away.  The
feasting  people were Wood-elves, of course. These  are not wicked folk.  If
they have  a  fault it  is distrust  of  strangers.  Though their  magic was
strong, even in those days they were wary. They differed from the High Elves
of the West, and  were  more  dangerous  and  less wise. For  most  of  them
(together  with their scattered relations  in the hills  and mountains) were
descended from the  ancient tribes that never went  to Faerie  in  the West.
There the Light-elves  and the Deep-elves and the Sea-elves  went  and lived
for ages, and  grew  fairer and  wiser and more  learned, and invented their
magic  and  their cunning  craft, in the making of beautiful and  marvellous
things, before some came back into the  Wide  World. In  the Wide  World the
Wood-elves lingered  in the twilight of our Sun and Moon but  loved best the
stars; and they wandered  in the great forests that  grew tall in lands that
are now lost. They dwelt most  often by the edges of the woods,  from  which
they  could escape at times to hunt, or to ride and run over the  open lands
by moonlight or  starlight; and after the coming of Men  they took ever more
and more to the gloaming and the dusk. Still elves they were and remain, and
that is Good People.
     In  a  great cave some miles within the edge of Mirkwood on its eastern
side there lived at this time their  greatest king. Before his huge doors of
stone a river ran out of the heights  of the  forest and flowed  on  and out
into the marshes at the feet of the high wooded lands. This great cave, from
which countless smaller ones opened out on every side, wound far underground
and had many  passages and wide halls; but it was lighter and more wholesome
than any goblin-dwelling,  and neither so deep nor so dangerous. In fact the
subjects of the king mostly lived  and hunted  in  the  open woods,  and had
houses  or  huts on the ground and in  the branches. The beeches were  their
favourite trees. The king's cave was his palace, and the strong place of his
treasure, and the fortress of his people against their enemies.
     It was also  the dungeon of his prisoners. So to the cave  they dragged
Thorin-not too gently, for they did not love dwarves,  and thought he was an
enemy. In ancient days they had had wars with some of the dwarves, whom they
accused of stealing their treasure. It is only fair to  say that the dwarves
gave a  different account, and said that they only took what was their  due,
for the elf-king had bar- gained with them to shape his raw gold and silver,
and had afterwards refused to give  them  their pay.  If the elf-king  had a
weakness  it  was for treasure, especially  for silver and white  gems;  and
though his hoard was  rich, he was ever eager for more, since he had not yet
as great  a treasure as other elf-lords of old. His people neither mined nor
worked metals or jewels, nor did they bother much with trade or with tilling
the earth.  All this was well known  to  every dwarf, though Thorin's family
had had nothing to do  with  the old quarrel I have  spoken of. Consequently
Thorin was angry at their  treatment of  him, when they took their spell off
him and he came  to his senses; and also he was  determined  that no word of
gold or jewels should be dragged out of him.
     The king looked sternly on Thorin, when  he was brought before him, and
asked him many questions. But Thorin would only say that he was starving.
     "Why did you and your folk three times try to attack my people at their
merrymaking?" asked the king.
     "We did not attack them,"  answered Thorin; "we came to beg, because we
were starving."
     "Where are your friends now, and what are they doing?"
     "I don't know, but I expect starving in the forest."
     "What were you doing in the forest?"
     "Looking for food and drink, because we were starving."
     "But what brought you into the forest at all?" asked the king angrily.
     At that Thorin shut his mouth and would not say another word.
     "Very well!" said the king. "Take  him away and keep him safe, until he
feels inclined to tell the truth, even if he waits a hundred years.'"
     Then  the elves put  thongs on him, and  shut him in one of  the inmost
caves with strong wooden doors, and left him. They  gave him food and drink,
plenty of both, if not very fine; for Wood-elves were not goblins,  and were
reasonably  well-behaved even to their  worst  enemies, when  they  captured
them.  The giant spiders were the only living things that  they had no mercy
upon.
     There in the king's dungeon poor Thorin lay; and after he had  got over
his thankfulness for bread and meat and water,  he began to wonder  what had
become  of  his  unfortunate  friends.  It  was  not  very  long  before  he
discovered; but  that  belongs to  the next  chapter  and  the beginning  of
another adventure in which the hobbit again showed his usefulness.

Chapter 9. Barrels Out of Bond

     The day  after the battle with the  spiders Bilbo and  the dwarves made
one last despairing effort to find a way out before they died  of hunger and
thirst. They got up and staggered on in the direction which eight out of the
thirteen of them guessed to be the one in which the path lay; but they never
found  out if they were right. Such day as there ever was in the  forest was
fading once more into  the blackness of night, when suddenly out  sprang the
light of many torches all round them, like hundreds of red stars. Out leaped
Wood-elves with their bows and spears and called the dwarves to halt.
     There was no thought of a fight.  Even if the dwarves  had  not been in
such a  state  that  they were actually glad to  be  captured,  their  small
knives, the only weapons they  had, would  have  been  of no use against the
arrows of the elves  that could hit a bird's eye in the dark. So they simply
stopped  dead  and sat down  and waited-all except Bilbo, who popped on  his
ring and slipped quickly to one side.
     That  is  why, when the  elves  bound  the  dwarves in a long line, one
behind the  other, and counted them, they never found or counted the hobbit.
Nor did  they  hear or feel him trotting along well behind their torch-light
as they  led off their prisoners into  the forest. Each dwarf was blindfold,
but that did not make much difference,  for even Bilbo  with the  use of his
eyes could not see where they were going, and neither he nor the others knew
where  they  had started from  anyway. Bilbo  had all he could do to keep up
with the torches, for the elves were making  the dwarves go as fast as  ever
they could,  sick and weary as they  were. The king had ordered them to make
haste. Suddenly  the torches stopped, and the hobbit had just time  to catch
them up before they began to cross the bridge. This was the  bridge that led
across the river to the  king's doors. The  water flowed dark and swift  and
strong  beneath; and at  the  far end were gates before the mouth  of a huge
cave that  ran into the side of a steep  slope covered with trees. There the
great  beeches came right  down to  the  bank, till their  feet were  in the
stream.  Across  this  bridge  the elves thrust  their  prisoners, but Bilbo
hesitated in the rear.  He did not at all  like the look of the cavern-mouth
and  he  only made up  his mind not to desert  his friends  just  in time to
scuttle over at the heels of  the fast elves, before the great gates of  the
king closed behind them with a clang.
     Inside the passages were  lit with red torch-light, and  the elf-guards
sang as they marched along the twisting, crossing, and  echoing paths. These
were not  like those  of the goblin-cities:  they  were  smaller, less  deep
underground,  and filled  with a cleaner air. In a  great hall with  pillars
hewn out of the living stone sat the Elvenking on a chair of carven wood. On
his  head  was a crown of  berries and red leaves, for  the autumn  was come
again. In the  spring he  wore a crown  of  woodland flowers. In his hand he
held a carven staff of oak.
     The prisoners were brought  before him; and though  he looked grimly at
them, he  told his men  to unbind  them,  for  they  were ragged  and weary.
"Besides they need  no ropes in here," said  he. "There is no escape from my
magic doors for those who are once brought inside."
     Long  and searchingly he questioned the dwarves about their doings, and
where they were going to, and where they were coming from; but he got little
more news out  of them than out of Thorin. They were surly and angry and did
not even pretend to be polite.
     "What have we done,  O  king?" said Balin, who was the eldest left. "Is
it a crime to be lost in the forest, to be hungry and thirsty, to be trapped
by spiders? Are  the  spiders your tame beasts or your pets, if killing them
makes you angry?" Such a question of course made the king angrier than ever,
and he answered: "It is a crime to wander in my realm without leave. Do  you
forget that you were in my kingdom, using the road  that my people made? Did
you not three times pursue and trouble my  people in the forest and '  rouse
the spiders with your riot and clamour? After all  the disturbance  you have
made I have  a right to know what brings you  here, and if you will not tell
me  now, I  will keep you  all in prison until  you  have  learned sense and
manners!"
     Then he ordered the dwarves each to be put in a separate cell and to be
given food and  drink, but not  to be allowed  to  pass the  doors of  their
little prisons,  until one at least of them was willing to tell him  all  he
wanted to  know. But  be did not tell them  that Thorin was also a  prisoner
with him. It was Bilbo who found that out.

     Poor  Mr. Baggins  -- it was a weary  long time that he  lived in  that
place all  alone,  and always in hiding, never daring to take off his  ring,
hardly daring to sleep, even tucked away in the darkest  and remotest comers
he  could  find.  For  something to  do  he  took  to  wandering  about  the
Elven-king's  palace. Magic shut the gates, but be  could sometimes get out,
if he  was  quick. Companies of the Wood-elves, sometimes with  the king  at
their head, would from time to  time ride out to hunt, or  to other business
in the woods and in the lands to the East. Then if Bilbo was very nimble, he
could slip out just behind them; though it was a dangerous thing to do. More
than once he was nearly caught in the  doors, as they  clashed together when
the last elf passed; yet he did not dare to march among them because of  his
shadow (altogether thin and wobbly as it was in torch-light), or for fear of
being bumped into and discovered. And when he did go out, which was not very
often, he did no good.  He did not wish to desert the dwarves, and indeed he
did not  know where in the  world  to go without them. He could not keep  up
with the hunting  elves all  the time  they were out, so he never discovered
the ways out of the  wood, and was left to wander miserably  in  the forest,
terrified of losing himself, until a chance came of returning. He was hungry
too outside, for he was no  hunter; but  inside the caves he could pick up a
living of some sort by stealing food from store or  table when no one was at
hand. "I am like  a burglar  that can't get away, but  must go  on miserably
burgling the same house  day after day," he thought. "This is  the dreariest
and dullest part of all this wretched,  tiresome, uncomfortable adventure! I
wish  I was  back  in my  hobbit-hole by my own warm fireside with the  lamp
shining!" He often wished, too, that he could get a message for help sent to
the wizard, but that  of course was quite impossible;  and  he soon realized
that if anything was  to be done,  it would have to be done by  Mr. Baggins,
alone and unaided.
     Eventually, after  a week  or  two of  this sneaking sort of  life,  by
watching  and  following  the guards and  taking what  chances he  could, he
managed to find out where each  dwarf was  kept. He found  all  their twelve
cells in  different parts of the palace, and after a time he got to know his
way about very well. What  was his surprise one day to overhear some of  the
guards talking and to learn that there was another dwarf in prison too, in a
specially  deep dark  place.  He guessed  at once, of course,  that that was
Thorin; and after a while he  found that his guess was right.  At last after
many difficulties he managed to find the place when no one was about, and to
have  a word with the chief of the  dwarves. Thorin was  too wretched to  be
angry  any longer at his  misfortunes, and was  even  beginning to think  of
telling the  king all  about  his  treasure and  his quest  (which shows how
low-spirited he  had  become), when he heard Bilbo's  little  voice  at  his
keyhole. He could hardly believe  his ears. Soon however he made up his mind
that he  could not be mistaken,  and  he  came  to the  door and had a  long
whispered talk with the hobbit on the other side.
     So it was that Bilbo was able to take secretly Thorin's message to each
of  the other imprisoned dwarves, telling  them that Thorin their chief  was
also in prison close at hand, and that no one was to reveal  their errand to
the  long, not yet,  not before Thorin gave  the  word. For Thorin had taken
heart  again hearing how  the  hobbit had  rescued his  companions from  the
spiders, and was determined once more not to ransom himself with promises to
the king of a share in the treasure, until all hope of escaping in any other
way had disappeared; until in fact the  remarkable Mr. Invisible Baggins (of
whom he began  to have a very high opinion indeed) had  altogether failed to
think of something clever.
     The other dwarves  quite agreed when  they  got the  message. They  all
thought  their own  shares  in the  treasure (which they  quite regarded  as
theirs, in  spite of their plight and the still  unconquered  dragon)  would
suffer seriously if the Wood-elves claimed part of it, and they all  trusted
Bilbo. Just what  Gandalf had said would happen, you see. Perhaps  that  war
part of his reason for going off and leaving them.
     Bilbo, however, did not feel nearly so hopeful as they did.  He did not
like being depended on by everyone, and he wished he had the wizard at hand.
But  that was no use: probably all the dark distance of Mirkwood lay between
them.  He sat and  thought and thought, until  his head nearly burst, but no
bright idea would come. One invisible ring was a very fine thing, but it was
not  much good among fourteen.  But of  course, as you have guessed, he  did
rescue his friends in the end, and this is  how it happened. One day, nosing
and  wandering  about. Bilbo  discovered a very interesting thing: the great
gates were not the only entrance to the caves. A stream flowed under part of
the lowest regions  of  the palace, and  joined the  Forest  River some  way
further  to the east, beyond  the  steep slope out  of which the main  mouth
opened.  Where  this underground  watercourse came forth from  the  hillside
there was a water-gate. There the rocky roof  came down close to the surface
of the stream, and from it a portcullis could be dropped right to the bed of
the  river to prevent anyone coming in or out that way.  But  the portcullis
was  often  open,  for  a good  deal  of traffic  went out  and  in  by  the
water-gate. If anyone had come in that way, he would have found himself in a
dark rough tunnel  leading deep into the heart of the hill; but at one point
where it passed  under the caves the roof had been cut away and covered with
great oaken trapdoors. These opened upwards into  the  king's cellars. There
stood barrels, and barrels, and barrels; for  the Wood-elves, and especially
their king, were very fond of wine, though no vines grew in those parts. The
wine,  and other goods, were brought from far away, from  their kinsfolk  in
the South, or from the vineyards of Men in distant lands.
     Hiding behind one of the largest barrels Bilbo discovered the trapdoors
and  their use,  and  lurking  there,  listening  to the talk of the  king's
servants,  he learned how  the wine and  other goods came up the rivers,  or
over  land, to the  Long  Lake. It seemed a town  of Men still throve there,
built out on  bridges far into the water as a protection against  enemies of
all sorts, and especially against the dragon of the Mountain. From Lake-town
the  barrels were brought up the Forest River.  Often  they  were just  tied
together  like big  rafts and  poled or rowed up the stream; sometimes  they
were loaded on to flat boats.
     When the barrels were empty the elves cast them through the  trapdoors,
opened  the water-gate, and out the barrels  floated on  the stream, bobbing
along, until  they were carried by the current to a place far down the river
where the bank jutted out, near to the very eastern edge of Mirkwood.  There
they  were collected and tied together and floated back to  Lake-town, which
stood close to the point where the Forest River flowed into the Long Lake.

     For some time Bilbo sat and thought about this water-gate, and wondered
if it could be used for the escape of his  friends,  and  at last he had the
desperate beginnings of a plan.
     The evening meal had  been  taken to the  prisoners.  The  guards  were
tramping away down the passages taking the torch-light with them and leaving
everything in darkness. Then Bilbo heard the king's butler bidding the chief
of the guards good-night.
     "Now come with me," he said, "and taste the new wine that has just come
in. I shall be hard at work tonight clearing the  cellars of the empty wood,
so let us have a drink first to help the labour."
     "Very good," laughed the chief of the guards. "I'll taste with you, and
see if it is fit for the king's table. There is a feast tonight and it would
not do to send up poor stuff!"

     When he heard this Bilbo was all in a flutter, for he saw that luck was
with him and he had a chance at once to try his desperate plan. He  followed
the two elves, until they entered a small cellar and sat down at a  table on
which two  large  flagons  were  set. Soon  they  began  to drink and  laugh
merrily. Luck of an unusual kind was with Bilbo then. It must be potent wine
to make a  wood-elf drowsy;  but this wine,  it would  seem,  was  the heady
vintage of the great gardens of Dorwinion, not meant for his soldiers or his
servants, but for the king's feasts only, and for smaller bowls, not for the
butler's great flagons.
     Very soon the chief guard nodded his head, then he laid it on the table
and fell fast asleep. The butler went on talking and laughing to himself for
a while without seeming  to  notice,  but soon his  head too  nodded  to the
table,  and he fell asleep and snored beside his friend.  Then in crept  the
hobbit. Very  soon  the  chief guard had no keys,  but Bilbo was trotting as
fast as he could along the passage towards the cells. The great bunch seemed
very heavy to his arms, and  his heart was often  in  his mouth, in spite of
his ring, for he could not prevent the keys from making every now and then a
loud clink and clank, which put him all in a tremble.
     First he  unlocked  Balin's door, and locked it again carefully as soon
as the dwarf was  outside. Balin was most surprised, as you can imagine; but
glad as  he was to get  out of his wearisome little stone room, he wanted to
stop  and ask questions, and  know what Bilbo was going to do, and all about
it.
     "No time now!"  said the hobbit. "You must follow me! We must all  keep
together and not  risk getting separated. All of us must escape or none, and
this is our last chance. If this is found out, goodness knows where the king
will put you next,  with chains on your  hands and feet too, I expect. Don't
argue, there's a good fellow!"
     Then off  he went  from door to door, until his following  had grown to
twelve-none  of them any too nimble, what with the dark, and what with their
long imprisonment. Bilbo's heart thumped every time  one of them bumped into
another,  or grunted or whispered in the dark.  "Drat this dwarvish racket!"
he said to himself. But  all went well, and they met no  guards. As a matter
of fact there was  a great autumn feast in the  woods that night, and in the
halls  above. Nearly all  the king's  folks were merrymaking. At  last after
much blundering they came to Thorin's dungeon, far down  in a deep place and
fortunately not far from the cellars.
     "Upon my word!" said Thorin,  when Bilbo whispered to him  to come  out
and join his friends,  "Gandalf spoke true, as usual.  A pretty fine burglar
you  make, it  seems, when the time comes. I am sure we are  all for ever at
your service, whatever happens after this. But what comes next?"
     Bilbo saw that  the time had come to  explain his  idea,  as  far as he
could; but he did not  feel at  all sure bow  the dwarves would take it. His
fears were  quite  justified, for  they did  not like  it a bit, and started
grumbling loudly in spite of their danger.
     "We  shall be  bruised and  battered to  pieces,  and drowned too,  for
certain!" they muttered. "We thought you  had got some sensible notion, when
you managed to get hold of the keys. This is a mad idea!"
     "Very well!" said Bilbo very  downcast, and  also rather annoyed. "Come
along back to your nice cells, and I will lock you all in again, and you can
sit there comfortably and think of a better plan-but I don't suppose I shall
ever get hold of the keys again, even if I feel inclined to try."
     "That was  too  much  for  them, and they calmed down. In  the end,  of
course, they had to  do just what Bilbo  suggested, because it was obviously
impossible  for  them to try and find their  way into the upper halls, or to
fight  their  way out  of  gates that closed  by magic;  and  it was no good
grumbling in  the passages until  they  were  caught again. So following the
hobbit, down into the lowest cellars they crept.  They passed a door through
which the chief  guard and the  butler could be  seen still happily  snoring
with smiles upon their faces. The wine of Dorwinion brings deep and pleasant
dreams. There would be a different expression on the face of the chief guard
next day, even though Bilbo, before they went on, stole in and kindheartedly
put the keys back on his belt.
     "That will save him some of the trouble he is in for," said Mr. Baggins
to  himself. "He  wasn't a bad fellow, and quite decent to the prisoners. It
will puzzle them all too. They will think we had a very strong magic to pass
through all those locked doors and disappear. Disappear! We  have got to get
busy very quick, if that is to happen!"

     Balin was told off to watch the  guard and the  butler and give warning
if they stirred. The rest went into the adjoining cellar with the trapdoors.
There was little time to lose. Before long, as  Bilbo knew, some  elves were
under orders to come down and help the  butler get the empty barrels through
the  doors into the  stream. These were in fact already  standing in rows in
the  middle  of the  floor  waiting  to  be  pushed off.  Some  of them were
wine-barrels,  and these  were  not  much use, as they  could not  easily be
opened at  the end without a deal of noise, nor could they easily be secured
again.  But among them were several others which  had been used for bringing
other stuffs, butter, apples, and all sorts of things, to the king's palace.
     They soon found thirteen with room  enough for a dwarf in each. In fact
some were too roomy, and as they climbed in the dwarves thought anxiously of
the shaking and the bumping they would get inside, though Bilbo did his best
to find straw and other stuff to  pack them in as cosily as could be managed
in  a short time. At last twelve dwarves were stowed. Thorin had given a lot
of trouble, and turned  and twisted in his tub and grumbled like a large dog
in  a small kennel; while Balin, who came last, made a great  fuss about his
air-holes  and  said he was stifling, even before his  lid was on. Bilbo had
done what he could to close holes in the sides of the barrels, and to fix on
all the lids as safely as could be managed, and now he was left alone again,
running round putting  the  finishing touches-to  the  packing,  and  hoping
against hope that his plan would come off.
     It had not been a-bit too soon. Only a minute or  two after Balin's lid
had been fitted on there came the sound of voices and the flicker of lights.
A number of elves came laughing  and talking  into  the cellars and  singing
snatches of song.  They had left a merry feast in one  of the halls and were
bent  on returning as soon as they could. "Where's old Galion, the  butler?"
said one. "I haven't seen him at the tables tonight. He ought to be here now
to show us what is to be done."
     "I shall be angry if the  old slowcoach is late," said another. "I have
no wish to waste time down here while the song is up!"
     "Ha, ha!" came a  cry. "Here's the  old villain with his head on a jug!
He's been having a little feast all to himself and his friend the captain."
     "Shake him! Wake him!" shouted  the others impatiently. Gallon  was not
at  all pleased at  being shaken or wakened, and still less at being laughed
at. "You're all late," he  grumbled.  "Here am  I  waiting and waiting  down
here, while  you fellows drink and make merry and forget your  tasks.  Small
wonder if I fall asleep from weariness!"
     "Small wonder,"  said they, "when the explanation  stands close at hand
in a jug! Come give us a  taste of your sleeping-draught before we fall  to!
No  need to wake  the  turnkey  yonder. He has had his share by the looks of
it."
     Then they drank once round and became mighty merry all of a sudden. But
they  did not quite  lose their wits. "Save  us,  Galion!" cried some,  "you
began your feasting early and muddled your  wits! You have stacked some full
casks here instead of the empty ones, if there is anything in weight."
     "Get on with the  work!" growled the butler.  "There  is nothing in the
feeling of  weight in an idle toss-pot's arms. These are  the ones to go and
no others. Do as I say!"
     "Very  well,  very  well," they  answered  rolling  the barrels to  the
opening. "On your head  be it, if  the  king's full  buttertubs and his best
wine is pushed into the river for the Lake-men to feast on for nothing!"

     Roll-roll-roll-roll,
     roll-roll-rolling down the hole I
     Heave ho! Splash plump !
     Down they go, down they bump!

     So they  sang as first one barrel and then another rumbled to  the dark
opening and was pushed over into the  cold water some feet  below. Some were
barrels  really  empty, some were  tubs neatly packed with a dwarf each; but
down  they  all  went, one after another,  with many  a  clash and  a  bump,
thudding on top of ones below, smacking into the water, jostling against the
walls  of the tunnel, knocking into one another,  and bobbing away down  the
current.
     It was  just at  this  moment that  Bilbo suddenly discovered  the weak
point  in  his plan. Most  likely you saw  it  some  time  ago and have been
laughing  at  him; but I don't suppose you  would  have done  half  as  well
yourselves in his place. Of course he was not in a barrel  himself, nor  was
there anyone to pack him in,  even if there had been  a chance! It looked as
if he would certainly  lose his friends this time  (nearly all of  them  had
already disappeared through the dark trap-door), and get utterly left behind
and have to stay lurking as a permanent burglar  in  the elf-caves for ever.
For even if he could have  escaped through the upper gates  at  once, he had
precious small chance of ever finding the dwarves again. He did not know the
way by land to the place  where the barrels were collected. He wondered what
on earth would happen to  them without him; for he had not had time to  tell
the dwarves all that he had learned, or what he had meant  to do,  once they
were out of the wood. While  all  these thoughts  were  passing through  his
mind, the elves being  very merry began to sing a song round the river-door.
Some had already gone to haul on the ropes which pulled up the portcullis at
the water-gate so as to let out the barrels  as soon as they were all afloat
below.

     Down the swift dark stream you go
     Back to lands you once did know!
     Leave the halls and caverns deep,
     Leave the northern mountains steep,
     Where the forest wide and dim
     Stoops in shadow grey and grim!
     Float beyond the world of trees
     Out into the whispering breeze,
     Past the rushes, past the reeds,
     Past the marsh's waving weeds,
     Through the mist that riseth white
     Up from mere and pool at night!
     Follow, follow stars that leap
     Up the heavens cold and steep;
     Turn when dawn comes over land,
     Over rapid, over sand,
     South away! and South away!
     Seek the sunlight and the day,
     Back to pasture, back to mead,
     Where the kine and oxen feed!
     Back to gardens on the hills
     Where the berry swells and fills
     Under sunlight, under day!
     South away! and South away!
     Down the swift dark stream you go
     Back to lands you once did know!

     Now the very last barrel was being rolled to the  doors! In despair and
not knowing what else to do,  poor  little Bilbo  caught hold of  it and was
pushed over the edge with it. Down  into the water he fell, splash! into the
cold dark water with the barrel on top  of him. He came up again spluttering
and clinging to the wood like a rat, but  for all his efforts  he could  not
scramble on top. Every time he tried, the barrel rolled round and ducked him
under  again. It was  really empty, and floated light as a  cork. Though his
ears were full of water, he could hear the elves still singing in the cellar
above.  Then suddenly  the  trapdoors  fell to with  a boom and their voices
faded away.  He was in the dark tunnel, floating in icy water, all alone-for
you cannot count friends that are all packed up in barrels.
     Very  soon a grey patch came up in the  darkness ahead.  He  heard  the
creak  of the water-gate  being  hauled up, and he  found that he was in the
midst of a bobbing and bumping mass of casks and  tubs all pressing together
to pass under the arch and get  out into the open stream. He  had as much as
he could do to prevent himself from being hustled and battered to bits;  but
at last  the jostling crowd  began  to  break up and  swing off, one by one,
under the stone arch and  away. Then he saw that it would have  been no good
even if he had managed to get astride his  barrel, for there was no room  to
spare, not even for a hobbit, between its top and the suddenly stooping roof
where the gate was.

     Out  they  went under the overhanging  branches of the trees on  either
bank. Bilbo wondered  what the dwarves were  feeling  and  whether a lot  of
water was getting into their tubs. Some of those that bobbed along by him in
the  gloom  seemed pretty low in the  water, and he guessed  that these  had
dwarves inside.
     "I do hope I put the lids on tight enough!" he thought, but before long
he was worrying too  much about himself to remember  the dwarves. He managed
to keep his head above the water, but he was shivering with the cold, and he
wondered if he would die  of it before the luck  turned, and how much longer
he would  be  able to  hang  on, and  whether he  should risk the  chance of
letting go and trying to swim to the bank.
     The  luck turned all  right before  long: the eddying  current  carried
several barrels close ashore at one point  and there for a while they  stuck
against  some  hidden root. Then Bilbo took the opportunity of scrambling up
the side of  his  barrel while it  was  held steady  against  another. Up he
crawled like  a drowned rat,  and lay  on  the top  spread out to  keep  the
balance as best he could. The breeze was cold but better than the water, and
he  hoped he  would not  suddenly roll off again when they started off  once
more. Before  long  the barrels broke free  again and turned and twisted off
down  the  stream, and out  into the main current  Then he found it quite as
difficult to stick on as he had feared; but he managed it somehow, though it
was miserably uncomfortable. Luckily he was very light, and the barrel was a
good big one and being rather leaky had now shipped a small amount of water.
All  the same  it  was like trying to  ride, without bridle or  stirrups,  a
round-bellied pony that was always thinking of rolling on the grass. In this
way at last Mr.  Baggins came to a place where the trees on either hand grew
thinner. He  could see the  paler sky between  them.  The dark river  opened
suddenly wide, and there it was joined to the main water of the Forest River
flowing down in haste from  the king's great doors. There was a dim sheet of
water no longer overshadowed, and on its sliding surface  there were dancing
and  broken  reflections of clouds and of stars. Then the hurrying  water of
the Forest River swept all the  company of casks  and tubs away to the north
bank, in  which it had eaten out a wide bay. This had  a shingly shore under
hanging banks and was walled at the eastern end by a  little jutting cape of
hard rock.  On the shallow shore most  of the barrels ran  aground, though a
few went on to bump against the stony pier.
     There  were people on the look-out on the banks. They quickly poled and
pushed all the barrels together into the shallows, and when they had counted
them they roped them together and left them  till the morning. Poor dwarves!
Bilbo was not so badly off now. He slipped from his barrel and waded ashore,
and then sneaked along to some huts that he could see near the water's edge.
He no longer thought twice about picking up a supper uninvited if he got the
chance, he had been obliged to do it for so long, and he  knew only too well
what it was to  be  really  hungry, not merely  politely  interested  in the
dainties  of a well-filled larder.  Also he had  caught a glimpse  of a fire
through the  trees, and  that appealed to him with his dripping  and  ragged
clothes clinging to him cold and clammy.

     There is no need to tell you much of his adventures that night, for now
we are drawing near the end of the eastward journey  and coming to the  last
and greatest adventure, so we  must hurry on. Of course helped  by his magic
ring he got  on very well at first,  but he was given away in the end by his
wet footsteps and  the trail of drippings that he  left wherever he  went or
sat; and also he began to snivel, and wherever he tried to hide he was found
out by the terrific explosions  of his suppressed sneezes.  Very soon  there
was a fine commotion in the village by the riverside; but Bilbo escaped into
the woods carrying a loaf and  a leather bottle of  wine and  a pie that did
not belong  to  him. The rest of the night  he had to pass wet as he was and
far from a fire, but the bottle helped him to do that, and he actually dozed
a little on some dry  leaves,  even though the year was getting late and the
air was chilly.
     He woke  again  with  a  specially  loud  sneeze. It  was  already grey
morning, and there was a merry racket down by the river. They were making up
a raft of barrels, and the raft-elves would soon be steering it off down the
stream  to Lake-town. Bilbo sneezed again.  He was no longer dripping but he
felt  cold all over. He scrambled down as  fast as his stiff legs would take
him  and  managed just in time to  get on to the mass of casks without being
noticed in the general bustle. Luckily there was  no sun at the time to cast
an awkward shadow, and for a mercy he did not sneeze again for a good while.
     There was  a mighty pushing  of poles.  The elves that were standing in
the shallow  .water heaved and  shoved. The  barrels now all lashed together
creaked and fretted. .
     "This  is a  heavy  load!" some grumbled. "They  float too deep-some of
these are never empty.  If they  had come  ashore in the  daylight, we might
have had a look inside," they said.
     "No time now!" cried the raftman. "Shove off!"
     And off they went at last, slowly at first,  until they  had passed the
point of rock where other elves stood to fend them off with poles, and  then
quicker and quicker  as  they caught the main stream and  went  sailing away
down, down towards the Lake.
     They had escaped the dungeons of the  king and were  through the  wood,
but whether alive or dead still remains to be seen.

Chapter 10. A Warm Welcome

     The day  grew lighter and  warmer as they floated along. After  a while
the river rounded a steep shoulder of  land that came down upon  their left.
Under  its rocky  feet like  an  inland cliff the deepest stream  had flowed
lapping and  bubbling. Suddenly  the cliff fell away.  The shores sank.  The
trees ended. Then Bilbo saw a sight: The lands opened wide about him, filled
with  the waters of  the river which  broke  up  and wandered  in  a hundred
winding courses, or halted  in marshes and pools dotted  with isles on every
side: but still a strong water flowed on steadily through the midst. And far
away, its dark head in a torn cloud, there  loomed the Mountain! Its nearest
neighbours to  the  North-East and the  tumbled land that joined it to  them
could not  be seen. All  alone it rose and looked across the marshes  to the
forest. The Lonely Mountain! Bilbo had come far and through  many adventures
to see it, and now he did not like the look of it in the least.
     As  he  listened  to the talk  of  the raftmen and  pieced together the
scraps  of  information they let fall,  he  soon  realized  that he was very
fortunate ever  to have seen it at all,  even  from this distance. Dreary as
had been his imprisonment and unpleasant as was his position (to say nothing
of the poor dwarves underneath  him) still, he  had  been more lucky than he
had guessed.  The  talk  was all of  the trade  that  came and  went  on the
waterways and  the growth  of the traffic on the river,  as the roads out of
the  East  towards  Mirkwood vanished  or  fell  into  disuse;  and  of  the
bickerings of the Lake-men and the Wood-elves about the upkeep of the Forest
River and the care of the banks.
     Those lands had changed much since the days  when dwarves dwelt in  the
Mountain, days  which  most  people now  remembered only as  a  very shadowy
tradition. They  had changed even  in  recent years, and since the last news
that Gandalf had had of them. Great floods and  rains had swollen the waters
that flowed  east; and there had  been an earthquake or two (which some were
inclined to attribute to the dragon-alluding to him chiefly with a curse and
an ominous nod  in the direction of the Mountain). The marshes and  bogs had
spread wider and  wider on either side. Paths had vanished, and many a rider
and  wanderer  too, if  they  had tried  to find the lost  ways across.  The
elf-road through the wood  which  the dwarves had followed on  the advice of
Beorn now came to a doubtful and  little used end at the eastern edge of the
forest;  only the river  offered any longer  a safe way  from the  skirts of
Mirkwood in the North to the mountain-shadowed plains  beyond, and the river
was guarded by the Wood-elves' king.
     So  you see Bilbo  had  come in the end by the only road that  was  any
good.  It might  have been  some  comfort  to Mr.  Baggins shivering on  the
barrels, if he had known that news of this had reached Gandalf far away  and
given him  great anxiety,  and  that  he  was  in fact  finishing  his other
business (which  does not  come into this tale) and getting ready to come in
search of Thorin's company. But Bilbo did not know it.
     All he knew was that the river  seemed to go on and on and on for ever,
and he was hungry, and had  a nasty  cold in the nose, and did not  like the
way the Mountain  seemed to frown at  him  and threaten  him as it drew ever
nearer. After a while, however, the  river took  a more southerly course and
the Mountain receded again,  and  at last, late in the  day the  shores grew
rocky, the river gathered all its wandering waters  together into a deep and
rapid flood, and they swept along at great speed.
     The sun  had set when turning with another  sweep towards the  East the
forest-river rushed into the Long Lake. There it had a wide mouth with stony
clifflike gates at either side whose feet were piled with shingles. The Long
Lake! Bilbo had  never imagined that any  water that was not  the sea  could
look so big. It  was so wide that the opposite shores looked  small and far,
but it  was  so  long that  its  northerly  end, which pointed  towards  the
Mountain,  could  not be seen at  all. Only from the map did Bilbo know that
away  up there, where  the stars of the  Wain  were already  twinkling,  the
Running  River came down into the lake from Dale and with the  Forest  River
filled with deep waters what  must once have been a great deep rocky valley.
At the southern end the doubled waters poured out again over high waterfalls
and ran away hurriedly to unknown lands. In the still evening air the  noise
of the falls could be heard like a distant roar.
     Not  far from  the mouth  of the Forest  River was the strange  town he
heard the elves  speak of in  the king's cellars.  It  was  not built on the
shore, though  there were a few  huts and buildings there, but right out  on
the surface of the lake, protected from the swirl of the entering river by a
promontory of rock  which formed a calm  bay. A great .  bridge made of wood
ran out to where on  huge piles made of forest trees was built a busy wooden
town,  not a town  of elves but of Men, who  still dared to dwell here under
the  shadow of the distant dragon-mountain. They still  throve  on the trade
that came up the great river from the South and was carted past the falls to
their town; but in the great days of old, when Dale  in  the North was  rich
and  prosperous,  they  had  been wealthy and powerful, and  there  had been
fleets of boats on the waters, and some were filled with gold  and some with
warriors in armour, and  there had been wars and deeds which were now only a
legend. The  rotting  piles of  a greater town could still be seen along the
shores when the waters sank in a drought.
     But men remembered little of all that, though some still sang old songs
of the dwarf-kings  of the Mountain, Thror and Thrain of the race  of Durin,
and of the coming  of the Dragon,  and the fall  of the  lords of Dale. Some
sang too  that Thror and Thrain  would come back one day and gold would flow
in rivers through the mountain-gates, and all that land would be filled with
new song and new  laughter.  But this  pleasant legend  did not much  affect
their daily business.

     As soon as the raft of barrels came in sight  boats  rowed out from the
piles of the town, and voices hailed the raft-steerers. Then ropes were cast
and oars were pulled, and soon the raft  was drawn out of the current of the
Forest River and towed away round the  high shoulder of rock into the little
bay of Lake-town. There it was moored not far from the shoreward head of the
great  bridge. Soon men would come up  from the South and take  some of  the
casks  away, and  others they would fill with  goods  they had brought to be
taken  back up  the stream to  the Wood-elves' home.  In  the meanwhile  the
barrels were left afloat while the elves of the raft and the boatmen went to
feast in Lake-town.
     They would have been  surprised, if they could have  seen what happened
down by  the shore, after they had  gone and the shades of night had fallen.
First of all a barrel was  cut loose  by Bilbo and pushed to the  shore  and
opened. Groans  came from  inside, and out crept a  most  unhappy dwarf. Wet
straw  was in his draggled beard; he was  so sore and stiff, so bruised  and
buffeted  he could hardly stand or stumble through the shallow water  to lie
groaning on the shore. He had  a famished  and a savage look like a dog that
has been chained and forgotten in  a kennel for a week.  It was  Thorin, but
you could  only have told it by  his golden  chain, and by the colour of his
now dirty and tattered sky-blue  hood with its tarnished silver  tassel.  It
was some time before he would be even polite to the hobbit.
     "Well, are you alive  or  are  you  dead?" asked  Bilbo quite  crossly.
Perhaps  he had forgotten  that he had had at least one  good meal more than
the  dwarves, and  also  the use  of  his arms  and legs, not to  speak of a
greater  allowance of air. "Are you still in prison, or are you free? If you
want  food, and if you want  to go on with  this silly adventure- it's yours
after  all and not mine-you had better slap your arms and rub your  legs and
try and help me get the others out while there is a chance!"
     Thorin of course saw the sense of this,  so  after a few more groans he
got  up  and  helped the  hobbit  as  well  as  he  could.  In  the darkness
floundering in the  cold  water they  had  a difficult  and very  nasty  job
finding  which were the right  barrels. Knocking  outside and  calling  only
discovered  about  six dwarves that  could answer.  They were  unpacked  and
helped  ashore  where  they sat or  lay muttering  and moaning; they were so
soaked and  bruised  and cramped that  they could hardly yet  realize  their
release or be properly thankful for it.
     Dwalin  and  Balin  were two of the  most unhappy, and it was  no  good
asking them to help. Bifur and Bofur were less knocked about and drier,  but
they lay down and would do nothing. Fili and Kili,  however,  who were young
(for dwarves) and had also been packed more neatly with plenty of straw into
smaller casks, came out more or less smiling, with only a  bruise or two and
a stiffness that soon wore off.
     "I  hope I never smell the smell of apples again!" said  Fili. "My  tub
was full of it. To smell apples everlastingly when you can scarcely move and
are cold and sick with hunger is maddening. I could eat anything in the wide
world now, for hours on end-but not an apple!"
     With  the willing  help  of  Fili  and Kili, Thorin  and Bilbo at  last
discovered the remainder of  the  company and got them  out. Poor fat Bombur
was asleep or senseless; Dori, Nori, Ori, Oin and Gloin were waterlogged and
seemed only half  alive;  they all  had to  be  carried  one by one and laid
helpless on the shore.
     "Well! Here we are!" said Thorin. "And I  suppose we ought to thank our
stars and  Mr. Baggins. I am sure he has a right to expect it, though I wish
he  could have arranged a more comfortable journey. Still-all  very  much at
your  service  once more, Mr. Baggins.  No  doubt  we  shall  feel  properly
grateful, when we are fed and recovered. In the meanwhile what next?"
     "I suggest Lake-town," said Bilbo, "What else  is there?" Nothing  else
could, of course,  be  suggested; so leaving the others Thorin  and Fili and
Kili  and the  hobbit went along  the shore to the  great bridge. There were
guards at the head of it, but  they were not keeping very careful watch, for
it was  so  long since  there had been any real  need. Except for occasional
squabbles  about river-tolls they  were  friends with the Wood-elves.  Other
folk  were  far  away; and  some of the younger  people in the  town  openly
doubted the existence  of  any dragon in  the mountain,  and laughed  at the
greybeards and gammers who said that they had seen him  flying in the sky in
their young  days. That being so  it is not surprising  that the guards were
drinking and laughing by a fire  in their hut, and did not hear the noise of
the unpacking  of the dwarves  or the  footsteps of the four  scouts.  Their
astonishment was enormous  when Thorin Oakenshield  stepped  in  through the
door.
     "Who are you and what do  you want?" they shouted leaping to their feet
and gipping for weapons.
     "Thorin  son of Thrain  son of Thror King under the Mountain!" said the
dwarf  in a  loud voice, and he  looked it, in spite of his torn clothes and
draggled hood. The  gold  gleamed on his neck and waist: his eyes  were dark
and deep. "I have come back. I wish to see the Master of your town!"
     Then there was tremendous excitement. Some of the more foolish  ran out
of the hut as if  they expected  the Mountain to  go golden in the night and
all  the waters of the lake  to turn  yellow right away. The captain  of the
guard came forward.
     "And who are these?" he asked, pointing to Fili and: Kili and Bilbo.
     "The sons of my  father's daughter," answered Thorin, "Fili and Kili of
the race of  Durin, and Mr. Baggins who has travelled with  us  out  of  the
West."
     "If you come in peace lay down your arms!" said the captain.
     "We have none," said Thorin,  and  it was true enough: their knives had
been taken from  them  by the wood-elves,  and  the great sword Orcrist too.
Bilbo had his short sword, hidden as usual, but he said  nothing about that.
"We have no need of weapons, who return at last to our own as spoken of old.
Nor could we fight against so many. Take us to your master!"
     "He is at feast," said the captain.
     "Then all the more reason for taking us to him," burst in Fili, who was
getting impatient at these solemnities. "We are  worn and famished after our
long road and we have  sick comrades. Now make haste and let us have no more
words, or your master may have something to say to you."
     "Follow me then," said the captain, and with six men about them he  led
them over the bridge through  the  gates and into  the  market-place of  the
town. This was a wide circle of quiet water surrounded by the tall piles  on
which were built  the  greater houses, and by  long  wooden  quays with many
steps and ladders going down to the surface of the lake. From one great hall
shone many lights and there came  the  sound of many voices. They passed its
doors and stood  blinking  in the  light looking at long tables filled  with
folk.
     "I  am Thorin son of  Thrain  son  of  Thror King under the Mountain! I
return!"  cried Thorin  in  a  loud voice from the  door, before the captain
could say anything. All leaped  to their feet. The Master of the town sprang
from his great chair. But none rose in greater surprise than the raft-men of
the elves  who were  sitting at the lower end  of the hall. Pressing forward
before the Master's table they cried:
     "These are prisoners of our king that  have escaped, wandering vagabond
dwarves that could not give any good account of themselves, sneaking through
the woods and molesting our people!"
     "Is this true?" asked the Master. As a matter of fact he thought it far
more  likely  than the  return of the King under the  Mountain, if any  such
person had ever existed.
     "It  is true  that we  were  wrongfully  waylaid by the  Elven-king and
imprisoned without cause as  we journeyed back  to our  own land,"  answered
Thorin. "But lock  nor  bar may hinder the homecoming  spoken of old. Nor is
this town in the Wood-elves' realm. I speak to the Master of the town of the
Men of the lake, not to the raft-men of the king."
     Then the  Master hesitated  and  looked  from  one  to  the other.  The
Elvenking was  very powerful  in  those parts  and  the Master wished for no
enmity with  him, nor did he  think  much of old songs, giving his  mind  to
.trade  and tolls, to cargoes and gold, to which habit he owed his position.
Others were of different mind, however, and quickly the matter  was  settled
without him. The  news  had spread  from the  doors  of the  hall  like fire
through all the  town. People were shouting inside the hall  and outside it.
The quays were thronged with hurrying feet. Some began to  sing snatches  of
old songs concerning the return of the King under the Mountain; that  it was
Thror's grandson not Thror himself that had come back did not bother them at
all. Others took up the song and it rolled loud and high over the lake.

     The King beneath the mountains,
     The King of carven stone,
     The lord of silver fountains
     Shall come into his own!

     His crown shall be upholden,
     His harp shall be restrung,
     His halls shall echo golden
     To songs of yore re-sung.

     The woods shall wave on mountains
     And grass beneath the sun;
     His wealth shall flow in fountains
     And the rivers golden run.

     The streams shall run in gladness,
     The lakes shall shine and burn,
     And sorrow fail and sadness
     At the Mountain-king's return!

     So they sang, or very like that,  only there was  a great  deal more of
it, and there was much shouting as well as the music of harps and of fiddles
mixed  up with it. Indeed such excitement had  not been known in the town in
the memory of  the  oldest  grandfather.  The Wood-elves themselves began to
wonder greatly and even to be afraid. They did not know of course how Thorin
had escaped, and  they began to think  their king might  have made a serious
mistake. As for the Master he saw there  was nothing else for it but to obey
the general  clamour,  for the moment at any rate, and to pretend to believe
that  Thorin was what he said. So he gave up to him  his own great chair and
set Fili and Kili beside  him in places of  honour.  Even  Bilbo was given a
seat at the high table,  and no explanation of where he came in-no songs had
alluded to  him  even  in  the obscurest  way-was  asked  for in the general
bustle.
     Soon  afterwards  the other  dwarves  were  brought into  the town amid
scenes of astonishing enthusiasm. They were all doctored  and fed and housed
and pampered in the most delightful and satisfactory fashion.  A large house
was given  up to Thorin and his company; boats  and rowers were put at their
service;  and crowds sat  outside and sang songs all  day, or cheered if any
dwarf showed so much as his nose.
     Some  of the songs were old ones; but some of  them were quite new  and
spoke confidently of  the sudden death of the dragon and  of cargoes of rich
presents coming down the river to  Lake-town. These were inspired largely by
the Master  and they did not  particularly please the dwarves,  but  in  the
meantime they  were  well  contented and  they quickly grew  fat and  strong
again. Indeed  within a week they were quite recovered,  fitted out in  fine
cloth of  their proper  colours, with beards combed  and  trimmed, and proud
steps. Thorin  looked and walked as if his kingdom was already regained  and
Smaug chopped up into little pieces.
     Then, as  he  had said,  the dwarves' good feeling  towards the  little
hobbit grew stronger every day. There were no more groans  or grumbles. They
drank his  health,  and  they patted him on the back, and  they made a great
fuss of him; which was just  as well,  for  he was  not feeling particularly
cheerful. He had not forgotten the look of the Mountain, nor the thought  of
the  dragon, and he had besides  a  shocking cold. For three days he sneezed
and coughed, and he could not  go out, and even  after  that his speeches at
banquets were limited to "Thag you very buch."

     In the meanwhile the Wood-elves had gone back up the Forest  River with
their cargoes,  and there  was great excitement in the king's palace. I have
never heard what happened to the chief of the guards and the butler. Nothing
of  course was ever said  about keys or barrels while the dwarves  stayed in
Lake-town, and  Bilbo  was  careful  never  to  become invisible.  Still,  I
daresay,  more  was guessed  than was known,  though  doubtless  Mr. Baggins
remained a bit  of  a  mystery.  In any case the king knew now  the dwarves'
errand, or thought he did, and he said to himself:
     "Very  well!  We'll see!  No treasure will  come back through  Mirkwood
without my having something to say in the matter. But I expect they will all
come to a bad end, and serve them right!" He at  any rate did not believe in
dwarves fighting and killing dragons like Smaug, and  he strongly  suspected
attempted burglary or something like it which shows he was  a  wise elf  and
wiser than the men of  the town, though not quite  right, as we shall see in
the end.  He  sent  out his spies about  the shores  of the lake  and as far
northward towards the Mountains as they would go, and waited.
     At the end of a fortnight Thorin began to think of departure. While the
enthusiasm  still lasted  in the town was the time to get help. It would not
do to let everything cool down with delay. So he spoke to the Master and his
councillors  and said  that  soon he and his company must go on towards  the
Mountain.
     Then  for  the  first  time  the  Master  was surprised  and  a  little
frightened; and he wondered if Thorin was after  all  really a descendant of
the old kings. He had never  thought that the dwarves would actually dare to
approach Smaug, but believed they were frauds who would  sooner or  later be
discovered  and be turned out.  He  was wrong. Thorin, of course, was really
the grandson of the King under the Mountain, and there is  no knowing what a
dwarf will not dare and do for revenge or the recovery of  his  own. But the
Master was not sorry at all to let them go. They were expensive to keep, and
their arrival had turned things into a long holiday in which business was at
a standstill.
     "Let  them  go and  bother  Smaug, and  see how he  welcomes  them!" he
thought. "Certainly, O Thorin Thrain's son Thror's son!"  was what  he said.
"You must claim  your own. The hour is at hand, spoken of old. What  help we
can offer shall be yours, and  we  trust to your gratitude when your kingdom
is regained."
     So one day,  although autumn was  now getting  far on, and  winds  were
cold, and leaves were falling  fast, three large boats left Lake-town, laden
with rowers, dwarves, Mr. Baggins,  and  many provisions. Horses  and ponies
had  been sent round  by circuitous  paths to  meet them  at their appointed
landing-place. The  Master and his councillors bade them farewell  from  the
great steps of the town-hall that went down to the lake.  People sang on the
quays and out of windows.  The  white oars dipped and splashed, and off they
went north up the  lake  on  the last stage of their  long journey. The only
person thoroughly unhappy was Bilbo.

Chapter 11. On the Doorstep

     In two days going they rowed right up the Long Lake and passed out into
the River Running, and now they  could all  see the Lonely Mountain towering
grim  and  tall before them. The stream was strong and their going slow.  At
the; end of the third day, some miles up the river, they drew in to the left
or  western bank and disembarked. Here  they were joined by  the horses with
other provisions and necessaries and the ponies  for  their own use that had
been  sent to meet them. They packed what they could on  the ponies  and the
rest  was made into a  store under  a tent, but none of  the men of the town
would stay with them even for the night so near the shadow of the Mountain.
     "Not at any rate  until  the  songs have come true!" said they.  It was
easier to believe in the Dragon and less easy to believe in  Thorin in these
wild parts. Indeed  their  stores had no need of any guard, for all the land
was desolate and empty.  So their escort left them, making off swiftly  down
the river and the  shoreward paths, although the  night was  already drawing
on.
     They spent a cold and lonely night and their spirits fell. The next day
they  set  out again. Balin and Bilbo rode behind, each leading another pony
heavily laden beside him; the others were some way  ahead picking out a slow
road,  for there were no paths. They made north-west, slanting away from the
River Running, and  drawing ever nearer  and nearer to a great  spur  of the
Mountain that was flung out southwards towards them.
     It  was  a  weary journey, and a quiet and stealthy  one. There  was no
laughter or song or sound  of harps,  and the  pride  and  hopes  which  had
stirred in their hearts at the singing of old songs by the lake died away to
a plodding gloom. They knew that they  were drawing near to the end of their
journey, and that it might be  a very horrible end. The land about them grew
bleak and barren,  though once, as  Thorin told them,  it had been green and
fair. There  was little grass, and before long  there  was neither  bush nor
tree,  and only broken and blackened stumps to speak of ones long  vanished.
They were come to the Desolation  of the Dragon,  and  they were come at the
waning of the year.

     They reached the  skirts of the Mountain all  the same  without meeting
any danger or  any sign of the Dragon other than the wilderness  he had made
about his lair. The Mountain lay dark and silent before them and ever higher
above them. They  made their first  camp on the western  side  of  the great
southern spur, which ended  in a height called Ravenhill. On this there  had
been an old watch-post; but they dared not climb it yet, it was too exposed.
     Before setting out to search the western spurs  of the Mountain for the
hidden door,  on  which all their hopes  rested, Thorin  sent out a scouting
expedition  to spy out the land to the South where the Front Gate stood. For
this purpose he chose  Balin and Fili  and Kili,  and with  them went Bilbo.
They  marched  under the  grey and  silent cliffs  to the feet of Ravenhill.
There the river, after winding  a wide loop over the valley  of Dale, turned
from  the Mountain on its  road to the  Lake, flowing swift and noisily. Its
bank was bare and rocky, tall and steep  above the  stream; and  gazing  out
from it  over the narrow water, foaming and  splashing  among many boulders,
they could see in the  wide  valley shadowed by the Mountain's arms the grey
ruins of ancient houses, towers, and walls.
     "There  lies all  that  is left of Dale," said Balin.  "The  mountain's
sides were green with woods and all  the sheltered  valley rich and pleasant
in the days when the bells  rang in that  town." He looked both sad and grim
as  he  said this: he had been  one  of  Thorin's companions on  the day the
Dragon came.
     They did not dare to follow the  river much further to. wards the Gate;
but  they went on  beyond the end of the southern spur,  until lying  hidden
behind a rock they could look out  and  see the dark  cavernous opening in a
great cliff-wall between  the arms of the Mountain.  Out of it the waters of
the Running River sprang; and out of it too  there came a  steam and a  dark
smoke. Nothing moved  in the waste, save the vapour and the water, and every
now  and again a black and ominous crow. The only sound was the sound of the
stony water,  and  every now  and again the  harsh  croak  of a bird.  Balin
shuddered.
     "Let us return!"  he said. "We can do no good here!--  And I don't like
these dark birds, they look like spies of evil."
     "The dragon is still alive  and in the halls under the Mountain then-or
I imagine so from the smoke," said the hobbit.
     "That does  not prove it," said  Balin, "though I don't  doubt you  are
right. But he might be gone away some time, or he  might be lying out on the
mountain-side keeping watch, and still I expect smokes and steams would come
out of the gates: all the halls within must be filled with his foul reek."

     With such gloomy thoughts, followed ever by croaking  crows above them,
they made their  weary  way back to the  camp. Only  in  June they had  been
guests  in the fair  house  of Elrond,  and though  autumn was now  crawling
towards winter that pleasant time now seemed years ago. They were  alone  in
the perilous waste without hope of further help.  They were  at the  end  of
their journey, but as far as  ever, it  seemed, from the end of their quest.
None of them had much spirit left.
     Now strange to say Mr. Baggins had more than the others. He would often
borrow Thorin's map and gaze at it, pondering over the runes and the message
of the moon-letters Elrond had read. It  was  he that made the dwarves begin
the dangerous search  on the western slopes for the secret  door. They moved
their camp then to a long  valley, narrower than the great dale in the South
where the  Gates  of  the  river stood, and  walled with lower  spurs of the
Mountain. Two of these here thrust  forward west  from the main mass in long
steep-sided  ridges  that fell ever  downwards  towards  the plain. On  this
western  side there  were  fewer signs of the  dragon's marauding  feet, and
there was  some grass for their ponies. From this western camp, shadowed all
day by cliff and wall until the sun began to sink towards the forest, day by
day they toiled in parties searching for paths up the  mountain-side. If the
map was true, somewhere high above the cliff at the valley's head must stand
the secret door. Day by day they came back to their camp without success.
     But at last unexpectedly they  found what  they were seeking. Fili  and
Kili  and the hobbit  went back one  day down the valley and scrambled among
the  tumbled rocks  at its southern corner.  About midday, creeping behind a
great stone that stood alone like a pillar,  Bilbo came  on what looked like
rough steps  going upwards. Following  these  excitedly he  and  the dwarves
found  traces  of  a  narrow  track, often  lost,  often  rediscovered, that
wandered on to the top of the southern ridge  and  brought them at last to a
still narrower ledge, which turned  north  across the face  of the Mountain.
Looking down they saw that they were at the top of the cliff at the valley's
head and were gazing down on to their own camp below.  Silently, clinging to
the  rocky wall on their  right, they  went in single file along  the ledge,
till  the  wall  opened and  they  turned into  a  little  steep-walled bay,
grassy-floored, still and quiet. Its entrance which they had found could not
be seen from below because of the overhang of the  cliff, nor  from  further
off because it was so small that it looked like a dark crack and no more. It
was  not a cave and was open to  the sky above;  but at its inner end a flat
wall rose  up that  in the lower  I part, close to the ground, was as smooth
and upright as mason's work, but without a joint or crevice to be seen.
     "No sign  was there of post or lintel or threshold, nor any sign of bar
or bolt or key-hole; yet they did  not doubt that they had found the door at
last.
     They beat on  it, they  thrust and pushed  at it, they  implored  it to
move, they spoke fragments of broken spells of opening, and nothing stirred.
At last tired out they. rested on the grass at its feet, and then at evening
began, their long climb down.

     There  was  excitement  in  the  camp  that night.  In the morning they
prepared  to move once more. Only Bofur and Bombur were left behind to guard
the ponies and such stores as they had brought with them from the river. The
others went  down the  valley  and up the newly found path,  and  so  to the
narrow ledge. Along this they could carry no bundles or packs, so narrow and
breathless was it, with a fall of a hundred and fifty feet beside them on to
sharp rocks  below; but each of  them took a good  coil of rope wound  tight
about his waist, and so  at  last without  mishap  they  reached  the little
grassy bay.
     There  they made their  third  camp, hauling up  what  they needed from
below with their  ropes. Down the same way they were  able  occasionally  to
lower one of the more active dwarves, such as Kili, to exchange such news as
there was, or to take a share in the guard below, while  Bofur was hauled up
to the higher camp. Bombur would not come up either the rope or the path.
     "I am  too fat for  such fly-walks," he said. "I should turn dizzy  and
tread on  my beard, and then you would be thirteen  again.  And the  knotted
ropes are too slender for my weight." Luckily for him that was  not true, as
you will see.
     In the meanwhile some of them explored the ledge beyond the opening and
found a path that led higher and higher on to the mountain; but they did not
dare to venture  very far  that  way, nor was there much use  in  it. Out up
there a silence reigned, broken by no  bird or sound except that of the wind
in  the  crannies of stone.  They spoke low and never  called  or  sang, for
danger brooded in every rock.
     The others who were  busy  with the  secret  of  the  door  had no more
success. They were too eager to trouble about the runes or the moon-letters,
but tried without  resting  to discover where  exactly in the smooth face of
the rock the door was hidden. They had brought picks and tools of many sorts
from Lake-town, and at first they  tried to  use these. But when they struck
the stone  the handles splintered and  jarred their arms  cruelly,  and  the
steel heads  broke or bent like lead.  Mining work,  they saw clearly was no
good  against the magic  that had  shut this  door; and they grew terrified,
too, of the echoing noise.
     Bilbo found sitting on the doorstep  lonesome and  wearisome-there  was
not a doorstep, of course, really, but they used to call  the little  grassy
space between  the wall and the opening the  "doorstep" in  fun, remembering
Bilbo's words long  ago at the unexpected party  in his hobbit-hole, when he
said they could sit on the doorstep till  they thought of something. And sit
and think they  did, or  wandered  aimlessly about,  and glummer and glummer
they became.
     Their spirits had  risen a little at the discovery of the path, but now
they sank into their boots; and yet they would not give  it  up and go away.
The hobbit was no longer much brighter than the dwarves. He would do nothing
but  sit with  his back to the  rock-face and stare  away  west  through the
opening, over the cliff, over the wide lands to the black wall of  Mirkwood,
and to the distances  beyond, in  which  he sometimes thought he could catch
glimpses of the Misty Mountains small and far. If the dwarves asked him what
he was doing he answered:
     "You said sitting on the  doorstep and thinking would be my job, not to
mention getting inside,  so I  am sitting  and thinking." But I am afraid he
was not thinking much of the  job, but of what lay beyond the blue distance,
the quiet  Western Land and the Hill and  his hobbit-hole under  it. A large
grey  stone lay in the centre  of the grass and he  stared  moodily at it or
watched the  great snails. They seemed to love the  little  shut-in bay with
its walls of cool  rock, and  there were many of  them of huge size crawling
slowly and stickily along its sides.
     "Tomorrow begins the last week of Autumn," said Thorin one day.
     "And winter comes after autumn," said Bifur.
     "And next year after that," said Dwalin, "and our beards will grow till
they hang down the cliff to the valley before anything happens here. What is
our burglar doing for us?
     Since  he  has  got an  invisible  ring, and  ought  to be  a specially
excellent performer now,  I am beginning to  think he  might go  through the
Front Gate and spy things out a bit!"
     Bilbo  heard  this-the  dwarves  were  on the  rocks just :  above  the
enclosure  where he was sitting-and "Good Gracious!" he thought, "so that is
what they are beginning  to  think, is it? It is always poor me that has  to
get them out :  of  their difficulties,  at  least  since  the  wizard left.
Whatever am I going to do? I might have known  that something dreadful would
happen to me  in the end.  I don't  think I  could bear  to see the  unhappy
valley of Dale again, and as for that steaming gate! ! !"
     That night he was very miserable and hardly slept. Next day the dwarves
all  went wandering off  in  various  directions;  some  were exercising the
ponies down below, some  were roving about the mountain-side.  All day Bilbo
sat gloomily in the grassy bay gazing at the stone,  or out west through the
narrow opening. He had a queer feeling that  he was waiting  for  something.
"Perhaps the wizard will suddenly come back today," he thought.
     If he lifted his head he could see a glimpse of  the distant forest. As
the sun turned west there was a gleam of yellow upon its far roof, as if the
light  caught  the last pale leaves. Soon he  saw the orange ball of the sun
sinking towards the level of his eyes. He went to the opening and there pale
and faint was a thin new moon above the rim of Earth. At that very moment he
heard a sharp crack behind him. There on the grey  stone in the grass was an
enormous thrush, nearly  coal black,  its pale yellow  breast  freckled dark
spots. Crack! It had caught a snail and was knocking it on the stone. Crack!
Crack!
     Suddenly Bilbo  understood. Forgetting all danger he stood on the ledge
and hailed the dwarves,  shouting and  paying.  Those that were nearest came
tumbling over the rocks  and as fast as they could along  the ledge  to him,
wondering what on earth  was the matter; the others shouted to be hauled  up
the ropes (except Bombur, of course: he was asleep).
     Quickly Bilbo  explained. They all fell silent: the hobbit  standing by
the grey  stone,  and the dwarves with wagging  beards watching impatiently.
The  sun sank lower and lower, and their hopes fell. It sank  into a belt of
reddened cloud and disappeared. The dwarves groaned,  but still Bilbo  stood
almost  without moving.  The little moon was dipping to the horizon. Evening
was coming on. Then suddenly when their hope was lowest a red ray of the sun
escaped  like a finger through a rent  in the cloud. A gleam  of  light came
straight through the opening into  the bay and fell on the smooth rock-face.
The  old thrush, who had been watching from a high perch with beady eyes and
head cocked on  one side, gave  a sudden trill.  There was a loud attack.  A
flake  of rock split from the  wall and fell. A hole appeared suddenly about
three feet from the ground. Quickly, trembling lest the chance  should fade,
the dwarves rushed to the rock and pushed-in vain.
     "The key! The key!" cried Bilbo. "Where is Thorin?"
     Thorin hurried up.
     "The  key!" shouted Bilbo. "The key that went with  the map! Try it now
while there is still time!"
     Then  Thorin  stepped up and drew the key on  its chain from round  his
neck. He put it to the hole. It fitted and it turned! Snap!  The gleam  went
out, the sun sank, the moon was gone, and evening sprang into the sky.
     Now they all pushed together, and slowly a  part of the  rock-wall gave
way. Long straight cracks appeared and widened.  A door  five  feet high and
three broad was out-  lined, and slowly  without  a  sound swung inwards. It
seemed  as if darkness  flowed  out  like  a vapour  from  the  hole  in the
mountain-side, and deep darkness  in which nothing  could be seen lay before
their eyes mouth leading in and down.

Chapter 12. Inside Information

     For a long  time  the  dwarves  stood in the  dark  before the door and
debated, until at last Thorin spoke:
     "Now is the time for our esteemed Mr. Baggins, who has proved himself a
good companion on  our long road, and a hobbit full of courage  and resource
far exceeding  his size,  and if I may say  so  possessed  of good  luck far
exceeding the usual allowance-now is the time for him to perform the service
for which he was included in our  Company; now is  the time for him  to earn
his Reward."
     You are familiar with Thorin's style on important occasions, so I  will
not give you any more of it, though he went on a good deal longer than this.
It certainly was an important occasion, but Bilbo felt  impatient. By now he
was quite familiar with Thorin too, and he knew what be was driving at.
     "If  you  mean you think  it is my  job to go  into the secret  passage
first, O Thorin Thrain's son Oakenshield, may your  beard grow ever longer,"
he said crossly, "say  so at  once and have done! I might refuse. I have got
you out of two messes already, which were hardly in the original bargain, so
that I  am, I think, already owed some reward. But 'third time pays for all'
as my father used to say, and somehow I don't think I shall  refuse. Perhaps
I have begun to trust my  luck more than I  used to in the old days"  --  he
meant last spring before he left  his own house, but it seemed centuries ago
-- "but anyway I think I will go  and have a peep at once and  get  it over.
Now who is coming with me?"
     He did not expect a chorus of  volunteers, so he  was not disappointed.
Fili and Kili looked uncomfortable and stood on One leg, but the others made
no  pretence of offering  -- except old  Balin.  the  look-out  man, who was
rather fond the hobbit. He said he  would come inside at least and perhaps a
bit of the way too, really to call for help if necessary.
     The most that can be said for the dwarves is this: they intended to pay
Bilbo really handsomely for his services; they had brought him to do a nasty
job for them, and  they did not mind  the poor little fellow doing  it if he
would; but they would all have done their best to get him out of trouble, if
he  got into it, as they did  in the case of the trolls at  the beginning of
their adventures  before they had any particular reasons for  being grateful
to him. There  it is: dwarves are  not heroes, but  calculating  folk with a
great idea of the value of money; some are tricky and treacherous and pretty
bad lots;  some  are  not, but  are  decent  enough people  like  Thorin and
Company, if you don't expect too much.

     The stars were coming out  behind  him in a pale sky  barred with black
when  the  hobbit  crept  through  the  enchanted door  and stole  into  the
Mountain. It  was  far  easier going  than he expected.  This was no  goblin
entrance, or rough wood-elves' cave. It was a  passage  made by  dwarves, at
the height of  their wealth and skill:  straight as  a ruler, smooth-floored
and smooth-sided, going  with a  gentle never-varying  slope  direct-to some
distant end in the blackness below.
     After a while Balin bade Bilbo "Good luck!" and stopped where  he could
still see the faint  outline of  the door,  and by a trick of, the echoes of
the  tunnel hear the rustle  of the whispering  voices  of the  others  just
outside. Then the hobbit  slipped on his ring,  and warned by  the echoes to
take  more than hobbit's  care to make no sound, he crept noiselessly  down,
down,  down into the dark. He was trembling with fear, but his  little  face
was  set and grim. Already  he was a very different hobbit from the one that
had run out without a pocket-handkerchief from Bag-End long  ago. He had not
had a pocket-handkerchief for ages. He loosened  his dagger  in  its sheath,
tightened his belt, and went on.

     "Now you are in  for  it at last, Bilbo  Baggins," he  said to himself.
"You went and put your foot right in it that night of the party, and now you
have got to pull it out and pay for it! Dear me, what  a fool I was and am!"
said the  least  Tookish  part  of  him.  "I  have  absolutely  no  use  for
dragon-guarded  treasures,  and the whole  lot could stay here  for ever, if
only  I could wake up and find this  beastly tunnel was my own front-hall at
home!"
     He did not wake up of course, but went still  on and on, till all  sign
of the door behind had  faded away. He was altogether alone. Soon he thought
it  was beginning to  feel  warm. "Is  that a kind of a  glow  I seem to see
coming right  ahead  down there?" he thought. It was. As he went forward  it
grew and grew, till there was no doubt about it. It was a red light steadily
getting redder and redder.  Also it was  now undoubtedly hot  in the tunnel.
Wisps of vapour floated up and past him and he began to sweat. A sound, too,
began to throb in his ears, a sort of bubbling like the noise of a large pot
galloping on the fire, mixed with a rumble as of a gigantic tom-cat purring.
This grew to  the unmistakable gurgling noise of some vast animal snoring in
its sleep down there in the red glow in front of him.
     It was at this point that Bilbo stopped.  Going on  from there was  the
bravest thing  he ever did.  The  tremendous things that  happened afterward
were  as nothing compared  to it. He fought the real  battle  in the  tunnel
alone,  before he ever saw  the vast danger  that lay  in wait. At  any rate
after a short halt  go on he did; and you can picture him coming  to the end
of the tunnel, an opening of much the same size and shape as the door above.
Through  it peeps  the  hobbit's  little head.  Before  him lies  the  great
bottommost  cellar  or  dungeon-hall of  the  ancient dwarves right  at  the
Mountain's root. It  is almost dark so that its vastaess  can only be  dimly
guessed,  but rising from the near side of the rocky  floor there is a great
glow. The glow of Smaug!

     There  he  lay,  a vast  red-golden dragon, fast asleep; thrumming came
from his jaws and  nostrils,  and wisps of smoke, but  his fires were low in
slumber.  Beneath him, under  all his limbs  and  his huge coiled  tail, and
about him on  all  sides  stretching  away  across the  unseen  floors,  lay
countless  piles  of  precious things, gold wrought and unwrought,  gems and
jewels, and silver red-stained in the ruddy light.
     Smaug lay, with wings folded like an immeasurable bat, turned partly on
one  side, so  that  the  hobbit could see his  underparts and his long pale
belly  crusted  with gems and fragments of gold from his  long lying on  his
costly bed. Behind  him where  the walls were  nearest  could dimly  be seen
coats of mail,  helms and axes, swords and spears hanging; and there in rows
stood great jars and vessels filled with a wealth that could not be guessed.
To say that  Bilbo's breath was taken  away is no description  at all. There
are no words left to express his staggerment, since Men changed the language
that  they learned of elves  in the days when all  the world was  wonderful.
Bilbo had heard tell and  sing of dragon-hoards  before, but the  splendour,
the lust, the glory of such  treasure had never  yet come  home to him.  His
heart  was  filled and  pierced  with enchantment  and  with  the  desire of
dwarves;  and he gazed motionless, almost forgetting the frightful guardian,
at the gold beyond price and count.

     He gazed for what seemed  an age, before drawn almost against his will,
he stole from the shadow  of the doorway, across the  floor to  the  nearest
edge  of the mounds of  treasure. Above him the sleeping dragon  lay, a dire
menace even in his sleep. He grasped a great two-handled cup, as heavy as he
could carry,  and cast one fearful eye upwards. Smaug stirred a wing, opened
a claw, the rumble of his snoring changed its note.
     Then Bilbo fled.  But the dragon did not wake-not yet but  shifted into
other dreams of greed and violence, lying there in his stolen hall while the
little  hobbit toiled back  up  the long tunnel. His heart was beating and a
more fevered shaking was in his legs than when he was going down, but  still
he  clutched the cup,  and his chief thought was:  "I've done it! This  will
show them. 'More like a grocer than a burglar'  indeed! Well, we'll hear  no
more of that."
     Nor did he. Balin  was  overjoyed  to  see the  hobbit  again,  and  as
delighted as he was surprised.  He picked  Bilbo up and carried him out into
the  open air.  It was midnight and  clouds had covered the stars, but Bilbo
lay with his eyes shut, gasping and taking pleasure in the feel of the fresh
air again, and hardly noticing  the  excitement of the dwarves,  or how they
praised  him and patted  him  on the back and put  themselves and  all their
families for generations to come at his service.

     The dwarves were still  passing the cup  from hand to hand  and talking
delightedly of the recovery of their treasure, when suddenly a vast rumbling
woke in the mountain underneath as if it was an old volcano that had made up
its  mind  to  start eruptions once again.  The door behind them  was pulled
nearly to, and blocked from closing with a  stone,  but up the  long  tunnel
came the dreadful echoes, from far down in the  depths, of a bellowing and a
trampling that made the ground beneath them tremble.
     Then  the  dwarves  forgot  their joy and their  confident  boasts of a
moment before  and cowered  down in  fright. Smaug  was still to be reckoned
with. It does not do to leave a live dragon out of your calculations, if you
live near him. Dragons may not have much real use for all  their wealth, but
they know  it to an ounce  as a rule, especially after long  possession; and
Smaug was  no  exception. He  had passed from an  uneasy dream  (in which  a
warrior, altogether insignificant in size but  provided  with a bitter sword
and great courage, figured most unpleasantly) to a doze, and from  a doze to
wide waking. There was a breath of strange air in his cave. Could there be a
draught  from  that  little  hole? He had  never felt  quite happy about it,
though was so small, and now he glared at it in suspicion an wondered why he
had never blocked it up.  Of late he had half fancied he had caught  the dim
echoes of a knocking sound  from far above that came down through it  to his
lair. He stirred and stretched forth his neck to  sniff. Then he missed  the
cup!
     Thieves! Fire! Murder!  Such  a  thing had not happened  since first he
came to  the Mountain! His rage passes description  -- the sort of rage that
is only seen when rich folk that have more than they can enjoy suddenly lose
something that they have long had but have never before used or  wanted. His
fire belched forth, the hall  smoked, he shook the mountain-roots. He thrust
his head in vain at  the little hole, and  then coiling his length together,
roaring like thunder  underground,  he  sped  from his deep lair through its
great door, out into the huge passages of the mountain-palace and up towards
the Front Gate.
     To hunt the whole mountain  till  he had caught the thief  and had torn
and trampled him was  his one  thought. He issued from the  Gate, the waters
rose in fierce whistling  steam, and up  he soared blazing into the  air and
settled  on the mountain-top in a  spout  of  green  and scarlet flame.  The
dwarves heard the awful  rumour of his flight, and they crouched against the
walls  of  the grassy  terrace cringing  under  boulders, hoping somehow  to
escape the frightful eyes of the hunting dragon.
     There they would  have all been killed,  if it had  not been  for Bilbo
once again.  "Quick! Quick!"  he gasped. "The door! The tunnel! It's no good
here."
     Roused by these words they were  just about to creep inside the  tunnel
when Bifur gave  a cry:  "My cousins! Bombur and Bofur -- we have  forgotten
them, they are down in the valley!"
     "They will be slain, and all our ponies too, and all  out stores lost,"
moaned the others. "We can do nothing."
     "Nonsense!" said Thorin, recovering his dignity. "We cannot leave them.
Get inside  Mr. Baggins and Balin, and  you  two  Fili  and Kili-the  dragon
shan't have all of us. Now you others, where are the ropes? Be quick!"
     Those were perhaps  the worst  moments they had  been  through yet. The
horrible  sounds  of Smaug's  anger  were echoing in the  stony  hollows far
above;  at any moment  he might come blazing down or fly  whirling round and
find them there, near the perilous  cliff's edge hauling madly on the ropes.
Up came Bofur, and still all  was safe. Up came Bombur, puffing and  blowing
while the  ropes creaked,  and still all was  safe. Up  came some tools  and
bundles of  stores,  and  then  danger was  upon them.  A whirring noise was
heard.  A  red  light touched the points of standing rocks. The dragon came.
They had  barely time  to  fly back to  the tunnel, pulling and dragging  in
their  bundles,  when  Smaug  came  hurtling from  the  North,  licking  the
mountain-sides  with flame,  beating his great  wings with a  noise  like  a
roaring wind. His hot breath shrivelled the grass before the door, and drove
in  through  the  crack  they had  left and scorched them as  they  lay hid.
Flickering fires leaped up and black rock-shadows danced. Then darkness fell
as he passed again.
     The ponies screamed with terror, burst their ropes and galloped  wildly
off. The dragon swooped and turned to pursue them, and was gone.
     "That'll be the end of our poor beasts!" said Thorin.
     "Nothing can  escape Smaug  once  he  sees it. Here  we are and here we
shall have to stay, unless any one fancies tramping the long open miles back
to the river with Smaug on the watch!"
     It was  not a pleasant thought! They crept further down the tunnel, and
there  they lay  and shivered though it was warm and stuffy, until dawn came
pale through the crack  of  the door. Every now and again  through the night
they could hear the roar of the flying  dragon  grow and then pass and fade,
as he hunted round and round the mountain-sides.
     He guessed  from the  ponies, and  from the traces of the camps he  had
discovered, that men had come up from the  river and the lake and had scaled
the mountain-side  from the valley where the ponies had  been standing;  but
the  door withstood his  searching eye, and  the little high-walled bay  had
kept out his  fiercest flames. Long he  had  hunted in vain  till  the  dawn
chilled his wrath and he  went back to  his golden couch to sleep --  and to
gather new strength.
     He  would not forget or  forgive  the  theft,  not if  a thousand years
turned  him to smouldering  stone,  but he  could afford  to  wait. Slow and
silent he crept back to his lair and half closed his eyes.
     When  morning came the terror  of the dwarves  grew less. They realized
that dangers of this kind  were  inevitable in dealing with such a guardian,
and that it  was no good giving up their quest yet. Nor could they get  away
just now,  as Thorin had pointed out.  Their ponies were lost or killed, and
they  would  have  to  wait  some  time  before  Smaug  relaxed   his  watch
sufficiently  for them to dare the long way on foot.  Luckily they had saved
enough of their stores to last them still for some time.
     They debated long on what was to be done, but  they could  think  of no
way of  getting rid of  Smaug -- which had always been a weak point in their
plans, as  Bilbo felt inclined to point out. Then  as is the nature  of folk
that are thoroughly perplexed, they began  to grumble at the hobbit, blaming
him for  what  had at  first so  pleased them:  for bringing away a  cup and
stirring up Smaug's wrath so soon.
     "What else do you suppose a burglar is to do?"  asked Bilbo angrily. "I
was not  engaged  to kill  dragons, that  is warrior's  work, but  to  steal
treasure. I made the best beginning I could. Did you expect me to  trot back
with the  whole  hoard of Thror on my back? If there is any grumbling to  be
done, I think  I might have  a say.  You ought to have brought  five hundred
burglars not one.  I am sure it reflects great  credit on  your grandfather,
but you cannot  pretend that you  ever made the vast extent  of  his  wealth
clear  to  me. I should want  hundreds of years to bring it all up, if I was
fifty times as big, and Smaug as tame as a rabbit."
     After that of course the dwarves begged his pardon.
     "What  then  do  you propose we  should do, Mr. Baggins?" asked  Thorin
politely.
     "I  have  no  idea  at the moment  -- if  you mean about  removing  the
treasure. That obviously depends entirely  on some new  turn of luck and the
getting rid of Smaug.
     Getting rid of dragons is not at all in my line, but I will do my  best
to think about it. Personally I have no  hopes at  all, and  wish I was safe
back at home."
     "Never mind that for the moment! What are we to do now, to-day?"
     "Well, if you really want my advice, I should say we can do nothing but
stay where we are. By day we can no doubt  creep out safely enough  to  take
the air. Perhaps  before long one or two could  be  chosen to go back to the
store by the river and replenish our supplies. But in the meanwhile everyone
ought to be well inside the tunnel by night.
     "Now I  will  make you an offer. I have got my ring and will creep down
this very noon-then if ever Smaug ought to be napping-and see  what he is up
to.  Perhaps  something will turn up. 'Every worm has  his weak spot,' as my
father used to say, though I am sure it was not from personal experience."
     Naturally the dwarves accepted the offer eagerly. Already they had come
to  respect little  Bilbo.  Now  he  had become  the  real leader  in  their
adventure. He had begun to have ideas and plans of his own. When midday came
he  got ready for another journey down into the Mountain. He did not like it
of course, but  it  was not so bad  now he knew, more  or less, what  was in
front of him. Had he known more about dragons and  their wily ways, he might
have teen more frightened and less hopeful of catching this one napping.
     The sun was shining when he started, but it was as dark as night in the
tunnel. The light from the door, almost  closed, soon faded as he went down.
So  silent  was  his going  that smoke on a  gentle wind  could  hardly have
surpasses it, and he  was inclined to feel a bit proud of himself as he drew
near the lower door. There was only the very fainter glow to be seen.
     "Old  Smaug  is weary and asleep," he thought. "He can't, see me and he
won't hear me.  Cheer up Bilbo!" He had  forgotten or had never heard  about
dragons' sense of smell.
     It  is  also an  awkward fact that they keep half  an eye open watching
while  they  sleep, if they  are  suspicious.  Smaug  certainly  looked fast
asleep, almost dead  and dark,  with  scarcely a snore  more than a whiff of
unseen  steam, when Bilbo  peeped once more  from  the entrance. He was just
about to step out on to the floor when  he caught a sudden thin and piercing
ray of red from  under the  drooping  lid. of Smaug's left eye.  He was only
pretending to  sleep! He  was  watching the tunnel entrance! Hurriedly Bilbo
stepped back and blessed the luck of his ring. Then Smaug spoke.

     "Well, thief! I smell you and I feel your air. I hear your breath. Come
along! Help yourself again, there is plenty and to spare!"
     But Bilbo was not quite so unlearned in dragon-lore as all that, and if
Smaug hoped to get him to come nearer so easily he was disappointed.
     "No thank  you, O  Smaug the. Tremendous!" he replied. "I did not  come
for presents. I only wished to have  a look at you and see if you were truly
as great as tales say. I did not believe them."
     "Do you now?" said  the dragon  somewhat flattered, even though he  did
not believe a word of it. j
     "Truly songs and  tales fall utterly short of the  reality, O Smaug the
Chiefest and Greatest of Calamities," replied Bilbo. I
     You have  nice manners  for  a thief and a liar," said the dragon. "You
seem  familiar with  my  name,  but I  don't seem  to  remember smelling you
before. Who are you and where do you come from, may I ask?"
     "You may  indeed! I come from under the hill, and under  hills and over
the hills my paths led. And through the air, I am he that walks unseen."
     "So  I  can well  believe,"  said Smaug, "but that  is hardly our usual
name."
     "I am the clue-finder, the  web-cutter, the  stinging fly.  I as chosen
for the lucky number."
     "Lovely titles!" sneered the dragon. "But  lucky numbers  don't  always
come off."
     "I am he that buries his friends  alive and drowns them  and draws them
alive again from the water.  I came from  the end of  a bag, but no bag went
over me."
     "These don't sound so creditable," scoffed Smaug.
     "I am the friend  of bears and the guest of eagles. I am Ringwinner and
Luckwearer; and I  am Barrel-rider," went on Bilbo beginning  to be  pleased
with his riddling.
     "That's better!" said Smaug.  "But don't let your  imagination run away
with you!"

     This of  course  is  the way to  talk  to dragons, if you don't want to
reveal your proper name (which is wise), and don't want to infuriate them by
a  flat  refusal  (which is also  very  wise).  No  dragon  can  resist  the
fascination  of riddling talk  and  of wasting time trying to understand it.
There was a lot here which  Smaug did not understand at all (though I expect
you  do, since you  know  all  about  Bilbo's  adventures to  which  he  was
referring), but he  thought he  understood enough,  and he chuckled  in  his
wicked inside.
     "I thought so last night," he smiled to himself. "Lake-men,  some nasty
scheme of those  miserable tub-trading Lake-men,  or I'm a lizard. I haven't
been down that way for an age and an age; but I will soon alter that!"
     "Very  well, O Barrel-rider!"  he  said aloud.  "Maybe Barrel  was your
pony's name; and maybe  not, though  it was fat enough. You may walk unseen,
but  you  did not walk all the way. Let me  tell  you I ate six  ponies last
night and I  shall  catch and eat  all the others before long. In return for
the excellent meal I will give you one piece of advice for your good:  don't
have more to do with dwarves than you can help!"
     "Dwarves!" said Bilbo in pretended surprise.
     "Don't  talk to  me!"  said  Smaug. "I  know  the  smell (and taste) of
dwarf-no  one better. Don't tell me that I can  eat a  dwarf-ridden pony and
not know it! You'll come  to a bad end, if  you go with  such friends. Thief
Barrel-rider. I don't mind if you go back and tell them so from me."
     But  he did not tell Bilbo that there was one  smell he could not  make
out  at all, hobbit-smell; it was quite  outside his  experience and puzzled
him mightily.
     "I suppose you  got  a fair price for that cup last night?" he went on.
"Come  now, did  you?  Nothing at  all! Well, that's  just  like them. And I
suppose they are skulking outside, and  your  job is to do all the dangerous
work and get what you can when I'm not looking-for them? And  you will get a
fair share? Don't you believe it! If you get off alive, you will be lucky."

     Bilbo was now beginning to feel  really uncomfortable. Whenever Smaug's
roving eye, seeking for him in the shadows, flashed across him, he trembled,
and an  unaccountable desire seized hold  of  him  to  rush  out  and reveal
himself and tell all the truth to  Smaug.  In fact he was in grievous danger
of coming under the dragon-spell. But plucking up courage he spoke again.
     "You  don't  know everything,  O Smaug the  Mighty," said he. "Not gold
alone brought us hither."
     "Ha! Ha! You admit the 'us'," laughed Smaug. "Why not say 'us fourteen'
and be done with it. Mr. Lucky Number?  I  am pleased  to  hear that you had
other business  in  these  parts besides  my gold.  In that  case  you  may,
perhaps, not altogether waste your time.
     "I  don't know if it has occurred to you that, even  if you could steal
the gold bit by bit-a matter of a  hundred years  or so -- you could not get
it very  far? Not much use on the mountain-side? Not much use in the forest?
Bless me! Had you never thought of the catch? A fourteenth share, I suppose,
Or  something like it,  those were  the terms, eh?  But what about delivery?
What about cartage? What about armed guards and  tolls?"  And Smaug  laughed
aloud. He  had  a wicked and a wily  heart, and he knew his guesses were not
far out,  though  he  suspected that the  Lake-men  were at  the back of the
plans, and that  most of the  plunder was meant to stop there in the town by
the shore that in his young days had been called Esgaroth.
     You will hardly believe it, but poor Bilbo was really very taken aback.
So far all  his. thoughts  and energies had been concentrated on  getting to
the  Mountain and finding the entrance. He had never bothered to wonder  how
the  treasure was to  be removed, certainly  never how any part of  it  that
might fall to his share  was  to  be  brought  back  all the way to  Bag-End
Under-Hill.
     Now  a  nasty suspicion  began to  grow  in his  mind-had  the  dwarves
forgotten this important point too, or were  they laughing  in their sleeves
at  him  all the  time? That is  the effect  that  dragon-talk  has  on  the
inexperienced.  Bilbo  of course ought to have  been on his guard; but Smaug
had rather an overwhelming personality.
     "I tell you," he said, in an effort to remain loyal to  his friends and
to keep his  end up, "that gold was  only an afterthought with  us. We  came
over hill and under hill,  by wave and win, for Revenge. Surely, O Smaug the
unassessably wealthy,  you must realize that your  success has made you some
bitter enemies?"
     Then Smaug really  did  laugh-a  devastating sound which shook Bilbo to
the floor,  while  far up in the tunnel  the  dwarves huddled  together  and
imagined that the hobbit had come to a sudden and a nasty end.
     "Revenge!" he snorted, and the light of his eyes lit  the the hall from
floor to  ceiling  like  scarlet  lightning. "Revenge! The  King  under  the
Mountain is dead and where are hi kin that dare seek revenge? Girion Lord of
Dale is dead, and I have eaten his people like a wolf among sheep, and where
are his sons' sons that dare approach me? I  kill where I wish and none dare
resist. I laid low  the warriors of old  and their like is not in  the world
today. Then I was  but young and  tender.  Now I  am old  and strong, strong
strong.  Thief  in the Shadows!"  he  gloated. "My armour  is  like  tenfold
shields,  my  teeth are swords,  my claws  spears, the  shock  of my tail  a
thunderbolt, my wings a hurricane, and my breath death!"
     "I have always understood," said  Bilbo in  a frightened  squeak, "that
dragons were softer underneath, especially  in the region of the--er--chest;
but doubtless one so fortified has thought of that."
     The  dragon  stopped  short  in  his  boasting.  "Your  information  is
antiquated," he snapped. "I am armoured above and below with iron scales and
hard gems. No blade can pierce me."
     "I  might  have guessed  it," said Bilbo. "Truly there can; nowhere  be
found the equal of Lord Smaug the Impenetrable. What magnificence to possess
a waistcoat of fine diamonds!"
     "Yes, it  is  rare and wonderful, indeed," said Smaug absurdly pleased.
He did not know that the hobbit had already caught a glimpse of his peculiar
under-covering  on his previous visit, and was itching for a closer view for
reasons of his  own. The dragon  rolled  over. "Look!" he said. "What do you
say to that?"
     "Dazzlingly marvellous! Perfect! Flawless! Staggering!" exclaimed Bilbo
aloud, but what he thought inside was: "Old fool! Why there is a large patch
in the hollow of his left breast as bare as a snail out of its shell!"
     After he had seen that Mr. Baggins'  one idea was to get away. "Well, I
really must not detain Your Magnificence any longer," he said, "or keep  you
from much needed rest. Ponies take some catching,  I believe, after  a  long
start. And so do burglars,"  he added as a  parting shot, as he  darted back
and fled up the tunnel.
     It  was an unfortunate remark, for  the dragon spouted  terrific flames
after him, and fast though he sped up the slope, he had  not gone nearly far
enough to be comfortable before the ghastly head of Smaug was thrust against
the opening  behind. Luckily  the whole  head and jaws could not squeeze in,
but the nostrils sent forth fire and vapour to pursue him, and he was nearly
overcome, and stumbled  blindly on  in great  pain  and fear.  He  had  been
feeling  rather pleased with  the cleverness of his conversation with Smaug,
but his mistake at the end shook him into better sense.
     "Never laugh at live  dragons, Bilbo you fool!" he said to himself, and
it became a favourite saying of his  later, and  passed into a proverb. "You
aren't  nearly  through this  adventure  yet," he added, and that was pretty
true as well.

     The afternoon  was  turning into evening  when  he  came  out again and
stumbled and fell  in a faint on the 'door-step.'  The dwarves revived  him,
and  doctored  his  scorches as well as they  could;  but it was a long time
before the hair on the back of  his head and  his heels grew properly again:
it had all been singed and frizzled right down to the skin. In the meanwhile
his  friends  did  their  best to cheer him up; and they were  eager for his
story, especially  wanting to know  why the dragon had  made such  an  awful
noise, and how Bilbo had escaped.
     But the  hobbit was  worried and uncomfortable, and they had difficulty
in  getting  anything  out  of  him. On thinking  things  over  he  was  now
regretting some of the things he had said to the  dragon,  and was not eager
to repeat them.  The old  thrush was sitting on a rock near by with his head
cocked on one side,  listening to all  that  was  said. It shows what an ill
temper Bilbo was in: he picked up a stone and threw  it at the thrush, which
merely fluttered aside and came back.
     "Drat  the bird!" said Bilbo crossly. "I believe he is listening, and I
don't like the look of him."
     "Leave  him  alone!"  said   Thorin.   "The  thrushes  are   good   and
friendly-this is a very old  bird indeed, and is maybe the last left of  the
ancient breed that  used to live about here, tame to the hands  of my father
and  grandfather. They were  a long-lived and magical race, and  this  might
even be one  of those that were alive then,  a couple  of hundreds  years or
more ago. The Men  of  Dale  used to  have  the trick of understanding their
language, and  used  them for messengers  to fly to the Men of  the Lake and
elsewhere."
     "Well, he'll have news to  take to Lake-town all right, if that is what
he is after," said Bilbo; "though I don't suppose there are any  people left
there that trouble with thrush-language."
     "Why what has happened?" cried the dwarves. "Do get on with your tale!"
     So Bilbo told them all he could remember, and he confessed that  he had
a nasty feeling that the dragon guessed too much from his  riddles  added to
the camps and the ponies. "I am sure he knows we came from Lake-town and had
help from there; and I have a horrible feeling that his next move may be  in
that direction. I wish to goodness I had never said that about Barrel-rider;
it would make even a blind rabbit in these parts think of the Lake-men."
     "Well, well! It cannot  be helped, and it is difficult not  to slip  in
talking  to  a dragon, or so I  have always  heard," said  Balin  anxious to
comfort  him. "I think  you did very  well, if you  ask me-you found out one
very useful thing  at any  rate, and got  home alive, and that is more  than
most can say who have had words  with the likes of Smaug. It may  be a mercy
and  a  blessing yet  to know of the  bare patch in the  old Worm's  diamond
waistcoat."
     That  turned   the  conversation,  and   they  all   began   discussing
dragon-slayings historical, dubious, and mythical, and the various sorts  of
stabs and jabs and undercuts, and the different arts, devices and stratagems
by which they had been accomplished. The general opinion was that catching a
dragon napping was not  as easy as it sounded, and the attempt to  stick one
or prod one asleep was more  likely to end in disaster  than  a bold frontal
attack. All the while they talked the thrush listened, till at last when the
stars began to  peep forth, it silently spread its wings and flew  away. And
all the while they  talked and  the shadows lengthened Bilbo became more and
more unhappy and his foreboding
     At  last  he interrupted them. "I am sure we are  very unsafe here," he
said,  "and I don't see the point of sitting here.  The dragon has  withered
all the pleasant green, and  anyway the night has come and it is cold. But I
feel it in my  bones that this place will be attacked again. Smaug knows now
how I came  down to his hall, and you can trust him to guess where the other
end of the tunnel is. He will break all  this side of  the Mountain to bits,
if  necessary, to stop up our entrance,  and  if  we are smashed with it the
better he will like it."
     "You are  very  gloomy, Mr. Baggins!" said Thorin. "Why has  not  Smaug
blocked the lower end, then, if he is so eager to keep us  out? He  has not,
or we should have heard him."
     "I don't know, I don't know-because at first he wanted  to try and lure
me  in again,  I  suppose, and now  perhaps because he is waiting till after
tonight's hunt, or because he does not want to damage his  bedroom if he can
help it -- but I wish you would not  argue. Smaug will be coming  out at any
minute now, and  our only  hope is to  get well  in  the tunnel and shut the
door."
     He seemed so  much in earnest that the dwarves at last did as he  said,
though they delayed shutting the door-it seemed a desperate plan, for no one
knew whether or how they could get it open  again from  the inside,  and the
thought of being shut in a place from which the only way out led through the
dragon's  lair was not one  they liked.  Also everything seemed quite quiet,
both outside and down the tunnel. So for a longish while they sat inside not
far down from the half-open door and went on talking. The talk turned to the
dragon's  wicked words about  the dwarves.  Bilbo wished he had never  heard
them, or at least that he could feel quite certain that the dwarves now were
absolutely  honest  when  they  declared that they had never thought  at all
about what would happen after the treasure had been won.
     "We knew it would be a desperate  venture,"  said Thorin, "and  we know
that still; and I still think  that when we have won it will  be time enough
to think what to do about it. As for  your  share, Mr. Baggins, I assure you
we are  more than grateful and  you shall choose you own fourteenth, as soon
as we have anything to divide, am sorry if you  are worried about transport,
and I  admit the difficulties are great-the lands have not become less  wild
with the passing of time, rather the reverse-but we will  do whatever we can
for  you, and take our  share of the cost when the time comes. Believe me or
not as you like!"
     From that the talk turned to the great  hoard itself and  to the things
that Thorin  and Balin  remembered. They wondered  if they were  still lying
there .unharmed in the hall below:  the spears that were made for the armies
of  the great King Bladorthin  (long  since dead), each had a  thrice-forged
head and  their  shafts were inlaid with cunning gold, but  they  were never
delivered or paid for; shields made for warriors long dead; the great golden
cup of  Thror, two-handed, hammered and carven with birds  and flowers whose
eyes  and  petals were  of jewels;  coats of mail  gilded  and  silvered and
impenetrable; the  necklace  of  Girion, Lord of  Dale, made of five hundred
emeralds green as grass, which he gave for the arming of his eldest son in a
coat of dwarf-linked rings the like of which had never been made before, for
it was wrought of pure silver to the power and strength of triple steel. But
fairest of all was  the great white gem, which the dwarves had found beneath
the roots of  the Mountain,  the Heart  of the Mountain,  the  Arkenstone of
Thrain.
     "The  Arkenstone!  The  Arkenstone!" murmured Thorin in  the dark, half
dreaming with his chin upon his  knees. "It was like a globe with a thousand
facets;  it shone like silver in the firelight, like water in the  sun, like
snow under the stars, like rain upon the Moon!"
     But  the  enchanted  desire  of  the hoard had  fallen  from Bilbo. All
through their talk he was only half listening to them. He sat nearest to the
door with one ear  cocked for  any beginnings of a sound without,  his other
was alert or echoes beyond the murmurs  of the dwarves, for any whisper of a
movement from far below.
     Darkness grew  deeper and he grew ever more uneasy. "Shut the door!" he
begged them. "I fear that  dragon in my marrow. I like this silence far less
than the uproar of last night. Shut the door before it is too late!"
     Something  in  his  voice gave  the  dwarves  an uncomfortable feeling.
Slowly  Thorin shook off his dreams and getting up  he kicked away the stone
that wedged the  door. Then  they thrust upon it, and  it closed with a snap
and a  clang. No trace of a keyhole was there  left on the inside. They were
shut in the Mountain!
     And not a moment  too  soon. They had hardly gone any distance down the
tunnel  when  a blow  smote the  side  of  the  Mountain like the  crash  of
battering-rams made of forest oaks and swung by giants. The rock boomed, the
walls cracked and stones fell from  the roof on their heads. What would have
happened if the door had still been open  I don't like to think.  They  fled
further down the  tunnel glad to  be still alive, while behind them  outside
they heard the roar and rumble of  Smaug's  fury. He was breaking  rocks  to
pieces,  smashing  wall and cliff with the  lashings of his huge  tail, till
their little  lofty camping  ground, the scorched grass, the thrush's stone,
the snail-covered walls, the  narrow ledge, and all  disappeared in a jumble
of smithereens, and an avalanche of splintered  stones fell over  the  cliff
into the valley below.
     Smaug had left his lair in silent stealth, quietly soared into the air,
and  then floated heavy and slow in the dark like a monstrous crow, down the
wind  towards the west of  the  Mountain, in the hopes of  catching unawares
something or  somebody there,  and of spying the outlet to the passage which
the thief had used.  This was the outburst of his wrath  when he  could find
nobody and see nothing, even where he guessed the outlet must actually be.
     After he had let off his rage in this way he felt better and he thought
in his heart that he would not be troubled again from that direction. In-the
meanwhile he had  further  vengeance to  take. "Barrel-rider!"  he  snorted.
"Your fee came from the  waterside  and up  the water  you came with  out  a
doubt. I don't know your smell, but if  you are not one of  those men of the
Lake,  you had their help. They shall  see me  and remember  who is the real
King under the Mountain!"
     He rose in fire and went away south towards the Running River.

Chapter 13. Not at Home

     In the meanwhile,  the  dwarves sat in darkness, and utter silence fell
about them. Little they  ate and little they spoke. They could not count the
passing of time; and they scarcely dared to move, for the  whisper of  their
voices echoed and  rustled in the tunnel. If they dozed, they  woke still to
darkness and  to  silence going on  unbroken. At last after days and days of
waiting, as it seemed, when they were  becoming choked and dazed for want of
air,  they  could bear it no longer.  They would almost have welcomed sounds
from  below of the dragon's return. In the silence  they feared some cunning
devilry of his, but they could not sit there for ever.
     Thorin spoke: "Let us try the door!" he said.  "I must feel the wind on
my face soon or die. I think I would rather be smashed by Smaug in  the open
than suffocate in here!"
     So several of the dwarves got up and groped  back to where the door had
been. But they found that the upper end of the tunnel had been shattered and
blocked with broken rock. Neither key nor the magic it had once obeyed would
ever open that door again.
     "We are trapped!" they groaned. "This is the end. We shall die here."
     But  somehow, just when the  dwarves were most despairing, Bilbo felt a
strange  lightening of the heart, as  if a heavy weight had  gone from under
his waistcoat.
     "Come, come!" he said. "While there's life  there's hope!" as my father
used  to say, and 'Third time pays for all.' I am going down the tunnel once
again.  I have  been that way  twice, when I knew there was  a dragon at the
other end, so I will risk a third visit when I am no longer sure. Anyway the
only way out is down. And I think time you had better all come with me."
     In desperation  they agreed, and  Thorin  was the  first go  forward by
Bilbo's side.
     "Now do be careful!" whispered the hobbit,  "and  quiet as you  can be!
There may be no  Smaug at the  bottom but then again there may be. Don't let
us take any unnecessary risks!"
     Down, down they went. The dwarves  could  not, course, compare with the
hobbit in real stealth,  and the made a deal of puffing and  shuffling which
echoes magnified alarmingly; but though every  now and again Bilbo  in  fear
stopped and  listened, not a sound stirred below Near the bottom, as well as
he could judge, Bilbo  slipped on his ring and  went  ahead. But he  did not
need it: the  darkness was complete, and they were all invisible, ring or no
ring.  In  fact  so  black  was it  that the  hobbit  came  to  the  opening
unexpectedly, put  his  hand on air, stumbled for ward, and rolled  headlong
into the hall!
     There he lay face downwards on the floor and did  no dare to get up, or
hardly even  to  breathe.  But  nothing  moved.  There  was not a  gleam  of
light-unless,  as seemed  to  him, when at  last  he slowly raised his head,
there was  a pale white glint,  above  him  and far  off in  the gloom.  But
certainly it was not a spark of dragon-fire, though the wormstench was heavy
in the place, and the taste of vapour was on his tongue.
     At length Mr. Baggins could bear it no longer. "Come  found you, Smaug,
you worm!" he  squeaked aloud. "Stop playing hide-and-seek! Give me a light,
and then eat me if you can catch me!"
     Faint echoes ran round the  unseen hall, but there was no answer. Bilbo
got up, and found that he did not know in what direction to turn.
     "Now I  wonder what on earth Smaug is playing at," he said. "He  is not
at  home today (or tonight,  or whatever it  is),  I do believe. If  Oin and
Gloin have not lost their  time tinder-boxes, perhaps we can make  a  little
light, and have a look round before the luck turns."
     "Light!" he cried. "Can anybody make a light?"
     The dwarves,  of course, were very alarmed when Bilbo fell forward down
the step with a bump  into the  hall, and they sat huddled just where he had
left them at the end the tunnel.
     "Sh!  sh!"  they hissed,  when they  heard  his voice: and  though that
helped the hobbit to find out where they were, was some time before he could
get anything else out of them. But in the end, when  Bilbo actually began to
stamp in the floor, and screamed out light!' at the top of his thrill voice,
Thorin gave way, and Oin  and Gloin were sent back to  their bundles at  the
top of the tunnel. After a while a twinkling gleam showed them returning, in
with a  small pine-torch alight  in  his  hand,  and  Gloin with a bundle of
others under his arm. Quickly Bilbo trotted to the door and took  the torch;
but  he could not persuade  the  dwarves to light the others or to  come and
join  him  yet.  As  Thorin  carefully  explained,  Mr.  Baggins  was  still
officially their  expert burglar and  investigator.  If he  liked to  risk a
light, that was his affair. They would wait in the tunnel for his report. So
they sat near the door and watched.
     They saw the little dark shape  of the hobbit  start  across  the floor
holding  his tiny light aloft. Every now and  again, while he was still near
enough, they caught a  glint  and a tinkle  as he  stumbled  on  some golden
thing. The light grew  smaller as  he wandered away into the vast hall; then
it began to rise dancing into the air. Bilbo was climbing the great mound of
treasure.  Soon he stood upon the top,  and still went on. Then they saw him
halt and stoop for  a moment; but they did not know the  reason.  It was the
Arkenstone,  the  Heart  of  the  Mountain. So Bilbo guessed  from  Thorin's
description;  but indeed  there could  not  be  two such  gems,  even in  so
marvellous a hoard,  even in  all the  world. Ever  as  he climbed, the same
white gleam had  shone before him and drawn his feet towards Slowly  it grew
to a little globe of pallid light. Now  as came near, it  was  tinged with a
flickering sparkle of  man colours at the surface, reflected and  splintered
from the wavering light of his torch. At last  he looked down upon it and he
caught his  breath. The great  jewel shone before  he feet  of its own inner
light,  and yet, cut and fashioned  by the dwarves, who had dug it  from the
heart  of  the mountain  long  ago, it  took  all light  that fell  upon  it
and-changes it into  ten thousand sparks of white radiance  shot with glints
of the rainbow.
     Suddenly Bilbo's arm went towards it drawn by it enchantment. His small
hand would not  close  about  it for  it was a large  and heavy gem; but  he
lifted it, shut his eyes, and put it in his deepest pocket.
     "Now I am a burglar indeed!" thought he. "But I suppose I must tell the
dwarves  about it-some time. The  did  say  I could  pick and choose  my own
share; and I think I would choose this, if they took all the rest!" All  the
same  he had  an uncomfortable feeling that the picking and choosing had not
really been meant to include this marvellous gem, and that trouble would yet
come of it. Now he went on  again. Down the other side of the great mound he
climbed, and the spark of his torch vanished from the  sight of the watching
dwarves. But  soon they saw it far  away  in  the  distance again. Bilbo was
crossing the floor of the hall.
     He went on,  until he came  to the great doors at the further side, and
there a draught of air refreshed him, but it almost puffed out his light. He
peeped timidly through and caught a glimpse of great passages and of the dim
beginnings of wide stairs  going up into the  gloom. And still  there was no
sight  nor sound of Smaug. He  was just going to turn and  go  back, when  a
black shape swooped at him  and brushed  his  face. He squeaked and started,
stumbled backwards and fell. His torch dropped head downwards and went out!
     "Only a bat, I suppose and  hope!" he said miserably. But now what am I
to do? Which is East, South, North West?"
     "Thorin! Balin!  Oin! Gloin! Fill! Kili!" he cried  as loud he could-it
seemed a  thin little noise  in the  wide blackness. "The light's  gone out!
Someone come and find  and help me!"  For the moment his courage had  failed
together.
     Faintly the dwarves heard his  small cries,  though  the only word they
could catch was 'help!'
     "Now what  on earth or under it has happened?" said Thorin.  "Certainly
not the dragon, or he would not go on squeaking."
     They waited a  moment or two, and still there were no dragon-noises, no
sound at  all  in fact but Bilbo's distant  voice.  "Come, one of  you,  get
another light or two!" Thorin ordered. "It seems we have got to go  and help
our burglar."
     "It is about our turn  to help," said Balin, "and I am quite willing to
go. Anyway I expect it is safe for the moment."
     Gloin  lit several more  torches, and then they  all crept out,  one by
one, and went  along the wall  as hurriedly as they  could. It was  not long
before they met Bilbo himself coming back towards them. His wits had quickly
returned soon as he saw the twinkle of their lights.
     "Only a  bat and a dropped torch, nothing  worse!" he said in answer to
their questions. Though they  were much relieved, they were inclined  to  be
grumpy at being frightened for nothing; but what they would have said, if he
had told them at  that  moment about the Arkenstone,  I don't know. The mere
fleeting glimpses of treasure  which they  had caught as they went along had
rekindled all  the fire of their dwarvish  hearts; and when the  heart of  a
dwarf, even the most respectable, is wakened by gold and by jewels, he grows
suddenly bold, and he may become fierce.
     The dwarves  indeed no longer needed any urging. All  were now eager to
explore the hall while they had the chance, and willing to believe that, for
the present, Smaug was away from home. Each now gripped a lighted torch; and
as they  gazed, first  on one side and then on another, they forgot fear and
even caution. They spoke aloud, and cried out to one another, as they lifted
old treasures from the mound or from  the  wall and  held  them in the light
caressing and fingering them. Fili and Kili  were almost  in merry mood, and
finding still hanging  there many golden harps strung  with silver they took
them and struck them; and being magical  (and also untouched  by the dragon,
who had small interests in music) they were still in tune. The dark hall was
filled with a melody that had long been silent. But most of the dwarves were
more practical; they gathered gems and  stuffed their pockets, and  let what
they  could not carry far back through their fingers with a sigh. Thorin was
not  least  among these;  but always  he  searched  from side  to  side  for
something which he could not find. It was the Arkenstone but  he spoke of it
yet to no one.
     Now the  dwarves took down mail and weapons from the  walls, and  armed
themselves. Royal  indeed did Thorin look, clad  in  a  coat  of gold-plated
rings, with a silver hafted axe in a belt crusted with scarlet stones.
     "Mr. Baggins!"  he cried. "Here  is the  first payment  of your reward!
Cast off your old coat and put on this!"
     With that he put on Bilbo a  small coat of mail, wrought for some young
elf-prince  long  ago. It was of silver-steel which the elves call  mithril,
and  with  it  went a  belt of  pearls and crystals. A light helm of figured
leather,  strengthened  beneath with  hoops of steel, and  studded about the
bring with white gems, was set upon the hobbit's head.
     "I feel magnificent," he thought; "but I  expect I look rather  absurd.
How  they  would laugh  on  the  Hill  at home  Still I  wish  there  was  a
looking-glass handy!"
     All the same Mr. Baggins kept his head more clear of the bewitchment of
the hoard  than  the  dwarves did.  Long  before the dwarves  were  tired of
examining the treasures he became wary of it and  sat down on the floor; and
he began to wonder nervously what the end of it all would be
     "I would give  a good many of these precious  goblets,  thought, "for a
drink of something cheering out of one Beorn's wooden bowls!"
     "Thorin!" he  cried aloud. "What  next? We are armed, but what good has
any armour ever been before against Smaug the Dreadful? This treasure is not
yet won back. We are not looking for gold yet, but  for a way of escape; and
we have tempted luck too long!"
     '"You speak  the truth!" answered Thorin, recovering his  wits. "Let us
go! I  will guide you.  Not in a thousand  years should I forget the ways of
this palace." Then he hailed  the  others,  and they gathered together,  and
holding their  torches  above  their heads they passed  through  the  gaping
doors, not without many a backward glance of longing.
     Their glittering mail they had covered again with their old  cloaks and
their  bright helms with their tattered  hoods, and one  by  one they walked
behind  Thorin, a line of  little lights in the  darkness that halted often,
listening in fear  once  more for any rumour of  the dragon's coming. Though
all the old adornments were long mouldered or  destroyed, and though all was
befouled and blasted with the comings and goings of the monster, Thorin knew
every passage and every turn. They climbed long  stairs, and turned and went
down wide echoing  ways, and turned  again and climbed yet more stairs,  and
yet more' stairs again.
     These were smooth, cut out  of  the living rock broad and lair; and up,
up, the dwarves went, and they met no sign of any living thing, only furtive
shadows that  fled from  the approach  of their torches  fluttering  in  the
draughts. The steps  were not made, all the same, for hobbit-legs, and Bilbo
was just  feeling  that he could  go  on  no longer, when suddenly the  roof
sprang high and far beyond the reach  of their torch-light.  A white glimmer
could  be seen  coming through some  opening  far above, and  the air  smelt
sweeter. Before them light came dimly through great doors, that hung twisted
on their hinges and half burnt.
     "This  is  the  great  chamber of  Thror,"  said Thorin;  "the  hall of
feasting and of council. Not far off now is the Front Gate."
     They  passed through the  ruined  chamber.  Tables  were rotting there;
chairs and benches were lying there overturned, charred and decaying. Skulls
and  bones  were  upon  the  floor  among  flagons  and  bowls  and   broken
drinking-horns and dust. As they  came through yet more doors at the further
end, a sound of water fell upon their ears, and the grey light grew suddenly
more full.
     "There is the birth of the Running River,"  said Thorin.  "From here it
hastens to the Gate. Let us follow it!"
     Out of a  dark opening in a wall of rock there issued a boiling  water,
and it flowed  swirling  in a narrow  channel,  carved and made straight and
deep by the cunning of ancient hands. Beside it ran a stone-paved road, wide
enough for many  men  abreast. Swiftly  along  this  they ran,  and round  a
wide-sweeping turn-and behold! before them stood  the broad light of day. In
front there rose a tall arch, still showing the fragments of old carven work
within, worn and splintered and blackened though it  was. A  misty  sun sent
its pale light between the arms of  the Mountain, and beams of gold fell  on
the pavement at the threshold.
     A  whirl  of bats frightened  from  slumber by  their  smoking  torches
flurried over them; as  they sprang forward  their feet  slithered on stones
rubbed smooth and slimed by the passing of the  dragon. Now before  them the
water fell  noisily outward and foamed down towards the valley.  They  flung
their pale  torches to the ground, and stood gazing  out  with dazzled eyes.
They were come to the Front Gate, and were looking out upon Dale.
     "Well!"  said Bilbo,  "I never expected to be looking out of this door.
And I never expected to be so pleased to see  the sun again, and to feel the
wind on my face. But, ow! this wind is cold!"
     It was. A bitter easterly breeze blew with a threat of oncoming winter.
It swirled over  and  round the arms of  the  Mountain into  the valley, and
sighed among the rocks. After their long time in the stewing  depths  of the
dragon-haunted  caverns, they shivered in the  sun. Suddenly Bilbo  realized
that he was not only tired but also very hungry indeed. "It seems to be late
morning," he said, "and so I suppose it is more or less breakfast-time -- if
there is any breakfast to have. But I don't feel that Smaug's front doorstep
is the safest place for a meal. Do let's go somewhere where we can sit quiet
for a bit!"
     "Quite right!" said  Balin. "And I think I know which way we should go:
we ought to make  for  the old  look-out post at the Southwest corner of the
Mountain."
     "How far is that?" asked the hobbit.
     "Five  hours march, I should  think. It will be  rough going. The  road
from  the Gate  along the left edge of  the stream seems all broken  up. But
look down there!  The river loops suddenly east across Dale in front  of the
ruined town. At that point there was  once a bridge, leading to steep stairs
that climbed up the right bank,  and so to a road running towards Ravenhill.
There is (or was)  a path that left the road and  climbed  up to the post. A
hard climb, too, even if the old steps are still there."
     "Dear me!" grumbled the hobbit. "More walking and more climbing without
breakfast! I wonder  how many  breakfasts, and other meals,  we  have missed
inside that nasty clockless, timeless hole?"
     As a matter of fact two nights and the day between had gone by (and not
altogether without food) since the dragon smashed the magic door, but  Bilbo
had quite  lost count, and it might have been one night or  a week of nights
for all he could tell.
     "Come,  come!"  said Thorin laughing -- his  spirits had  begun to rise
again,  and he  rattled the  precious stones in his  pockets. "Don't call my
place a nasty hole! You wait till it has been cleaned and redecorated!"
     "That won't be till Smaug's dead," said Bilbo glumly. "In the meanwhile
where  is he?  I would give a good breakfast to know. I hope he is not up on
the Mountain looking down at us!"

     That idea disturbed the dwarves mightily, and they quickly decided that
Bilbo and Balin were right.
     "We must move away from here," said Don. "I feel as if his eyes were on
the back of my head."
     "It's  a  cold lonesome place," said Bombur. "There may be drink, but I
see no sign of food. A dragon would always be hungry in such parts."
     "Come on! Come on!" cried the others. "Let us follow Balm's path!"
     Under the rocky wall to the right there was no path, so on they trudged
among the  stones  on the  left  side of  the river,  and  the emptiness and
desolation soon sobered even Thorin again. The bridge  that Balin had spoken
of they found long fallen,  and most of its stones were now only boulders in
the shallow noisy stream; but they forded the water without much difficulty,
and found the ancient steps, and climbed the high bank.  After going a short
way they struck the old road, and before long came to a deep  dell sheltered
among the rocks; there they rested  for a  while and had such a breakfast as
they could, chiefly cram and water. (If you want to know what cram is, I can
only say  that I don't know the recipe; but  it is  biscuitish,  keeps  good
indefinitely,  is  supposed   to  be   sustaining,  and  is  certainly   not
entertaining, being in fact very uninteresting except as a chewing exercise.
It was made by the Lake-men for long journeys).
     After that they  went  on again; and now the road  struck westwards and
left the river, and  the great shoulder of  the south-pointing mountain-spur
drew ever nearer. At length they reached the hill path. It scrambled steeply
up, and they plodded slowly one behind the  other, till at last  in the late
afternoon they came  to the top of the  ridge and saw the  wintry  sun going
downwards to the West.
     Here they found a flat place without a wall on  three sides, but backed
to the North by a rocky face in which there was an opening like a door. From
that door there was a wide view East and South and West.
     "Here," said Balin, "in the old  days we used always to  keep watchmen,
and that door behind leads  into a rock-hewn chamber that was made here as a
guardroom. There were several places like  it round the Mountain. But  there
seemed small need for watching in the days of our prosperity, and the guards
were made  over comfortable, perhaps -- otherwise we might  have  had longer
warnings of the  coming of the dragon, and things might have been different.
Still, "here we can now  lie hid and sheltered for a while, and can see much
without being seen."
     "Not  much use, if we have been seen  coming here," said  Dori, who was
always looking  up  towards the Mountain's  peak, as  if  he expected to see
Smaug perched there like a bird on a steeple.
     "We must take our chance of that," said Thorin.  "We  can go no further
to-day."
     "Hear, hear!" cried Bilbo, and flung himself on the ground.
     In the rock-chamber there would have been room for a hundred, and there
was a  small chamber further in, more removed  from the cold outside. It was
quite deserted; not even wild animals seemed to have used it in all the days
of  Smaug's  dominion.  There  they  laid  their  burdens;  and  some  threw
themselves down at once and slept, but  the others sat near  the outer  door
and discussed their plans.
     In all their  talk they came perpetually  back to  one thing: where was
Smaug? They looked West and there was nothing, and East there  was  nothing,
and in the South there was no sign of the dragon, but there was a  gathering
of very many birds. At that they gazed and wondered; but they were no nearer
understanding it, when the first cold stars came out.

Chapter 14. Fire and Water

     Now if you wish, like the  dwarves, to hear news of  Smaug, you must go
back again to the evening when he smashed the door and flew off in rage, two
days before.
     The  men of the lake-town Esgaroth were mostly indoors, for  the breeze
was from the black East and chill, but  a few were walking on the quays, and
watching, as they were fond of  doing, the  stars shine out  from the smooth
patches of  the lake as they opened in the  sky. From their town  the Lonely
Mountain was mostly screened by the low  hills at  the far end of  the lake,
through a  gap in which the Running River came down from the North. Only its
high peak could they see in clear weather, and they looked seldom at it, for
it was ominous and dreary even in the light of morning. Now it was lost  and
gone, blotted in the dark.
     Suddenly it flickered back to view; a brief glow touched it and faded.
     "Look!" said  one. "The lights again! Last night the  watchmen saw them
start and fade from midnight until dawn. Something is happening up there."
     "Perhaps the King under  the  Mountain is  forging gold," said another.
"It is  long since  he went  north. It  is  time the songs  began  to  prove
themselves again."
     "Which king?" said another with a grim voice. "As like as not it is the
marauding fire of the Dragon, the only  king under the Mountain we have ever
known."
     "You are  always foreboding gloomy things!" said the others.  "Anything
from floods to poisoned fish. Think of something cheerful!"
     Then suddenly a great light appeared in the low place  in the hills and
the northern end of the lake turned golden.
     "The  King beneath the Mountain!" they shouted. "His wealth is like the
Sun, his silver like a fountain, his rivers golden run! The river is running
gold from the Mountain!" they cried, and everywhere windows were opening and
feet were hurrying.
     There  was  once  more a tremendous excitement and enthusiasm. But  the
grim-voiced fellow ran hotfoot to the Master. "The dragon is  coming or I am
a fool!" he cried. "Cut the bridges! To arms! To arms!"
     Then warning trumpets were suddenly sounded, and echoed along the rocky
shores. The cheering stopped and the joy was turned to dread. So it was that
the dragon did not find them quite unprepared. Before long, so great was his
speed,  they could  see  him  as a spark  of fire  rushing  towards them and
growing  ever huger and more bright, and not the  most  foolish doubted that
the  prophecies had gone rather  wrong. Still they had a little  time. Every
vessel in  the  town was filled with water, every warrior  was armed,  every
arrow  and  dart was ready, and the bridge to  the  land was thrown down and
destroyed, before the roar of Smaug's terrible  approach grew loud, and  the
lake rippled red as fire beneath the awful beating of his wings.
     Amid shrieks and wailing and the shouts of men he came over them, swept
towards the bridges and was  foiled! The  bridge was  gone,  and his enemies
were on an  island in deep water-too deep and  dark and cool for his liking.
If he  plunged into it, a vapour and a steam would arise enough to cover all
the land with a mist for days; but the lake  was mightier than  he, it would
quench him before he could pass through.
     Roaring he swept back over  the town. A hail of  dark arrows leaped  up
and snapped and rattled on his scales and jewels, and their shafts fell back
kindled by his breath burning and hissing into  the  lake.  No fireworks you
ever imagined equalled the  sights that  night.  At the twanging of the bows
and the shrilling  of the trumpets the dragon's wrath blazed  to its height,
till he was blind and mad with it. No one  had dared to  give battle  to him
for many  an age; nor would they have dared now,  if it had not been for the
grim-voiced man  (Bard  was  his  name), who  ran to and fro cheering on the
archers and urging the Master to order them to fight to the last arrow.
     Fire leaped from  the dragon's jaws. He circled for a while high in the
air above  them lighting all the lake; the  trees  by the shores shone  like
copper and like  blood with  leaping shadows of dense black  at their  feet.
Then down he swooped straight through the arrow-storm, reckless in his rage,
taking no heed to turn his scaly sides towards his foes, seeking only to set
their town ablaze.
     Fire leaped from thatched roofs and wooden beam-ends as he hurtled down
and past and round again, though all  had been drenched with water before he
came.  Once  more  water  was flung  by  a hundred  hands wherever  a  spark
appeared. Back swirled the dragon.  A sweep of his  tail and the roof of the
Great  House crumbled and smashed down. Flames unquenchable sprang high into
the night.  Another swoop and another,  and another  house and then  another
sprang afire and  fell; and still no  arrow hindered Smaug or hurt him  more
than a fly  from the  marshes.  Already  men were jumping  into the water on
every  side. Women and children were being  huddled into laden boats  in the
market-pool. Weapons were  flung down. There was mourning and weeping, where
but a little time ago the old songs of mirth to come had been sung about the
dwarves. Now men cursed  their names. The Master himself was turning  to his
great  gilded boat, hoping to row away  in  the confusion and  save himself.
Soon all the town  would be deserted and burned  down to the  surface of the
lake. That was the  dragon's hope. They could all  get into boats for all he
cared. There he could have fine sport hunting them, or they could  stop till
they  starved. Let them  try to get to  land and he  would be ready. Soon he
would set all the shoreland woods ablaze and wither every field and pasture.
Just now he was enjoying the sport of town-baiting  more than he had enjoyed
anything for years. But there was still a company of archers that held their
ground  among  the burning  houses. Their  captain was Bard, grim-voiced and
grim-faced, whose friends had accused him of prophesying floods and poisoned
fish, though  they knew his worth and courage. He was a  descendant in  long
line  of  Girion,  Lord of Dale, whose wife and child had  escaped  down the
Running River from the ruin long ago. Now he shot with a great yew bow, till
all his arrows but one were spent. The flames were near him.  His companions
were  leaving him.  He  bent his  bow for the last time. Suddenly out of the
dark something fluttered to his shoulder. He started-but it was only  an old
thrush. Unafraid  it perched by his ear and it  brought him news. Marvelling
he found he could understand its tongue, for he was of the race of Dale.
     "Wait!  Wait!" it said to him. "The moon is rising. Look for the hollow
of the left breast as he flies  and turns above you!" And while Bard  paused
in  wonder it told him of tidings up in the Mountain and of all  that it had
heard. Then Bard drew  his bow-string to his  ear.  The dragon  was circling
back, flying low,  and as he came  the moon rose above the eastern shore and
silvered his great wings.
     "Arrow!" said the bowman. "Black  arrow!  I have saved you to the last.
You have never failed me and always I have recovered you. I  had you from my
father and he from of old. If ever you came from the forges of the true king
under the Mountain, go now and speed well!"
     The  dragon  swooped once  more lower than ever, and as  he  turned and
dived  down his  belly  glittered white with sparkling fires of gems  in the
moon-but not  in one  place.  The  great bow  twanged. The black arrow  sped
straight  from the string, straight for the  hollow by the left breast where
the  foreleg  was  flung wide. In it  smote  and vanished,  barb,  shaft and
feather, so fierce was  its flight. With a  shriek that deafened men, felled
trees and  split stone,  Smaug shot  spouting into the air,  turned over and
crashed down from on high in ruin.
     Full on the town he fell. His last  throes splintered it  to sparks and
gledes. The lake roared in. A vast steam leaped up, white in the sudden dark
under the  moon. There was  a hiss,  a gushing whirl, and then silence.  And
that was the  end of Smaug  and Esgaroth, but not  of Bard.  The waxing moon
rose higher and higher and the wind grew loud and cold. It twisted the white
fog into bending pillars and hurrying clouds and drove it off to the West to
scatter in tattered shreds  over the  marshes before Mirkwood. Then the many
boats could be seen  dotted  dark on the  surface of the lake,  and down the
wind came the voices of the people of Esgaroth lamenting their lost town and
goods  and ruined  houses. But they had  really much to be thankful for, had
they thought of it, though it could hardly be expected that they should just
then: three quarters of the people of  the town had at least escaped  alive;
their  woods  and  fields and  pastures and  cattle and most of  their boats
remained undamaged;  and  the  dragon was dead. What that meant they had not
yet realized.
     They gathered in mournful crowds upon  the western shores, shivering in
the cold wind, and their first complaints and anger were against the Master,
who had left the town so soon, while some were still willing to defend it.
     "He may have  a good  head  for  business-especially his own business,"
some murmured, "but  he is  no good when anything serious happens!" And they
praised  the courage of Bard and  his  last mighty shot. "If only he had not
been  killed,"  they  all  said,  "we  would  make  him  a  king.  Bard  the
Dragon-shooter of the line of Girion! Alas that he is lost!"
     And in the very  midst  of  their talk, a tall figure stepped from  the
shadows.  He was drenched with water, his black hair  hung wet over his face
and shoulders, and a fierce light was in his eyes.
     "Bard is not lost!" he  cried. "He dived from Esgaroth, when the  enemy
was slain. I am Bard, of the line of Girion; I am the slayer of the dragon!"
     "King  Bard!  King  Bard!"  they  shouted; but the  Master  ground  his
chattering teeth.
     "Girion was  lord of  Dale,  not king  of  Esgaroth," he said. "In  the
Lake-town we have always elected masters  from  among the old  and wise, and
have not endured  the rule of mere  fighting men. Let 'King Bard' go back to
his own  kingdom-Dale is now freed by  his valour,  and  nothing binders his
return. And any  that wish can go  with him, if they prefer the  cold shores
under the  shadow of the Mountain  to the green shores of the lake. The wise
will  stay here and hope to  rebuild our town,  and enjoy again in  time its
peace and riches."
     "We will have King Bard!" the people near at hand shouted in reply. "We
have had enough of the  old men and the money-counters!" And  people further
off took  up the  cry: "Up the Bowman, and down  with  Moneybags,"  till the
clamour echoed along the shore.
     "I am  the last man  to  undervalue Bard  the Bowman,"  said the Master
warily (for Bard  now  stood close  beside  him).  "He has tonight earned an
eminent place in  the roll of the benefactors of our town;  and he is worthy
of many imperishable songs. But, why O People?"-and here  the Master rose to
his  feet and spoke very loud and clear -- "why do I get all your blame? For
what fault am I to  be deposed? Who  aroused the dragon from his  slumber, I
might ask? Who  obtained  of us rich  gifts  and ample  help, and  led us to
believe that old songs could come true?  Who played  on our  soft hearts and
our pleasant  fancies? What sort of gold have  they sent down the  river  to
reward us? Dragon-fire and ruin! From whom should we claim the recompense of
our damage, and aid for our widows and orphans?"
     As you see, the Master had not got his position for nothing. The result
of his words was that for the moment the people quite forgot their idea of a
new king, and turned their angry thoughts towards  Thorin and  his  company.
Wild  and bitter words were shouted from  many sides; and  some of those who
had before sung the old songs loudest, were now heard  as loudly crying that
the dwarves had stirred the dragon up against them deliberately!
     "Fools!"  said  Bard.  "Why waste  words  and  wrath  on  those unhappy
creatures?  Doubtless they perished first in fire, before Smaug came to us."
Then even as he was speaking, the thought came into his heart of the  fabled
treasure of  the Mountain lying without guard or owner, and he fell suddenly
silent. He thought of the Master's words, and of  Dale  rebuilt, and  filled
with golden bells, if he could but find the men.
     At length he spoke again: "This is no time for angry  words. Master, or
for  considering weighty plans of change. There is work  to do. I  serve you
still-though after a while I may think again of your words and go North with
any that will follow me."
     Then he strode off to help in the ordering of the camps and in the care
of the sick and the wounded. But the Master scowled at his back  as he went,
and remained sitting on the ground. He thought much but  said little, unless
it was to  call loudly for men  to bring him  fire  and food. Now everywhere
Bard  went he found talk running  like fire  among the people concerning the
vast treasure that was now  unguarded. Men spoke  of the recompense  for all
their harm  that they would soon get from it, and  wealth over  and to spare
with which to buy rich things from the South; and it cheered them greatly in
their plight.  That  was as  well, for  the  night was bitter and miserable.
Shelters  could be contrived  for  few (the Master had one)  and  there  was
little food (even the Master went short). Many took ill of wet and  cold and
sorrow that night, and afterwards  died, who  had escaped uninjured from the
ruin  of the town; and in the days that followed there was much sickness and
great hunger.
     Meanwhile Bard  took  the lead, and ordered things as he wished, though
always in the Master's name, and he had a hard task to govern the people and
direct the preparations for  their protection and housing. Probably  most of
them  would have perished  in the winter that  now  hurried after autumn, if
help  had  not been  to hand.  But  help  came swiftly; for Bard at once had
speedy messengers sent up the river to the Forest to ask the aid of the King
of the  Elves of the Wood, and these messengers had found a host already  on
the move, although it was then only the third day after the fall of Smaug.
     The Elvenking had received news from his  own messengers  and  from the
birds that loved his folk, and already knew much  of what had happened. Very
great indeed was the commotion among all things with wings that dwelt on the
borders of  the Desolation of  the Dragon. The air was  filled with circling
flocks, and their  swift-flying  messengers flew  here and there  across the
sky. Above the borders of the Forest there was whistling, crying and piping.
Far  over  Mirkwood tidings  spread:  "Smaug  is dead!" Leaves  rustled  and
startled ears were lifted. Even before the Elvenking rode forth the news had
passed west  right to the pinewoods of the Misty  Mountains; Beorn had heard
it in his wooden house, and the goblins were at council in their caves.
     "That will  be the last we shall  hear of  Thorin Oakenshield, I fear,"
said the king. "He  would have done better to have remained my guest. It  is
an ill wind, all the  same," he added, "that blows no one any good."  For he
too had not forgotten the legend  of the wealth of  Thror.  So it  was  that
Bard's messengers found him now marching  with many spearmen and bowmen; and
crows  were  gathered  thick,  above  him,  for  they thought  that war  was
awakening again, such as had not been in those parts for a long age. But the
king, when he received the prayers of Bard, had pity, for he was the lord of
a good  and  kindly people; so turning  his march, which  had at  first been
direct towards  the  Mountain, he hastened now  down the river  to the  Long
Lake. He had not boats or rafts enough for his host, and they were forced to
go the slower way by foot;  but great store of goods he sent ahead by water.
Still elves are light--footed, and though they were not in  these  days much
used to the  marches and the  treacherous  lands between  the Forest and the
Lake,  their going was swift. Only  five days after the death of the  dragon
they came upon the shores and looked on the ruins of the town. Their welcome
was good,  as  may be expected,  and the men and their Master  were ready to
make any bargain for the future in return for the Elvenking's aid.
     Their plans were soon  made. With the  women  and the children, the old
and the unfit, the Master remained  behind;  and  with him were  some men of
crafts and many skilled elves; and they busied themselves felling trees, and
collecting the timber sent down from the Forest. Then they set about raising
many huts  by  the shore  against the oncoming  winter;  and also under  the
Master's direction they began the planning of a new town, designed more fair
and large even  than  before,  but  not in  the  same  place.  They  removed
northward higher up the shore; for ever after  they had a dread of the water
where the dragon lay. He would never again return to his golden bed, but was
stretched  cold as stone, twisted upon the floor  of the shallows. There for
ages  his huge bones could be seen  in calm weather amid the ruined piles of
the old town. But few dared to cross the cursed spot, and none dared to dive
into the shivering water or recover the precious stones  that fell  from his
rotting carcass.
     But  all  the men of  arms who were  still able,  and  the most  of the
Elvenking's array,  got  ready to march north  to  the Mountain. It was thus
that in eleven days from the ruin of the  town the head of their host passed
the rock-gates at the end of the lake and came into the desolate lands.

Chapter 15. The Gathering of the Clouds

     Now we will return to Bilbo and the dwarves. All night one of  them had
watched,  but  when  morning came they  had not heard  or seen  any sign  of
danger. But ever more thickly the birds were gathering. Their companies came
flying  from the  South; and  the crows that still lived  about the Mountain
were wheeling and crying unceasingly above.
     "Something strange is  happening," said Thorin. "The  time has gone for
the autumn wanderings; and  these are  birds that dwell  always in the land;
there  are  starlings  and flocks  of finches; and  far  off there  are many
carrion birds as if a battle were afoot!"
     Suddenly Bilbo pointed: "There is that old thrush again!" he cried. "He
seems to have  escaped, when Smaug smashed  the  mountain-side,  but I don't
suppose the snails have!"
     Sure enough the  old thrush was  there, and as  Bilbo pointed, he  flew
towards them and perched on a stone near by. Then he fluttered his wings and
sang; then he cocked  his head  on one side,  as if to  listen; and again he
sang, and again he listened.
     "I believe  he  is  trying to  tell  us something," said Balin; "but  I
cannot follow the speech  of such birds, it is very quick and difficult. Can
you make it out Baggins?"
     "Not very well," said Bilbo (as a matter of fact, he could make nothing
of it at all); "but the old fellow seems .very excited."
     "I only wish he was a raven!" said Balin.
     "I thought you did not like them! You  seemed very shy of them, when we
came this way before."
     "Those were crows! And  nasty suspicious-looking creatures at that, and
rude as well. You must have heard the ugly names they were calling after us.
But the ravens are different. There used to be great friendship between them
and  the  people of Thror; and they often brought us  secret news, and  were
rewarded with such bright things as they coveted to hide in their dwellings.
     "They live many a year, and their memories  are long,  and they hand on
their wisdom to their children.  I  knew many  among the ravens of the rocks
when I was a  dwarf- lad. This very height was once named Ravenhill, because
there  was a wise  and  famous pair, old Care  and his wife, that lived here
above the guard-chamber. But I don't suppose that  any of that ancient breed
linger here now."
     No sooner had he finished speaking  than the  old thrush  gave  a  loud
call, and immediately flew away.
     "We may  not  understand  him, but that old  bird understands us, I  am
sure," said Balin. "Keep watch now, and see what happens!"
     Before long there was a fluttering of wings,  and back came the thrush;
and with him came a most decrepit old  bird. He was getting blind,  he could
hardly  fly, and the top of his head was bald. He was an aged raven of great
size.  He alighted  stiffly  on  the ground  before them, slowly flapped his
wings, and bobbed towards Thorin.
     "O  Thorin  son  of Thrain, and Balin  son of Fundin," he  croaked (and
Bilbo could understand what he said,  for he used ordinary language  and not
bird-speech). "I am R(ac son of Carc. Carc is dead, but he was well known to
you once. It is a hundred years and three and fifty since  I came out of the
egg, but I do not forget what my  father told  me. Now I am the chief of the
great ravens of the Mountain. We  are  few,  but  we remember still the king
that was of old. Most of my  people  are abroad, for there are great tidings
in the South -- some are tidings of joy to you, and some you  will not think
so good.
     "Behold! the birds are gathering back again to the Mountain and to Dale
from South and East and West, for word has gone out that Smaug is dead!"
     "Dead! Dead?" shouted the dwarves. "Dead! Then we have been in needless
fear-and the treasure is ours!"
     They all sprang up and began to caper about for joy.
     "Yes, dead," said R(ac. "The thrush, may his feathers never  fall,  saw
him die, and  we may trust his words. He saw him fall in battle with the men
of Esgaroth the third night back from now at the rising of the moon."
     It was some time before Thorin could bring the dwarves to be silent and
listen to the raven's  news.  At length when he had told all the tale of the
battle he went on:
     "So much for joy, Thorin Oakenshield. You  may go back to your halls in
safety;  all the treasure  is yours-for  the moment.  But many are gathering
hither beside the birds. The news of the  death  of the guardian has already
gone far and wide, and the legend of the wealth of Thror has not lost in the
telling during many years; many are eager for  a share of the spoil. Already
a host of the elves is on the  way, and  carrion birds are  with them hoping
for battle and slaughter. By the lake men murmur that their sorrows  are due
to  the dwarves;  for they are  homeless and many  have died, and Smaug  has
destroyed  their town.  They too  think  to  find amends from your treasure,
whether you are alive or dead.
     "Your own wisdom must decide your course, but thirteen is small remnant
of the great folk of Durin that once dwelt here,  and now are scattered far.
If  you will  listen  to my  counsel, you will not  trust the Master of  the
Lake-men,  but rather him that  shot the dragon with his bow. Bard is he, of
the race of Dale, of the line of Girion; he is a grim man but true. We would
see  peace  once  more  among  dwarves and  men  and  elves  after  the long
desolation; but it may cost you dear in gold. I have spoken."
     Then Thorin burst forth in anger: "Our thanks, R(ac Carc's son. You and
your people  shall not be forgotten. But none of our gold shall thieves take
or the violent carry off while we are alive.  If  you would earn  our thanks
still more, bring us news of any that draw near. Also I would beg of you, if
any  of you  are  still  young  and  strong  of  wing, that  you  would send
messengers to our kin in the mountains of the North, both west from here and
east, and tell them of our plight. But go specially to my cousin Dain in the
Iron Hills, for he has many people  well-armed, and dwells  nearest to  this
place. Bid him hasten!"
     "I will not say if  this counsel  be good or bad," croaked R(ac; "but I
will do what can be done." Then off he slowly flew.
     "Back now  to  the Mountain!"  cried  Thorin.  "We have  little time to
lose."
     "And little food to use!" cried Bilbo, always practical on such points.
In any case  he felt  that the adventure was, properly speaking,  over .with
the  death  of the dragon-in which he  was  much  mistaken-and he would have
given  most of his share of the profits for the peaceful winding up of these
affairs.
     "Back to the Mountain!" cried the dwarves as if they had not heard him;
so back  he  had  to  go  with them. As you have  heard  some of  the events
already, you will see that the dwarves still had some days before them. They
explored the caverns once more, and found, as they  expected, that  only the
Front Gate remained  open; all the other gates (except, of course, the small
secret  door) had long ago been broken and blocked by Smaug, and no  sign of
them remained.  So  now they began  to  labour hard  in fortifying the  main
entrance, and in remaking  the road that led from it. Tools were to be found
in plenty that the miners and quarriers and builders of old had used; and at
such work the dwarves were still very skilled.
     As they worked the ravens brought  them  constant  tidings. In this way
they learned that the Elvenking had turned aside to the Lake, and they still
had a  breathing space. Better  still, they heard that three of their ponies
had escaped and were wandering wild far down the banks of the Running River,
not far from  where the rest of  their stores had been left.  So  while  the
others went on with their work, Fili and Kili  were sent, guided by a raven,
to find the ponies and bring back all they could.
     They  were four days gone, and by that time  they knew  that the joined
armies of the Lake-men and the Elves were hurrying towards the Mountain. But
now their  hopes  were  higher; for  they  had  food  for  some  weeks  with
care-chiefly  cram,  of course,  and they were very tired of it; but cram is
much better than nothing-and  already the gate was  blocked with a  wall  of
squared stones laid dry, but  very thick  and high across the opening. There
were  holes  in  the  wall  through which they could  see (or shoot) but  no
entrance.  They climbed in or out with  ladders,  and  hauled stuff  up with
ropes. For the  issuing of  the stream they had contrived  a small low  arch
under the new wall; but near the entrance they had so altered the narrow bed
that a  wide pool stretched from the mountain-wall  to  the head of the fall
over  which the stream went towards  Dale. Approach to the Gate was now only
possible, without  swimming, along a narrow ledge of the cliff, to the right
as one  looked outwards from the wall. The ponies they  had brought only  to
the head  of the steps  above the old bridge,  and unloading  them there had
bidden  them  return to their masters and  sent them  back  riderless to the
South.
     There came a night when suddenly there were many lights as of fires and
torches away south in Dale before them.
     "They  have  come!"  called Balin.  "And their camp is very great. They
must have come into the valley under  the cover of dusk along both banks  of
the river."
     That night  the  dwarves slept little. The morning was  still pale when
they  saw a  company approaching.  From behind  their wall they watched them
come up to the valley's head and climb slowly up. Before long they could see
that both men of the lake  armed as if  for war and elvish bowmen were among
them. At length the foremost of these climbed the tumbled rocks and appeared
at the  top of the falls; and very great was their surprise to see the  pool
before them and the Gate blocked with a wall of new-hewn stone.
     As they stood pointing and speaking to one another  Thorin hailed them:
"Who are you,"  he called in a  very loud  voice, "that come as if in war to
the gates of Thorin son of Thrain, King under the Mountain, and  what do you
desire?"
     But they  answered nothing. Some  turned  swiftly back, and  the others
after gazing for a while at the  Gate and its defences  soon  followed them.
That day the camp  was moved and was brought right  between  the arms of the
Mountain. The rocks echoed  then with voices and with  song, as they had not
done  for many a day. There  was the sound, too, of elven-harps and of sweet
music; and as it echoed up towards them it seemed that the chill  of the air
was  warmed, and  they caught  faintly  the  fragrance  of woodland  flowers
blossoming in spring.
     Then Bilbo longed to escape  from the  dark fortress and to go down and
join in the mirth and  feasting by  the fires.  Some of the  younger dwarves
were moved in their hearts, too, and they  muttered  that they wished things
had fallen out otherwise  and that  they might welcome such folk as friends;
but Thorin scowled.
     Then  the  dwarves  themselves  brought  forth  harps  and  instruments
regained from  the  hoard, and made music to soften his mood; but their song
was not as elvish song, and was much like the song they had sung long before
in Bilbo's little hobbit-hole.

     Under the Mountain dark and tall
     The King has come unto his hall!
     His foe is dead, the Worm of Dread,
     And ever so his foes shall fall.

     The sword is sharp, the spear is long,
     The arrow swift, the Gate is strong;
     The heart is bold that looks on gold;
     The dwarves no more shall suffer wrong.

     The dwarves of yore made mighty spells,
     While hammers fell like ringing bells
     In places deep, where dark things sleep,
     In hollow halls beneath the fells.

     On silver necklaces they strung
     The light of stars, on crowns they hung
     The dragon-fire, from twisted wire
     The melody of harps they wrung.

     The mountain throne once more is freed!
     O! wandering folk, the summons heed!
     Come haste! Come haste! across the waste!
     The king of friend and kin has need.

     Now call we over mountains cold,
     'Come hack unto the caverns old'!
     Here at the Gates the king awaits,
     His hands are rich with gems and gold.

     The king is come unto his hall
     Under the Mountain dark and tall.
     The Worm of Dread is slain and dead,
     And ever so our foes shall fall!

     This song appeared  to  please  Thorin,  and  he smiled again  and grew
merry; and he began reckoning the distance to the Iron Hills and how long it
would be before  Dain could reach the  Lonely Mountain, if he had set out as
soon as the  message reached him. But Bilbo's  heart fell, both  at the song
and  the  talk:  they  sounded much too warlike.  The  next morning  early a
company of spearmen was seen crossing the river, and marching up the valley.
They bore with them the green banner of the Elvenking and the blue banner of
the  Lake, and they advanced until they stood  right before the wall at  the
Gate.
     Again Thorin hailed them in a loud voice: "Who are  you that come armed
for war to the gates of Thorin son of Thrain, King under the Mountain?" This
time he was answered.
     A tall  man stood forward, dark of hair and grim of face, and he cried:
"Hail Thorin! Why  do you fence yourself like  a robber in his  hold? We are
not yet  foes, and we  rejoice that you are alive beyond  our  hope. We came
expecting to find none living here; yet now that we are  met there is matter
for a parley and a council."
     "Who are you, and of what would you parley?"
     "I  am Bard,  and  by  my hand  was the dragon slain and  your treasure
delivered. Is that not  a  matter that concerns you? Moreover  I am by right
descent the heir of Girion of Dale, and in your hoard is mingled much of the
wealth of his halls and town, which of old Smaug stole. Is not that a matter
of  which  we may  speak? Further in  his  last battle  Smaug destroyed  the
dwellings of the men of Esgaroth, and  I am yet the servant of their Master.
I would speak for him and ask whether you have no thought for the sorrow and
misery of his people. They aided you in your distress, and in recompense you
have thus far brought ruin only, though doubtless undesigned."
     Now these  were  fair words and true, if proudly and grimly spoken; and
Bilbo thought that Thorin would  at once admit what justice was  in them. He
did  not, of course, expect that any one would remember that it  was  he who
discovered all by himself the dragon's weak spot; and that was just as well,
for no one ever did. But also he did not reckon with the power that gold has
upon which a dragon has long brooded, nor  with dwarvish  hearts. Long hours
in the past days Thorin  had spent in  the treasury, and the lust of it  was
heavy on him. Though he had hunted chiefly for the Arkenstone, yet he had an
eye for many another wonderful thing that was lying  there, about which were
wound old memories of the labours and the sorrows of his race.
     "You  put your worst  cause  last  and  in  the  chief  place,"  Thorin
answered.  "To the treasure  of  my people no man has a claim, because Smaug
who stole it  from us also robbed him  of life or home. The treasure was not
his that his evil deeds should be amended with a share of it.  The  price of
the goods and the assistance that we received of the Lake-men we will fairly
pay-in due time. But nothing will  we  give, not even a loaf's  worth, under
threat of force. While  an armed host lies before  our doors, we look on you
as foes and thieves.
     "It is in my mind to ask what share of their inheritance you would have
paid to our kindred, had you found the hoard unguarded and us slain."
     "A just question," replied Bard. "But you are not  dead, and we are not
robbers. Moreover the wealthy may have  pity beyond right on  the needy that
befriended them when  they  were in want. And  still  my other claims remain
unanswered."
     "I will  not parley, as I have said,  with armed men at my gate. Nor at
all with the people of the  Elvenking, whom  I remember with small kindness.
In this debate they have no place. Begone now ere our arrows fly! And if you
would speak with me again, first dismiss the elvish host  to the woods where
it  belongs,  and then return, laying down your arms before you approach the
threshold."
     "The Elvenking  is  my  friend, and he has succoured the people  of the
Lake  in their  need,  though  they  had  no  claim but  friendship on him,"
answered  Bard.  "We will give you time  to  repent  your words. Gather your
wisdom ere we return!" Then he departed and went back to the camp.
     Ere many hours were past, the  banner-bearers  returned, and trumpeters
stood forth and blew a blast:
     "In the name of Esgaroth and  the Forest,"  one  cried,  "we speak unto
Thorin  Thrain's  son  Oakenshield,  calling  himself  the  King  under  the
Mountain, and we bid  him consider  well the claims that have been urged, or
be declared our foe.  At the  least  he shall deliver one twelfth portion of
the treasure unto Bard, as the dragon-slayer, and  as  the  heir  of Girion.
From that portion Bard will himself contribute to  the aid of  Esgaroth; but
if Thorin would  have the friendship and  honour of the  lands about, as his
sires had of old, then he will give also somewhat of his own for the comfort
of the men of the Lake." Then Thorin  seized a bow of horn and shot an arrow
at the speaker. It smote into his shield and stuck there quivering.
     '"Since  such  is your answer,"  he  called in  return, "I declare  the
Mountain besieged. You shall not depart from it, until you call on your side
for a truce and a parley. We will bear no weapons against you, but we  leave
you to your gold. You may eat that, if you will!"
     With that the messengers departed swiftly, and the dwarves were left to
consider  their case. So grim had Thorin  become,  that  even  if  they  had
wished, the others would not have dared to find fault  with  him; but indeed
most of them seemed to share his mind-except perhaps old fat Bombur and Fili
and Kili. Bilbo, of course, disapproved of the whole turn of affairs. He had
by  now had more than enough of the  Mountain, and  being besieged inside it
was not at all to his taste.
     "The whole place still stinks of  dragon," he grumbled to himself, "and
it makes me sick. And cram is beginning simply to stick in my throat."

Chapter 16. A Thief in the Night

     Now the days passed slowly and wearily. Many of the dwarves spent their
time  piling  and  ordering the  treasure;  and  now  Thorin  spoke  of  the
Arkenstone of Thrain, and bade them eagerly to look for it in every comer.
     "For the Arkenstone of my father," he said, "is worth more than a river
of gold in  itself,  and  to  me it  is beyond  price. That stone of all the
treasure I name unto  myself, and  I  will be avenged on anyone who finds it
and withholds it."
     Bilbo  heard these  words  and  he grew  afraid, wondering  what  would
happen, if the stone was found-wrapped in an old bundle of tattered oddments
that he used as a pillow. All the same he did not  speak of  it,  for as the
weariness of the days grew  heavier,  the beginnings of a plan had come into
his little head.
     Things  had gone on  like this for  some time, when the ravens  brought
news that  Dain  and more than five  hundred dwarves, hurrying from the Iron
Hills,  were  now  within  about two days'  march of  Dale, coming  from the
North-East.
     "But they cannot reach the Mountain unmarked,"  said R(ac, "and I  fear
lest there be battle in the valley. I do not call this  counsel good. Though
they are a grim folk, they are not  likely to overcome the  host that besets
you;  and even if they  did  so, what will you  gain?  Winter  and  snow  is
hastening behind them.  How shall  you  be fed  without the  friendship  and
goodwill  of the lands about you? The treasure is  likely to be your  death,
though the dragon is no more!"'
     But Thorin  was  not moved. "Winter  and  snow  will  bite both men and
elves," he said, "and they may find their dwelling in the  Waste grievous to
bear. With my friends behind them and winter upon them, they will perhaps be
in softer mood to parley with."
     That night Bilbo made up his mind. The  sky  was black and moonless. As
soon as  it  was full  dark, he went to  a  corner of  an inner chamber just
within  the gate  and drew  from his bundle a rope,  and also the Arkenstone
wrapped  in  a rag. Then he climbed to the top of  the wall. Only Bombur was
there, for it was his turn to watch, and the dwarves kept  only one watchman
at a time.
     "It is mighty cold!" said Bombur. "I wish we could  have a fire up here
as they have in the camp!"
     "It is warm enough inside," said Bilbo.
     "I daresay; but I am bound here till midnight," grumbled the fat dwarf.
"A  sorry business altogether.  Not that I venture  to disagree with Thorin,
may his beard grow ever longer; yet he was ever a dwarf with a stiff neck."
     "Not as stiff as my  legs," said Bilbo. "I am tired of stairs and stone
passages. I would give a good deal for the feel of grass at my toes."
     "I  would give a good deal for the feel of a strong drink in my throat,
and for a soft bed after a good supper!"
     "I can't give  you those,  while the  siege is going on. But it is long
since I watched, and I will take your turn for you, if you like. There is no
sleep in me tonight."
     "You are a good fellow, Mr. Baggins, and I will take your offer kindly.
If there should be anything to note, rouse me first, mind you! I will lie in
the inner chamber to the left, not far away."
     "Off  you go!" said Bilbo. "I  will wake  you  at midnight, and you can
wake the next watchman." As  soon as Bombur had gone, Bilbo put on his ring,
fastened  his rope,  slipped down over the wall, and was gone. He had  about
five hours before him. Bombur would sleep (he could  sleep at  any time, and
ever since the adventure in the forest he was always trying to recapture the
beautiful dreams he had then); and all the others were busy with Thorin.  It
was unlikely that any, even  Fili or Kili, would come  out on the wall until
it was  their turn.  It  was very dark, and the road  after a while, when he
left  the  newly made path  and climbed down towards the lower course of the
stream, was strange to him.  At  last he came  to the bend  where he had  to
cross the water, if he was to make for the  camp, as he  wished. The  bed of
the  stream was there  shallow but already broad, and fording it in the dark
was not easy for the little hobbit. He  was nearly across when he missed his
footing on a  round stone and fell into the cold water with a splash. He had
barely  scrambled out on the far  bank,  shivering and spluttering,  when up
came elves in the gloom with bright  lanterns and searched for  the cause of
the noise.
     "That was no fish!" one said. "There is  a spy about. Hide your lights!
They will help him more than us, if it is that queer little creature that is
said to be their servant."
     "Servant, indeed!" snorted  Bilbo;  and in  the middle of his snort  he
sneezed loudly, and the elves immediately gathered towards the sound.
     "Let's have a light!" he said. "I am here, if  you  want  me!"  and  he
slipped off his ring, and popped from behind a rock.
     They seized him quickly, in spite of  their surprise. "Who are you? Are
you the dwarves' hobbit? What are you doing? How did you get so far past our
sentinels?" they asked one after another.
     "I am Mr.  Bilbo  Baggins,"  he answered,  "companion of Thorin, if you
want to know. I know your king well by sight, though perhaps he doesn't know
me to look at. But Bard will remember me, and it is Bard I particularly want
to see."
     "Indeed!" said they, "and what may be your business?"
     "Whatever it  is, it's my own, my good elves.  But if  you wish ever to
get  back to  your own woods  from this  cold cheerless  place," he answered
shivering, "you will take me along quiet to a fire, where I can dry-and then
you will let me speak to your chiefs as quick as may be. I have only an hour
or two to spare."
     That is how it came about that some two hours after his escape from the
Gate, Bilbo  was sitting beside a  warm fire in front of a  large tent,  and
there sat  too,  gazing curiously at him, both  the  Elvenking  and  Bard. A
hobbit in elvish armour, partly wrapped in an old blanket, was something new
to them.
     "Really you  know,"  Bilbo was  saying in  his  best  business  manner,
"things are impossible. Personally I  am tired of the whole affair. I wish I
was  back in the West in my own home, where folk are more reasonable.  But I
have  an  interest in  this  matter-one  fourteenth  share,  to  be precise,
according to a letter, which  fortunately I  believe I  have kept." He  drew
from a  pocket  in  his  old jacket  (which he still wore  over  his  mail),
crumpled and much folded, Thorin's letter that had been  put under the clock
on his mantelpiece in May!
     "A  share in the profits, mind you,"  he went on. "I am aware of  that.
Personally I am only too ready  to consider  all  your claims carefully, and
deduct what is right from the  total before putting in my own claim. However
you don't  know Thorin Oakenshield as well as I do now. I assure you, he  is
quite ready to sit on a heap of gold and starve, as long as you sit here."
     "Well, let him!" said Bard. "Such a fool deserves to starve."
     "Quite so,"  said  Bilbo. "I  see your point of view.  At the same time
winter  is coming on fast. Before long you will be having snow and what not,
and supplies will be difficult  -- even for elves I imagine. Also there will
be  other difficulties. You have  not heard  of Dain  and the dwarves of the
Iron Hills?"
     "We have, a long time  ago;  but what has he  got to do with us?" asked
the king.
     "I  thought as  much. I see I have  some information  you have not got.
Dain, I may tell you, is now less than two days' march off, and has at least
five  hundred grim  dwarves  with  him --  a  good  many  of  them  have had
experience in the dreadful dwarf and goblin wars, of which you have no doubt
heard. When they arrive there may be serious trouble."
     "Why do  you tell  us this? Are  you betraying your friends, or are you
threatening us?" asked Bard grimly.
     "My  dear Bard!"  squeaked Bilbo.  "Don't be so hasty! I never met such
suspicious folk! I am merely  trying to avoid trouble for all concerned. Now
I will make you an offer!!"
     "Let us hear it!" they said.
     "You  may see  it!"  said he.  "It  is  this!"  and he  drew  forth the
Arkenstone, and threw away the wrapping.
     The Elvenking  himself, whose  eyes were  used  to things of wonder and
beauty, stood up  in amazement. Even Bard gazed marvelling at it in silence.
It was as if a  globe had been filled with moonlight and hung before them in
a net woven of the glint of frosty stars.
     "This  is  the Arkenstone of Thrain,"  said  Bilbo,  "the Heart of  the
Mountain; and it is also the heart of Thorin. He values it above a river  of
gold. I give it to you. It will aid you in your bargaining." Then Bilbo, not
without a  shudder, not without a glance of longing,  handed the  marvellous
stone to Bard, and he held it in his hand, as though dazed.
     "But how is it yours to give?" he asked at last with an effort.
     "O well!"  said the hobbit uncomfortably. "It isn't exactly; but, well,
I am willing to let  it stand against all my claim, don't you know. I may be
a burglar-or so they say: personally  I never really felt like  one-but I am
an honest  one, I hope, more or less. Anyway I am  going back  now, and  the
dwarves can do what they like to me. I hope you will find it useful."
     The Elvenking looked at Bilbo with a new wonder.
     "Bilbo Baggins!"  he said. "You are more worthy to  wear the  armour of
elf-princes  than many that have looked more comely  in it. But  I wonder if
Thorin  Oakenshield  will see it  so.  I have more knowledge of  dwarves  in
general than you have perhaps.  I advise you to remain with us, and here you
shall be honoured and thrice welcome."
     "Thank you very  much  I  am sure," said Bilbo with a bow. "But I don't
think  I ought to leave my friends like this, after all we have gone through
together. And I promised to  wake old Bombur at midnight, too! Really I must
be going, and quickly."
     Nothing they could say would  stop  him; so an  escort was provided for
him, and as he went both the king and  Bard saluted him with honour. As they
passed through the camp an old man wrapped in a dark cloak, rose from a tent
door where he was sitting and came towards them.
     "Well done!  Mr. Baggins!"  he said, clapping Bilbo on the back. "There
is always more about you than anyone expects!" It was Gandalf.
     For the first time for many a day Bilbo was really delighted. But there
was no time for all the questions that he immediately wished to ask.
     "All  in good time!"  said Gandalf. "Things are drawing towards the end
now, unless I am mistaken. There is an unpleasant time just in front of you;
but keep  your  heart up! You  may come through  all  right. There  is  news
brewing that even the ravens have not heard. Good night!"
     Puzzled but cheered. Bilbo hurried on. He was guided to a safe ford and
set across dry, and then he said farewell to the elves and climbed carefully
back  towards the Gate. Great weariness began  to  come over him; but it was
well  before midnight when he clambered up the rope  again  --  it was still
where he had left  it. He untied it and hid it, and then he  sat down on the
wall and wondered anxiously what would happen next.
     At midnight  he woke up Bombur;  and then  in turn rolled himself up in
his  corner, without listening to  old dwarfs  thanks (which  he felt he had
hardly earned). He was  soon fast asleep forgetting all his worries till the
morning. As matter of fact he was dreaming of eggs and bacon.

Chapter 17. The Clouds Burst

     Next day the trumpets  rang early in the camp. Soon a single runner was
seen hurrying along the narrow path. At a distance he stood and hailed them,
asking whether Thorin would now listen to another embassy, since new tidings
had come to hand, and matters were changed.
     "That  will be Dain!" said  Thorin  when  he heard. "They will have got
wind of his coming. I thought that would alter their mood! Bid them come few
in number and weaponless, and I will hear," he called to the messenger.
     About midday  the banners of  the Forest  and the Lake  were seen to be
borne forth again. A company of twenty was approaching. At  the beginning of
the  narrow way they  laid aside sword and  spear, and came on  towards  the
Gate.  Wondering,  the dwarves saw that  among them were  both  Bard and the
Elvenking, before  whom an old man wrapped  in cloak  and hood bore a strong
casket of iron-bound wood.
     "Hail Thorin!" said Bard. "Are you still of the same mind?"
     "My mind does not  change with the rising and setting  of a  few suns,"
answered Thorin. "Did you  come to ask me idle questions? Still the elf-host
has not departed as I bade! Till then you come in vain to  bargain with me."
"Is there then nothing for which you would yield any of your gold?"
     "Nothing that you or your friends have to offer."
     "What of the Arkenstone of Thrain?" said he, and at the same moment the
old man opened the casket and held aloft the jewel. The light leapt from his
hand, bright and white in the morning.
     Then  Thorin  was  stricken dumb with amazement and  confusion. No  one
spoke  for a long while. Thorin at length broke the silence,  and  his voice
was  thick with  wrath. "That stone was my  father's, and is mine," he said.
"Why should I purchase my  own?" But wonder overcame him and  he added: "But
how came you by the  heirloom  of my  house-if  there is need to ask such  a
question of thieves?"
     "We are not  thieves," Bard answered. "Your own  we will  give back  in
return for our own."
     'How came you by it?" shouted Thorin in gathering rage.
     "I gave it them!" squeaked Bilbo, who  was peeping  over  the  wall, by
now, in a dreadful fright.
     "You! You!" cried  Thorin, turning upon him and grasping him with  both
hands. "You  miserable hobbit! You undersized-burglar!" he shouted at a loss
for words, and he shook poor Bilbo like a rabbit.
     "By  the beard of Durin! I wish  I had Gandalf  here! Curse him for his
choice  of  you! May his beard  wither! As for you  I will  throw you to the
rocks!" he cried and lifted Bilbo in his arms.
     "Stay! Your wish is granted!" said a voice. The old man with the casket
threw  aside  his  hood  and  cloak. "Here is Gandalf! And none too soon  it
seems. If you don't like my Burglar, please don't damage him. Put him  down,
and listen first to what he has to say!"
     "You all seem in league!" said Thorin dropping Bilbo on the top  of the
wall. "Never again will I have dealings with any wizard or his friends. What
have you to say, you descendant of rats?"
     "Dear  me!  Dear  me!"  said  Bilbo.  "I  am  sure  this  is  all  very
uncomfortable. You may remember saying that I might choose my own fourteenth
share? Perhaps I took it too literally --1 have  been told that  dwarves are
sometimes politer in word than in deed. The time was, all the same, when you
seemed to think that I had been of some service. Descendant of rats, indeed!
Is this ail the service of you and your family that I  was promised. Thorin?
Take it  that I  have disposed of my share as I wished,  and  let it  go  at
that!"
     "I will," said Thorin grimly. "And I will let you go at that-and may we
never meet again!" Then he turned and spoke  over the wall. "I am betrayed,"
he said. "It was  rightly guessed  that I could  not  forbear to  redeem the
Arkenstone,  the  treasure of my house. For it I  will  give one  fourteenth
share of  the hoard in  silver and  gold, setting aside the gems;  but  that
shall be accounted the  promised share of this traitor, and with that reward
he  shall depart,  and you  can divide it  as you  will. He  will get little
enough, I doubt not. Take him, if you wish him to live; and no friendship of
mine goes with him.
     "Get down  now to your friends!" he said to Bilbo, "or I will throw you
down."
     "What about the gold and silver?" asked Bilbo.
     "That shall follow after, as can be arranged," said he.
     "Get down!"
     "Until then we keep the stone," cried Bard.
     "You are not making a very splendid figure as King under the Mountain,"
said Gandalf. "But things may change yet."
     "They  may  indeed," said  Thorin.  And  already,  so  strong  was  the
bewilderment of the treasure upon him,  he was pondering whether by the help
of Dain he  might not recapture the Arkenstone and withhold the share of the
reward.
     And so  Bilbo was swung down from the wall,  and departed with  nothing
for  all his trouble, except the armour which  Thorin had given him already.
More than one of the  dwarves 'in their  hearts  felt  shame and pity at his
going.
     "Farewell!" he cried to them. "We may meet again as friends."
     "Be  off!" called Thorin. "You have mail upon you, which was made by my
folk, and is  too good for you. It cannot  be pierced .by arrows; but if you
do not hasten, I will sting your miserable feet. So be swift!"
     "Not so hasty!" said Bard. "We will give you until tomorrow. At noon we
will return, and see  if you have brought from the hoard the portion that is
to be set against the stone.  If that is  done  without deceit, then we will
depart, and  the elf-host will  go  back  to  the Forest. In  the  meanwhile
farewell!"
     With that they  went back to the  camp;  but Thorin sent messengers  by
R(ac telling Dain of what had passed, and bidding him come with wary speed.
     That day passed and  the night. The next day the wind shifted west, and
the  air was  dark  and gloomy. The morning was  still early when a  cry was
heard in  the camp. Runners came in  to report  that a host  of  dwarves had
appeared  round  the eastern spur of the  Mountain and was  now hastening to
Dale.  Dain had come. He had hurried on through  the  night, and so had come
upon them sooner than they had expected. Each one of his folk was  clad in a
hauberk of steel mail that hung to his knees, and his legs were covered with
hose of a  fine and  flexible metal  mesh,  the secret of  whose making  was
possessed by Dain's people.
     The dwarves  are exceedingly strong for their height, but most of these
were  strong  even  for  dwarves.  In battle  they wielded  heavy two-handed
mattocks;  but each of them had  also a short broad sword at his side  and a
round  shield  slung at his back. Their beards  were  forked and plaited and
thrust into  their  belts. Their caps were of iron and  they  were shod with
iron, and  their  faces were  grim. Trumpets called men  and elves  to arms.
Before long the dwarves could be seen  coming up the valley at a great pace.
They halted between  the river and the eastern spur; but a few held on their
way,  and crossing the  river drew near the camp;  and there they laid  down
their  weapons and held up their hands in sign  of  peace.  Bard went out to
meet them, and with him went Bilbo.
     "We are sent from Dain son of Nain," they said when questioned. "We are
hastening to our kinsmen in the Mountain, since we learn that the kingdom of
old  is  renewed.  But who  are you that  sit  in the  plain as foes  before
defended walls?" This, of. course,  in the  polite  and rather old-fashioned
language of such occasions, meant simply: "You have no business here. We are
going on, so make way or we shall fight you!" They meant to  push on between
the Mountain and the loop of  the river, for the  narrow land  there did not
seem to be strongly guarded.
     Bard, of course, refused to allow the dwarves to go straight on to  the
Mountain.  He  was  determined to wait  until the  gold and silver had  been
brought out in exchange for the Arkenstone: for he did not believe that this
would be done, if once  the fortress was manned with so large and  warlike a
company. They  had brought  with them  a great  store  of supplies; for  the
dwarves can  carry  very heavy  burdens, and nearly all of Dain's folks,  in
spite of their  rapid march,  bore huge packs on their backs in addition  to
their weapons. They would stand a siege for weeks, and by that time yet more
dwarves might come, and yet more, for  Thorin  had many relatives. Also they
would  be able to  reopen  and guard some other  gate, so that the besiegers
would  have to  encircle  the  whole  mountain;  and  for that they had  not
sufficient numbers.
     These  were,  in fact, precisely  their plans (for the raven-messengers
had been  busy  between  Thorin and Dain);  but  for the moment the way  was
barred, so after angry words the dwarf-messengers retired muttering in their
beards.  Bard then sent messengers at once  to  the Gate; but they found  no
gold or payment.  Arrows came  forth as soon as they were within  shot,  and
they hastened back in  dismay.  In the camp all was  now  astir,  as  if for
battle; for the dwarves of Dain were advancing along the eastern bank.
     "Fools!" laughed Bard,  "to come thus  beneath the Mountain's arm! They
do not understand  war above ground, whatever they may know of battle in the
mines.  There are many of  our  archers and spearmen now hidden in the rocks
upon their right flank.  Dwarf-mail may be good, but they will soon be  hard
put to  it. Let us set  on them now from both sides,  before they are  fully
rested!"
     But the  Elvenking said: "Long will I tarry,  ere I begin this  war for
gold.  The dwarves cannot press  us, unless we will, or do  anything that we
cannot mark. Let us hope still for something that will bring reconciliation.
Our  advantage  in numbers will be enough, if in the end  it  must  come  to
unhappy blows."
     But he reckoned without the dwarves. The knowledge that the  Arkenstone
was  in the  hands of  the  besiegers burned in  their  thoughts;  also they
guessed the hesitation of Bard and his friends, and resolved to strike while
they debated.
     Suddenly without a signal they sprang silently forward to attack.  Bows
twanged and arrows whistled; battle was about to be joined.
     Still more suddenly a darkness came on with dreadful swiftness! A black
cloud hurried over the  sky. Winter thunder on a wild wind rolled roaring up
and rumbled  in the  Mountain, and lightning lit  its peak. And  beneath the
thunder  another blackness  could be seen  whirling  forward; but it did not
come with the wind, it came from the North, like  a vast cloud of birds,  so
dense that no light could be seen between their wings.
     "Halt!"  cried Gandalf, who appeared suddenly,  and stood  alone,  with
arms uplifted, between the advancing  dwarves and the  ranks  awaiting them.
"Halt!" he called in a voice like thunder, and his staff blazed forth with a
flash  like the lightning. "Dread has come upon you  all!  Alas! it has come
more swiftly than I guessed. The Goblins are upon you! Bolg( of the North is
coming. O Dain!  whose father you slew in Moria. Behold! the bats are  above
his army like a sea of locusts. They ride upon wolves and Wargs are in their
train!"
     Amazement  and confusion fell  upon them all.  Even as Gandalf had been
speaking the  darkness grew. The  dwarves halted  and gazed  at the sky. The
elves cried out with many voices.
     "Come!" called Gandalf. "There is yet time for council. Let Dain son of
Nain come swiftly to us!"

     So began a battle that none had expected; and  it was called the Battle
of Five Armies, and it was very terrible. Upon one side were the Goblins and
the wild Wolves, and upon the other were  Elves and Men and Dwarves. This is
how it  fell  out. Ever  since the fall  of the Great  Goblin of  the  Misty
Mountains  the hatred of their race for the dwarves  had been  rekindled  to
fury. Messengers had passed to and  fro  between  all their cities, colonies
and strongholds;  for  they resolved now to  win the dominion  of the North.
Tidings they had gathered in secret ways; and in all the mountains there was
a forging and an arming. Then they marched and  gathered by hill and valley,
going ever  by tunnel or under  dark,  until  around  and beneath the  great
mountain Gundabad  of the  North, where was their  capital, a  vast host was
assembled ready to sweep down in time of storm unawares upon the South. Then
they learned  of the death  of Smaug, and joy was  in their hearts: and they
hastened night after night through the mountains, and came thus at last on a
sudden from the North hard on the heels of Dain. Not even the ravens knew of
their  coming until  they came  out in the broken  lands  which divided  the
Lonely Mountain from the hills behind. How much Gandalf knew cannot be said,
but it is plain that he had not expected this sudden assault.
     This is the plan that  he made in council  with the Elvenking  and with
Bard; and with  Dain, for the  dwarf-lord now  joined them: the Goblins were
the  foes of  all, and at  their coming all other  quarrels were  forgotten.
Their only hope was to lure the  goblins into the valley between the arms of
the Mountain; and  themselves  to man the great spurs  that struck south and
east. Yet this would be perilous, if the  goblins were in sufficient numbers
to  overrun the  Mountain itself,  and so attack  them also from behind  and
above; but there was no time for make any other plan, or to summon any help.
     Soon  the  thunder passed, rolling  away  to  the  South-East;  but the
bat-cloud came, flying lower, over the shoulder of the Mountain, and whirled
above them shutting out the light and filling them with dread.
     "To the  Mountain!" called  Bard.  "To the  Mountain!  Let us  take our
places while there is yet time!"
     On the Southern spur, in its lower slopes and in the rocks at its feet,
the Elves were set; on the  Eastern spur were  men and dwarves. But Bard and
some of the nimblest of men and elves  climbed  to the height of the Eastern
shoulder to gain a  view to the North. Soon they could see  the lands before
the Mountain's feet black with a hurrying  multitude. Ere  long the vanguard
swirled round the  spur's end and  came rushing  into  Dale. These  were the
swiftest wolf-riders, and already their cries and howls rent the air afar. A
few brave men were  strung before  them to  make a  feint of resistance, and
many there  fell  before  the rest  drew back  and  fled to  either side. As
Gandalf  had  hoped,  the  goblin  army  had gathered  behind  the  resisted
vanguard, and poured now in  rage into the valley, driving wildly up between
the arms of the Mountain, seeking for the foe. Their banners were countless,
black and red, and they came on like a tide in fury and disorder.
     It was a terrible battle. The most dreadful of all Bilbo's experiences,
and the one which at the time  he  hated most -- which is  to say it was the
one  he  was  most  proud of,  and most fond of recalling  long  afterwards,
although he was quite unimportant  in it.  Actually I must say he put on his
ring early in the business, and vanished from sight, if not from all danger.
A magic ring  of that sort is not a complete  protection in a goblin charge,
nor does it stop flying  arrows and wild spears; but it does help in getting
out  of the way, and it prevents your head from being specially chosen for a
sweeping stroke by a goblin swordsman.
     The  elves were  the first to  charge. Their  hatred for the goblins is
cold and bitter. Their spears and  swords shone in the gloom with a gleam of
chill flame, so deadly was the wrath of the hands that held them. As soon as
the host of their enemies  was dense in  the valley,  they sent against it a
shower of  arrows, and  each flickered as it fled  as if with stinging fire.
Behind  the arrows  a thousand of their spearmen leapt down and charged. The
yells  were  deafening. The rocks were stained black with goblin blood. Just
as the  goblins  were recovering from the onslaught  and the elf-charge  was
halted, there  rose from across the valley  a deep-throated roar. With cries
of "Moria!" and "Dain, Dain!" the  dwarves of  the  Iron  Hills  plunged in,
wielding their mattocks, upon the other side; and  beside them came the  men
of the Lake with long swords. Panic came upon the Goblins; and even as  they
turned  to  meet this  new  attack,  the  elves  charged again with  renewed
numbers.  Already many of the  goblins were flying  back  down the  river to
escape from the trap:  and many of their  own wolves  were turning upon them
and rending the  dead and  the  wounded. Victory seemed  at hand, when a cry
rang out on the heights above.
     Goblins had  scaled the  Mountain from the other side and  already many
were  on  the  slopes  above  the  Gate,  and  others  were  streaming  down
recklessly, heedless of those that fell screaming from  cliff and precipice,
to attack the spurs from above. Each of these could be reached by paths that
ran down from the main mass of the Mountain in the centre; and the defenders
had too few to  bar the way for long.  Victory now vanished from hope.  They
had only stemmed the first onslaught of the black tide.
     Day drew on. The goblins gathered again in the valley. There a  host of
Wargs  came  ravening and with them came the bodyguard of  Bolg, goblins  of
huge size with scimitars of steel.  Soon actual  darkness was coming into  a
stormy sky; while still the great bats  swirled about the  heads and ears of
elves and  men,  or  fastened vampire-like  on the  stricken. Now  Bard  was
fighting to  defend the Eastern spur, and yet giving  slowly  back;  and the
elf-lords  were  at bay about  their king upon the southern arm, near to the
watch-post on Ravenhill.
     Suddenly there  was  a great shout, and  from the  Gate  came a trumpet
call. They had forgotten  Thorin! Part of  the wall,  moved by levers,  fell
outward  with a  crash into the pool. Out leapt the King under the Mountain,
and  his companions  followed him. Hood  and  cloak were  gone; they were in
shining armour, and red light leapt from their eyes. In  the gloom the great
dwarf gleamed like gold in a dying fire.
     Rocks were buried down from on high by the goblins above; but they held
on. leapt down  to the falls' foot, and  rushed forward  to battle. Wolf and
rider fell or fled before them.  Thorin wielded his axe with mighty strokes,
and nothing seemed to harm him.
     "To me! To me! Elves and Men! To me! O my kinsfolk!" he cried, and  his
voice shook like a horn in the valley.
     Down, heedless of order, rushed all  the dwarves of Dain to  his  help.
Down too came many of the Lake-men,  for  Bard  could not restrain them; and
out  upon the other side came many of the spearmen of the elves. Once  again
the goblins were  stricken in the valley; and they were piled in heaps  till
Dale was dark and hideous with their  corpses. The Wargs were scattered  and
Thorin drove right  against the bodyguards of  Bolg. But he could not pierce
their ranks. Already behind him among  the goblin dead lay many men and many
dwarves, and many a fair elf that should have lived yet long ages merrily in
the wood. And as the valley widened his onset grew  ever slower. His numbers
were  too few.  His flanks were unguarded. Soon the attackers were attacked,
and they were forced into a great  ring, facing every way, hemmed  all about
with goblins and wolves returning to the assault. The bodyguard of Bolg came
howling against them,  and drove in upon their ranks  like waves upon cliffs
of  sand. Their  friends  could not  help them,  for  the assault  from  the
Mountain was renewed with  redoubled force,  and  upon either side  men  and
elves were being slowly beaten down.
     On  all this  Bilbo  looked  with  misery.  He had  taken  his stand on
Ravenhill  among the  Elves-partly because there was more  chance  of escape
from that point, and partly (with the more Tookish part of his mind) because
if he was going to be  in a last  desperate stand, he preferred on the whole
to defend the Elvenking. Gandalf, too, I  may say, was there, sitting on the
ground as if in deep thought, preparing, I suppose, some last blast of magic
before the  end.  That  did  not  seem far off. "It will not be  long  now,"
thought Bilbo, "before the goblins win the Gate, and we  are all slaughtered
or driven down and captured. Really it is enough to make one weep, after all
one has gone  through. I would  rather  old Smaug had been left with all the
wretched  treasure, than that these vile creatures should  get  it, and poor
old Bombur, and Balin and Fili and Kili  and all the rest come to a bad end;
and Bard too, and the Lake-men  and the merry elves. Misery me! I have heard
songs of  many  battles,  and I have  always  understood that defeat may  be
glorious. It seems very uncomfortable, not to say distressing.  I wish I was
well out of it."
     The clouds  were torn  by the wind, and  a red sunset slashed the West.
Seeing the  sudden  gleam  in the gloom Bilbo looked round. He  gave a great
cry:  he had  seen a sight that  made his heart leap, dark  shapes small yet
majestic against the distant glow.
     "The Eagles! The Eagles!" he shouted. "The Eagles are coming!"
     Bilbo's eyes  were seldom wrong. The eagles  were coming down the wind,
line after line, in such a host as must have gathered from all the eyries of
the North.
     "The Eagles! the Eagles!" Bilbo cried, dancing and waving his arms.  If
the elves could not see him  they could hear him.  Soon they too took up the
cry,  and it echoed across the valley. Many wondering eyes looked up, though
as yet nothing  could  be  seen  except from the  southern  shoulders of the
Mountain.
     "The  Eagles!"  cried  Bilbo once  more,  but  at that  moment a  stone
hurtling  from above smote heavily on his helm, and he fell with a crash and
knew no more.

Chapter 18. The Return Journey

     When Bilbo came  to  himself, he was literally by himself. He was lying
on the  flat stones of Ravenhill, and  no one was near. A cloudless day, but
cold, was broad above him. He was shaking, and as chilled as stone,  but his
head burned with fire.
     "Now I wonder what has happened?" he said to himself. "At any rate I am
not yet  one of the fallen  heroes; but I suppose there is still time enough
for that!"
     He sat up painfully. Looking into the  valley he could  see  no  living
goblins. After a while as his head cleared a little, he thought he could see
elves moving in the rocks below. He rubbed his eyes. Surely there was a camp
still in the plain some distance off; and there was a coming and going about
the  Gate? Dwarves seemed to be  busy removing the wall.  But all was deadly
still. There was no call  and no echo of  a song. Sorrow seemed to be in the
air.  "Victory  after  all, I  suppose!" he  said,  feeling his aching head.
"Well, it seems a very gloomy business."
     Suddenly he was aware of a man climbing up and coming towards him.
     "Hullo there!" he called with a shaky voice. "Hullo there! What news?"
     "What  voice is it  that speaks among the stones?" said the man halting
and peering about him not far from where Bilbo sat.
     Then Bilbo  remembered  his  ring! "Well  I'm blessed!" said  he. "This
invisibility has its drawbacks after  all. Otherwise I suppose I  might have
spent a warm and comfortable night in bed!"
     "It's  me,  Bilbo Baggins,  companion of Thorin!"  he cried,  hurriedly
taking off the ring.
     "It is well that I have found you!" said the man striding forward. "You
are  needed and  we have looked for you  long. You would have  been numbered
among  the dead, who are many, if Gandalf the wizard  had not said that your
voice  was  last heard in this place.  I have been sent to look here for the
last time. Are you much hurt?"
     "A  nasty knock on the head, I think,"  said Bilbo.  "But I have a helm
and a hard skull. All the same I feel sick and my legs are like straws."
     "I will carry  you down to the camp  in the valley," said the man,  and
picked him lightly up.
     The man was swift and sure-footed. It was not long before Bilbo was set
down before  a  tent in  Dale; and there stood Gandalf,  with his  arm  in a
sling. Even the wizard had not escaped without a wound; and  there were  few
unharmed in all the host.
     When Gandalf  saw Bilbo,  he  was delighted. "Baggins!"  he  exclaimed.
"Well I never! Alive after all  -- 1 am glad! I began to wonder if even your
luck  would  see you  through!  A  terrible  business,  and  it  nearly  was
disastrous. But other news can wait.  Come!" he said more gravely. "You  are
called for;" and leading the hobbit he took him within the tent.
     "Hail! Thorin," he said as he entered. "I have brought him."
     There indeed lay Thorin Oakenshield, wounded with  many wounds, and his
rent armour and notched axe were cast  upon the floor. He looked up as Bilbo
came beside him.
     "Farewell, good thief,"  he said. "I go now to the halls  of waiting to
sit  beside  my fathers,  until the world is renewed.  Since I leave now all
gold  and silver, and go  where it is  of  little worth, I  wish  to part in
friendship from you, and I would take back my words and deeds at the Gate."
     Bilbo knelt on one knee filled with  sorrow. "Farewell, King  under the
Mountain!"  he said. "This is a bitter adventure, if it must end so; and not
a mountain of gold can amend it. Yet I  am  glad that I  have shared in your
perils -- that has been more than any Baggins deserves."
     "No!" said Thorin. "There is more in  you  of good than you know, child
of the kindly West. Some courage  and  some wisdom,  blended in  measure. If
more of us valued food and  cheer and song above hoarded gold, it would be a
merrier world. But sad or merry, I must leave it now. Farewell!"
     Then Bilbo turned away,  and he went by himself, and sat  alone wrapped
in  a  blanket, and,  whether you believe it  or not, he wept until his eyes
were red  and his voice was hoarse. He  was  a kindly little soul. Indeed it
was long  before he  had the heart to make a joke again. "A mercy it is," he
said at  last to himself,  "that I woke up when  I did.  I wish  Thorin were
living, but  I am glad  that we parted in kindness. You  are  a fool,  Bilbo
Baggins, and you made  a great  mess  of that  business with  the stone; and
there was a battle, in spite of all your efforts to buy peace and quiet, but
I suppose you can hardly be blamed for that."
     All that had happened after he was stunned, Bilbo learned later; but it
gave him more sorrow than joy, and he was now weary of his adventure. He was
aching  in his bones for  the homeward journey.  That, however, was a little
delayed, so in the meantime I will tell something of  events. The Eagles had
long had  suspicion of the  goblins' mustering; from their  watchfulness the
movements  in the  mountains could  not  be  altogether hid. So they too had
gathered in great numbers, under the great Eagle of the Misty Mountains; and
at length smelling battle from afar they had come speeding down the gale  in
the  nick  of  time.  They  it  was  who  dislodged  the  goblins  from  the
mountain-slopes,  casting  them  over  precipices,  or  driving  them   down
shrieking  and bewildered among their foes. It was not long before  they had
freed the Lonely  Mountain, and elves  and men on either side of the  valley
could come at last to the help of the battle below.
     But even with the Eagles they were still outnumbered.
     In that last hour Beorn himself had appeared -- no one knew how or from
where. He came  alone, and  in bear's shape;  and he  seemed  to have  grown
almost to giant-size in his wrath. The roar of his voice was like drums  and
guns;  and he  tossed  wolves  and goblins  from  his path like  straws  and
feathers. He fell upon their rear, and  broke like a clap of thunder through
the ring. The dwarves were making a stand still about their lords upon a low
rounded hill.  Then Beorn stooped and  lifted Thorin, who had fallen pierced
with spears, and bore him out of the fray. Swiftly he returned and his wrath
was redoubled, so that nothing  could withstand him, and no weapon seemed to
bite upon him. He scattered the bodyguard, and pulled down Bolg himself  and
crushed  him.  Then  dismay fell  on  the  Goblins  and  they  fled  in  all
directions. But weariness  left their enemies with the coming  of  new hope,
and  they pursued them  closely,  and prevented most  of them  from escaping
where they could. They  drove many of them into the Running River, and  such
as fled south or west they  hunted into the marshes about the Forest  River;
and there the greater part of the  last fugitives perished, while those that
came hardly to the Wood-elves' realm were there slain, or drawn in to die in
the  trackless  dark of Mirkwood.  Songs have  said  that three parts of the
goblin  warriors of the North perished  on that  day, and the mountains  had
peace for many a year.
     Victory had been  assured before the fall of night, but the pursuit was
still on  foot, when  Bilbo  returned to the  camp; and not many were in the
valley save the more grievously wounded.
     "Where  are  the Eagles?"  he  asked  Gandalf  that evening, as he  lay
wrapped in many warm blankets.
     "Some are in the hunt," said the wizard, "but most have  gone  back  to
their eyries. They would not stay here, and departed with the first light of
morning. Dain  has crowned their  chief with gold, and sworn friendship with
them for ever."
     "I am sorry. I mean, I should have liked to see them again," said Bilbo
sleepily; "perhaps I shall see them on the way home.  I  suppose  I shall be
going home soon?"
     "As soon as you like," said the wizard.
     Actually it was some days before Bilbo really set out.
     They buried  Thorin  deep  beneath  the  Mountain,  and  Bard  laid the
Arkenstone upon his breast.
     "There let it lie till the Mountain falls!" he said. "May it bring good
fortune to all his folk that  dwell here after!" Upon his tomb the Elvenking
then laid  Orcrist,  the elvish  sword  that  had been taken  from Thorin in
captivity. It  is said in  songs that it gleamed ever  in the dark  if  foes
approached, and the fortress of the  dwarves could not be taken by surprise.
There now Dain son of Nain took up his abode,  and he became King under  the
Mountain,  and in  time many  other  dwarves gathered to his throne  in  the
ancient  halls. Of the twelve companions of Thorin, ten  remained.  Fili and
Kili  had  fallen defending  him  with shield  and body, for  he  was  their
mother's  elder brother.  The others remained with Dain; for Dain dealt  his
treasure well. There was, of course, no longer any question of dividing  the
hoard in such shares as had been planned, to  Balin and Dwalin, and Dori and
Nori and Ori, and Oin and Gloin, and Bifur and Bofur and Bombur-or to Bilbo.
Yet a  fourteenth share of all  the  silver and gold, wrought and unwrought,
was given up to Bard; for Dain  said:  "We will honour the agreement of  the
dead, and he has now the Arkenstone in his keeping."
     Even a fourteenth share was wealth exceedingly great, greater than that
of many mortal kings. From that treasure Bard  sent much gold to the  Master
of  Lake-town;  and  he rewarded his followers and  friends  freely.  To the
Elvenking he  gave  the  emeralds of Girion, such  jewels as he most  loved,
which Dain had restored to him. To Bilbo he said: "This treasure is as  much
yours as it is mine;  though old agreements cannot stand, since so many have
a claim in its winning  and defence. Yet even though you were willing to lay
aside all your  claim, I should  wish that the words of Thorin, of which  he
repented,  should not  prove  true: that  we should give you little. I would
reward you most richly of all."
     "Very kind of  you," said Bilbo. "But really  it is a relief to me. How
on earth should I have got all that treasure home without war and murder all
along the  way, I don't know. And I don't know what  I should have done with
it when I got home. I am sure it is better in your hands."
     In the end he would only take two small chests, one filled with silver,
and the other with gold, such as one strong pony could carry.  "That will be
quite as much as I can manage," said he.
     At last  the  time came  for  him  to  say  good-bye  to  his  friends.
"Farewell, Balin!" he said; "and farewell, Dwalin; and farewell Dori,  Nori,
Ori, Oin, Gloin, Bifur, Bofur, and Bombur! May your beards never grow thin!"
And turning towards the Mountain he added: "Farewell Thorin Oakenshield! And
Fili and Kili! May your memory never fade!"
     Then the  dwarves bowed low before their Gate, but words stuck in their
throats. "Good-bye and good  luck, wherever you  fare!" said Balin  at last.
"If  ever you visit us again, when  our halls  are made fair once more, then
the feast shall indeed be splendid!"
     "If ever you are passing my way," said Bilbo, "don't wait to knock! Tea
is at four; but any of you are welcome at any time!"
     Then he turned away.
     The elf-host was on the march;. and if it was sadly lessened, yet  many
were glad, for now the northern world would be merrier  for many a long day.
The  dragon was  dead, and the goblins overthrown,  and their hearts  looked
forward after winter to a spring of  joy. Gandalf and Bilbo  rode behind the
Elvenking, and beside  them strode Beorn, once again  in man's shape, and he
laughed and sang in a loud voice  upon the road. So  they went on until they
drew  near to  the borders of  Mirkwood, to the north of the place where the
Forest River ran out.
     Then they halted, for  the wizard  and Bilbo would  not enter the wood,
even though the king bade them stay a while in  his  halls. They intended to
go along the edge of  the forest, and  round its  northern  end in the waste
that lay between it and the beginning of the Grey Mountains.  It  was a long
and cheerless  road, but now that the goblins were crushed, it seemed  safer
to them than the dreadful pathways under the trees. Moreover Beorn was going
that way too.
     "Farewell! O Elvenking!" said Gandalf.  "Merry  be the greenwood, while
the world is yet young! And merry be all your folk!"
     "Farewell!  O Gandalf!" said  the king.  "May you ever appear where you
are most needed and least  expected! The oftener you  appear in my halls the
better shall I be pleased!"
     "I beg of  you,"  said  Bilbo stammering  and standing on one foot, "to
accept this gift!" and  he brought out a necklace of silver and  pearls that
Dain had given him at their parting.
     "In what way have I earned such a gift, O hobbit?" said the king.
     "Well,  er,  I thought, don't  you  know," said  Bilbo rather confused,
"that, er, some little return should be made  for  your,  er, hospitality. I
mean even  a burglar has his feelings.  I  have drunk much  of your wine and
eaten much of your bread."
     "I  will  take  your  gift,  O Bilbo  the Magnificent!"  said  the king
gravely. "And I name you elf-friend and blessed.  May your shadow never grow
less (or stealing would be too easy)! Farewell!"
     Then the elves turned towards the Forest, and Bilbo started on his long
road home.
     He had many hardships and adventures before he  got back.  The Wild was
still the Wild, and there were many other things in it in those days besides
goblins; but he  was  well guided and well guarded-the wizard was with  him,
and Beorn for much of the way-and he was never in great danger again. Anyway
by mid-winter Gandalf and Bilbo had come all the way back, along  both edges
of  the  Forest, to the doors of Beorn's house; and there for  a while  they
both stayed.  Yule-tide was warm and merry there; and men came from far  and
wide  to  feast at  Beorn's bidding. The goblins of the Misty Mountains were
now few and  terrified, and hidden in the deepest holes they could find; and
the Wargs had vanished from the woods, so that men went abroad without fear.
Beorn  indeed became a  great chief afterwards in  those regions and ruled a
wide  land between the mountains and the wood;  and it is said that for many
generations the men of his line  had  the power of taking bear's shape,  and
some were grim men and  bad, but most were in heart  like  Beorn, if less in
size and  strength. In their day the last goblins were hunted from the Misty
Mountains and a new peace came over the edge of the Wild. It was spring, and
a fair one with  mild  weathers and a bright sun, before  Bilbo  and Gandalf
took their leave at last of Beorn, and though he longed for home. Bilbo left
with regret, for  the flowers of the gardens  of Beorn were  m springtime no
less marvellous than in high summer. At last they came up the long road, and
reached the very pass where the goblins had captured them  before.  But they
came  to  that high point at morning, and looking backward  they saw a white
sun shining over the out-stretched lands. There behind lay Mirkwood, blue in
the  distance, and darkly green at the nearer edge even in the spring. There
far  away was  the  Lonely Mountain on the  edge of eyesight. On its highest
peak snow yet unmelted was gleaming pale.
     "So comes snow after fire, and  even  dragons have their  ending!" said
Bilbo, and he turned his back on his adventure. The Tookish part was getting
very tired,  and the Baggins was daily getting stronger. "I wish now only to
be in my own arm-chair!" he said.

Chapter 19. The Last Stage

     It was on May the First that the two came back at last to  the brink of
the valley of Rivendell, where  stood the  Last (or the First) Homely House.
Again  it  was evening,  their ponies were  tired, especially the  one  that
carried the baggage; and they all felt  in need  of rest. As  they rode down
the steep path, Bilbo heard the elves still singing in the trees, as if they
had not stopped since  he left; and  as soon as their riders came down  into
the lower glades of the wood they burst into a song of much the same kind as
before. This is something like it:

     The dragon is withered,
     His bones are now crumbled;
     His armour is shivered,
     His splendour is humbled!
     Though sword shall be rusted,
     And throne and crown perish
     With strength that men trusted
     And wealth that they cherish,
     Here grass is still growing,
     And leaves are yet swinging,
     The white water flowing,
     And elves are yet singing
     Come! Tra-la-la-lally!
     Come back to the valley!

     The stars are far brighter
     Than gems without measure,
     The moon is far whiter
     Than silver in treasure:
     The fire is more shining
     On hearth in the gloaming
     Than gold won by mining,
     So why go a-roaming?
     O! Tra-la-la-lally
     Come back to the Valley.

     O! Where are you going,
     So late in returning?
     The river is flowing,
     The stars are all burning!
     O! Whither so laden,
     So sad and so dreary?
     Here elf and elf-maiden
     Now welcome the weary
     With Tra-la-la-lally
     Come back to the Valley,
     Tra-la-la-lally
     Fa-la-la-lally
     Fa-la!

     Then  the elves  of the valley came  out and greeted them and  led them
across the water to the house of Elrond. There a warm welcome was made them,
and there were many  eager ears that  evening  to  hear  the  tale of  their
adventures. Gandalf it was who spoke, for Bilbo was fallen quiet and drowsy.
Most of the tale he knew, for he  had been in it, and had himself  told much
of  it to the  wizard  on their homeward  way or in the house of Beorn;  but
every now and again he would open one  eye,  and listen, when  a part of the
story which he did  not yet know came in. It was in this way that he learned
where Gandalf had  been  to; for he  overheard the  words  of  the wizard to
Elrond.  It appeared that Gandalf had been  to  a great council of the white
wizards, masters of lore and good  magic; and that  they had at last  driven
the Necromancer from his dark hold in the south of Mirkwood.
     "Ere long now," Gandalf was saying, "The Forest will grow somewhat more
wholesome. The North will be freed  from that horror for many  long years, I
hope. Yet I wish he were banished from the world!"
     "It would be well indeed," said Elrond; "but I fear that will  not come
about in this age of the world, or for many after."
     When the tale of their joumeyings was told, there were other tales, and
yet more tales, tales of long ago, and  tales . of new things, and tales  of
no time at all, till  Bilbo's head fell  forward on his chest, and he snored
comfortably in a corner.
     He woke to find himself in a white bed, and the moon shining through an
open window. Below it many elves were singing loud and clear on the banks of
the stream.

     Sing all ye joyful, now sing all together?
     The wind's in the free-top, the wind's in the heather;
     The stars are in blossom, the moon is in flower,
     And bright are the windows of Night in her tower.

     Dance all ye joyful, now dance all together!
     Soft is the grass, and let foot be like feather!
     The river is silver, the shadows are fleeting;
     Merry is May-time, and merry our meeting.

     Sing we now softly, and dreams let us weave him!
     Wind him in slumber and there let us leave him!
     The wanderer sleepeth. Now soft be his pillow!
     Lullaby! Lullaby! Alder and Willow!

     Sigh no more Pine, till the wind of the morn!
     Fall Moon! Dark be the land!
     Hush! Hush! Oak, Ash, and Thorn!
     Hushed be all water, till dawn is at hand!

     "Well, Merry People!" said Bilbo looking out. "What time by the moon is
this? Your lullaby would waken a drunken goblin! Yet I thank you."
     "And your  snores would waken a stone dragon -- yet we thank you," they
answered with laughter. "It is drawing towards dawn,  and you have slept now
since  the  night's  beginning.  Tomorrow,  perhaps,  you  will be  cured of
weariness."
     "A  little sleep does a  great cure in the  house of Elrond," said  he;
"but I will take all the cure I can get. A second good night, fair friends!"
And with that he went back to bed and slept till late morning.
     Weariness  fell from him  soon  in that house, and he had  many a merry
jest and dance, early  and late, with the elves of the valley. Yet even that
place could not long  delay him now, and he thought always of  his own home.
After  a  week, therefore, he said farewell to  Elrond, and giving him  such
small gifts as he would accept, he rode away with Gandalf. Even as they left
the valley the sky darkened in the West before them, and wind and  rain came
up to meet them.
     "Merry is May-time!" said Bilbo, as  the rain beat into his face.  "But
our  back is to legends and we  are coming home.  I suppose  this is a first
taste of it."
     "There is a long road yet," said Gandalf.
     "But it  is the  last  road," said Bilbo. They came to  the river  that
marked the very edge of  the borderland of the Wild, and to the ford beneath
the steep bank,  which you may remember. The water was swollen both with the
melting  of the snows at the approach of summer, and with the  daylong rain;
but they crossed with some difficulty, and pressed forward, as evening fell,
on the  last stage  of their journey. This  was much  as it had been before,
except that the company was smaller, and more silent; also  this  time there
were no trolls. At each point on the  road Bilbo recalled the happenings and
the words of  a year ago-it seemed to him more like  ten-so that, of course,
he quickly  noted the place where the pony had fallen in the river, and they
had turned aside for their nasty adventure with Tom and  Bert  and Bill. Not
far from the road they found the  gold of the trolls, which they had buried,
still hidden and  untouched. "I have enough to last me my time," said Bilbo,
when they had dug it up. "You had  better take this, Gandalf. I daresay  you
can find a use for it."
     "Indeed I  can!" said  the wizard.  "But share and share alike! You may
find you have more needs than you expect."
     So they put the gold in bags and slung them on the ponies, who were not
at all pleased about it. After that their going  was slower, for most of the
time  they walked.  But the land  was green and there was much grass through
which the hobbit strolled along  contentedly. He mopped his face with  a red
silk handkerchief-no! not a single one of  his  own  had  survived,  he  had
borrowed  this one  from  Elrond --for now June had brought  summer, and the
weather was bright and hot again.
     As all things come to an end, even this story, a day  came at last when
they were in sight of the country  where Bilbo had been born and bred, where
the shapes  of  the land and of  the trees were as well known to him as  his
hands and toes. Coming to a rise he could see his  own Hill in the distance,
and he stopped suddenly and said:

     Roads go ever ever on,
     Over rock and under tree,
     By caves where never sun has shone,
     By streams that never find the sea;

     Over snow by winter sown,
     And through the merry flowers of June,
     Over grass and over stone,
     And under mountains in the moon.

     Roads go ever ever on
     Under cloud and under star,
     Yet feet that wandering have gone
     Turn at last to home afar.

     Eyes that fire and sword have seen
     And horror in the halls of stone
     Look at last on meadows green
     And trees and hills they long have known.

     Gandalf  looked  at him.  "My dear  Bilbo!" he said. "Something  is the
matter with you! You are not the hobbit that you were."
     And  so  they crossed the bridge and passed the mill by  the  river and
came right back to Bilbo's  own door. "Bless me! What's going on?" he cried.
There  was  a  great commotion,  and people  of all  sorts, respectable  and
unrespectable, were thick round the door, and many were going in and out-not
even wiping their feet on the mat, as Bilbo noticed with annoyance.
     If  he was  surprised, they were more surprised  still. He had  arrived
back in the middle of an auction! There was a large notice  in black and red
hung on  the gate,  stating  that on  June the Twenty-second  Messrs. Grubb,
Grubb,  and Bun-owes would  sell by  auction the  effects of  the late Bilbo
Baggins Esquire, of Bag-End, Underhill,  Hobbiton. Sale to  commence at  ten
o'clock  sharp. It  was now  nearly  lunch-time, and most of  the things had
already been sold, for various prices  from next to nothing to old songs (as
is not unusual at auctions). Bilbo's cousins  the  Sackville-Bagginses were,
in fact,  busy measuring  his rooms to see if their own furniture would fit.
In short Bilbo was "Presumed Dead," and not everybody that said so was sorry
to find the presumption wrong.
     The return of Mr. Bilbo Baggins created quite a disturbance, both under
the Hill and  over the Hill, and across the Water;  it was a great deal more
than a nine days' wonder. The legal bother, indeed, lasted for years. It was
quite a long time before Mr. Baggins was in fact admitted to be alive again.
The people who had got  specially good  bargains at the Sale took a deal  of
convincing; and in the end to sav6 time Bilbo had to buy back quite a lot of
his own furniture.  Many of his  silver spoons  mysteriously disappeared and
were never  accounted for. Personally  he suspected the Sackville-Bagginses.
On their side they never admitted that the returned Baggins was genuine, and
they  were  not on  friendly terms with  Bilbo  ever after. They really  had
wanted to live in his nice hobbit-hole so very much.
     Indeed Bilbo  found  he had lost  more  than  spoons -- he had lost his
reputation. It is true  that for ever after he remained an  elf-friend,  and
had the honour of dwarves,  wizards, and all such  folk as  ever passed that
way; but he was no longer quite respectable. He was in fact  held by all the
hobbits of the neighbourhood to be 'queer'-except by his nephews  and nieces
on the Took side,  but even they  were not encouraged in their friendship by
their elders. I am sorry to say he did  not mind. He was quite  content; and
the sound of the kettle on his  hearth was ever  after  more musical than it
had been even in the  quiet  days before the Unexpected Party. His sword  he
hung over the mantelpiece. His coat of mail was  arranged on a stand in  the
hall (until he lent it  to a Museum). His gold and  silver was largely spent
in  presents,  both  useful  and extravagant --  which  to  a certain extent
accounts for the affection of his nephews and  his nieces. His magic ring he
kept a great secret, for he chiefly used it when unpleasant callers came. He
took to writing poetry and visiting the elves; and though  many shook  their
heads  and touched  their foreheads and said "Poor  old Baggins!" and though
few believed  any of his  tales, he  remained very happy to  the end of  his
days, and those were extraordinarily long.
     One autumn evening some years afterwards Bilbo was sitting in his study
writing his  memoirs --  he thought of calling them "There and Back Again, a
Hobbit's Holiday" -- when there was a ring at the door. It was Gandalf and a
dwarf; and the dwarf was actually Balin.
     "Come in! Come in!" said Bilbo, and soon they were settled in chairs by
the fire.  If Balin noticed  that Mr. Baggins' waistcoat was  more extensive
(and  had  real  gold  buttons),  Bilbo also noticed  that Balm's beard  was
several inches longer, and his jewelled belt was of great magnificence.
     They fell  to talking of  their times together,  of  course, and  Bilbo
asked how things were going  in  the  lands of the Mountain. It  seemed they
were going very well. Bard had rebuilt the town in Dale and men had gathered
to him from the Lake and from  South and West, and all the valley had become
tilled again  and  rich,  and the desolation  was now filled  with birds and
blossoms in  spring and fruit  and  feasting in  autumn.  And  Lake-town was
refounded  and was  more prosperous than ever, and  much wealth went  up and
down  the Running River;  and there was friendship  in those  parts  between
elves and dwarves and men.
     The old Master had come to a bad end. Bard had given him  much gold for
the help  of the Lake-people, but being of the kind that easily catches such
disease he  fell  under the  dragon-sickness, and took  most of the gold and
fled  with it, and  died  of  starvation  in  the  Waste,  deserted  by  his
companions.
     "The new Master is of wiser kind," said Balin, "and very  popular, for,
of course,  he gets most of the  credit for the present prosperity. They are
making songs which say that in his day the rivers run with gold."
     "Then the prophecies of the old songs have turned out to be true, after
a fashion!" said Bilbo.
     "Of course!" said Gandalf. "And why should not  they prove true? Surely
you don't disbelieve the prophecies, because you had a hand in bringing them
about  yourself? You don't really suppose, do you, that  all your adventures
and escapes were managed by mere luck, just for your sole benefit? You are a
very fine person, Mr. Baggins,  and I am very fond of you; but you are  only
quite a little fellow in a wide world after all!"
     "Thank goodness!" said Bilbo laughing, and handed him the tobacco-jar.

     *( Look at the map at the beginning of this book, and you  will see the
runes there.

     ( Son of Azog. See p. 37

Last-modified: Mon, 15 Nov 1999 22:30:58 GMT