THE 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.
JRR TOLKIEN
T H E H O B B I T
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 tubeshaped
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 smokering.
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 goodmorninged
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 grandfather
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-seedcake,
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-aling-'
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, it 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 mincepies
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 mantelpiece,
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 smokering
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 walkingstick.
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 hobbitmay
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 drawingroom
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 realise that this was
only poetical exaggeration applied to any hobbit, even to Old Took's greatgranduncle
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 grocerthan
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 teatime."
"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 faroff
(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 Smaugif
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 diningroom.
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 thankyou"
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 Lonelands
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 tomorrow," 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 snowpeaks
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 safetyalso
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 suppertime
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, thirteenand
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 Foehammer
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-ofdoors
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 goblinguards,
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 wolvesespecially
against the evil packs that lived under the shadow of the goblininfested
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 wellarmed,
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 battleground.
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 oakwood
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 beepastures."
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 rushbottoms
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 smokehole
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 figureeights,
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 wolfglade
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 wolfallies
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 hobbithole
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 spiderpoison,
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 Woodelves,
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 Deepelves
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 watergate.
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 airholes
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 Laketown,
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 mountainside,
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 pockethandkerchief
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 redstained
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 rockshadows
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 dragonslayings
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 dwarflinked
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 batteringrams
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 lightunless,
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 dragonhaunted
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 today."
"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 grimvoiced
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 Laketown
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 birdspeech).
"I am Rac 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 Rac. "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, Rac 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 Rac; "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 carechiefly
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 Rac, "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 elfprinces
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 ironbound
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 Rac
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 batcloud
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 wolfriders,
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 mountainslopes,
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.