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Chapter 13 Not at Home
In the meanwhile, the dwarves sat in darkness, and utter silence fell about them. Little
they ate and little they spoke. They could not count the passing of time; and they scarcely
dared to move, for the whisper of their voices echoed and rustled in the tunnel. If they
dozed, they woke still to darkness and to silence going on unbroken. At last after days
and days of waiting, as it seemed, when they were becoming choked and dazed for want of
air, they could bear it no longer. They would almost have welcomed sounds from below of
the dragon's return. In the silence they feared some cunning devilry of his, but they could
not sit there for ever.
Thorin spoke: "Let us try the door!" he said. "I must feel the wind on my face soon or die.
I think I would rather be smashed by Smaug in the open than suffocate in here!"
So several of the dwarves got up and groped back to where the door had been. But they
found that the upper end of the tunnel had been shattered and blocked with broken rock.
Neither key nor the magic it had once obeyed would ever open that door again.
"We are trapped!" they groaned. "This is the end. We shall die here." But somehow, just
when the dwarves were most despairing, Bilbo felt a strange lightening of the heart, as
if a heavy weight had gone from under his waistcoat.
"Come, come!" he said. "While there's life there's hope!" as my father used to say, and
'Third time pays for all.' I am going down the tunnel once again. I have been that way
twice, when I knew there was a dragon at the other end, so I will risk a third visit when
I am no longer sure. Anyway the only way out is down. And I think time you had better all
come with me." In desperation they agreed, and Thorin was the first go forward by Bilbo's
side.
"Now do be careful!" whispered the hobbit, "and quiet as you can be! There may be no
Smaug at the bottom but then again there may be. Don't let us take any unnecessary risks!"
Down, down they went. The dwarves could not, course, compare with the hobbit in real stealth,
and the made a deal of puffing and shuffling which echoes magnified alarmingly; but though
every now and again Bilbo in fear stopped and listened, not a sound stirred below Near
the bottom, as well as he could judge, Bilbo slipped on his ring and went ahead. But he
did not need it: the darkness was complete, and they were all invisible, ring or no ring.
In fact so black was it that the hobbit came to the opening unexpectedly, put his hand
on air, stumbled for ward, and rolled headlong into the hall! There he lay face downwards
on the floor and did no dare to get up, or hardly even to breathe. But nothing moved.
There was not a gleam of light-unless, as seemed to him, when at last he slowly raised
his head, there was a pale white glint, above him and far off in the gloom. But certainly
it was not a spark of dragon-fire, though the wormstench was heavy in the place, and
the taste of vapour was on his tongue.
At length Mr. Baggins could bear it no longer. "Come found you, Smaug, you worm!" he squeaked
aloud. "Stop playing hide-and-seek! Give me a light, and then eat me if you can catch
me!"
Faint echoes ran round the unseen hall, but there was no answer. Bilbo got up, and found
that he did not know in what direction to turn. "Now I wonder what on earth Smaug is
playing at," he said. "He is not at home today (or tonight, or whatever it is), I do believe.
If Oin and Gloin have not lost their time tinder-boxes, perhaps we can make a little
light, and have a look round before the luck turns."
"Light!" he cried. "Can anybody make a light?"
The dwarves, of course, were very alarmed when Bilbo fell forward down the step with
a bump into the hall, and they sat huddled just where he had left them at the end the
tunnel.
"Sh! sh!" they hissed, when they heard his voice: and though that helped the hobbit to
find out where they were, was some time before he could get anything else out of them. But
in the end, when Bilbo actually began to stamp in the floor, and screamed out light!' at
the top of his thrill voice, Thorin gave way, and Oin and Gloin were sent back to their
bundles at the top of the tunnel. After a while a twinkling gleam showed them returning,
in with a small pine-torch alight in his hand, and Gloin with a bundle of others under his
arm. Quickly Bilbo trotted to the door and took the torch; but he could not persuade
the dwarves to light the others or to come and join him yet. As Thorin carefully explained,
Mr. Baggins was still officially their expert burglar and investigator. If he liked to risk
a light, that was his affair. They would wait in the tunnel for his report. So they sat
near the door and watched.
They saw the little dark shape of the hobbit start across the floor holding his tiny light
aloft. Every now and again, while he was still near enough, they caught a glint and a ***
as he stumbled on some golden thing. The light grew smaller as he wandered away into the
vast hall; then it began to rise dancing into the air. Bilbo was climbing the great mound
of treasure. Soon he stood upon the top, and still went on. Then they saw him halt and
stoop for a moment; but they did not know the reason. It was the Arkenstone, the Heart
of the Mountain. So Bilbo guessed from Thorin's description; but indeed there could not be
two such gems, even in so marvellous a hoard, even in all the world. Ever as he climbed,
the same white gleam had shone before him and drawn his feet towards Slowly it grew
to a little globe of pallid light. Now as came near, it was tinged with a flickering
sparkle of man colours at the surface, reflected and splintered from the wavering light of
his torch. At last he looked down upon it and he caught his breath. The great jewel
shone before he feet of its own inner light, and yet, cut and fashioned by the dwarves,
who had dug it from the heart of the mountain long ago, it took all light that fell upon
it and-changes it into ten thousand sparks of white radiance shot with glints of the
rainbow.
Suddenly Bilbo's arm went towards it drawn by it enchantment. His small hand would not
close about it for it was a large and heavy gem; but he lifted it, shut his eyes, and
put it in his deepest pocket.
"Now I am a burglar indeed!" thought he. "But I suppose I must tell the dwarves about it-some
time. The did say I could pick and choose my own share; and I think I would choose this,
if they took all the rest!" All the same he had an uncomfortable feeling that the picking
and choosing had not really been meant to include this marvellous gem, and that trouble
would yet come of it. Now he went on again. Down the other side of the great mound he
climbed, and the spark of his torch vanished from the sight of the watching dwarves. But
soon they saw it far away in the distance again. Bilbo was crossing the floor of the
hall.
He went on, until he came to the great doors at the further side, and there a draught of
air refreshed him, but it almost puffed out his light. He peeped timidly through and caught
a glimpse of great passages and of the dim beginnings of wide stairs going up into the
gloom. And still there was no sight nor sound of Smaug. He was just going to turn and go
back, when a black shape swooped at him and brushed his face. He squeaked and started,
stumbled backwards and fell. His torch dropped head downwards and went out! "Only a bat,
I suppose and hope!" he said miserably. But now what am I to do? Which is East, South,
North West?"
"Thorin! Balin! Oin! Gloin! Fill! Kili!" he cried as loud he could-it seemed a thin little
noise in the wide blackness. "The light's gone out! Someone come and find and help me!"
For the moment his courage had failed together.
Faintly the dwarves heard his small cries, though the only word they could catch was
'help!'
"Now what on earth or under it has happened?" said Thorin. "Certainly not the dragon, or
he would not go on squeaking."
They waited a moment or two, and still there were no dragon-noises, no sound at all in
fact but Bilbo's distant voice. "Come, one of you, get another light or two!" Thorin
ordered. "It seems we have got to go and help our burglar."
"It is about our turn to help," said Balin, "and I am quite willing to go. Anyway I expect
it is safe for the moment."
Gloin lit several more torches, and then they all crept out, one by one, and went along
the wall as hurriedly as they could. It was not long before they met Bilbo himself coming
back towards them. His wits had quickly returned soon as he saw the twinkle of their lights.
"Only a bat and a dropped torch, nothing worse!" he said in answer to their questions. Though
they were much relieved, they were inclined to be grumpy at being frightened for nothing;
but what they would have said, if he had told them at that moment about the Arkenstone,
I don't know. The mere fleeting glimpses of treasure which they had caught as they went
along had rekindled all the fire of their dwarvish hearts; and when the heart of a dwarf,
even the most respectable, is wakened by gold and by jewels, he grows suddenly bold, and
he may become fierce.
The dwarves indeed no longer needed any urging. All were now eager to explore the hall while
they had the chance, and willing to believe that, for the present, Smaug was away from
home. Each now gripped a lighted torch; and as they gazed, first on one side and then
on another, they forgot fear and even caution. They spoke aloud, and cried out to one another,
as they lifted old treasures from the mound or from the wall and held them in the light
caressing and fingering them. Fili and Kili were almost in merry mood, and finding still
hanging there many golden harps strung with silver they took them and struck them; and
being magical (and also untouched by the dragon, who had small interests in music) they were
still in tune. The dark hall was filled with a melody that had long been silent. But most
of the dwarves were more practical; they gathered gems and stuffed their pockets, and let what
they could not carry far back through their fingers with a sigh. Thorin was not least
among these; but always he searched from side to side for something which he could not find.
It was the Arkenstone but he spoke of it yet to no one.
Now the dwarves took down mail and weapons from the walls, and armed themselves. Royal
indeed did Thorin look, clad in a coat of gold-plated rings, with a silver hafted axe
in a belt crusted with scarlet stones. "Mr. Baggins!" he cried. "Here is the first payment
of your reward! Cast off your old coat and put on this!"
With that he put on Bilbo a small coat of mail, wrought for some young elf-prince long
ago. It was of silver-steel which the elves call mithril, and with it went a belt of pearls
and crystals. A light helm of figured leather, strengthened beneath with hoops of steel,
and studded about the bring with white gems, was set upon the hobbit's head.
"I feel magnificent," he thought; "but I expect I look rather absurd. How they would laugh
on the Hill at home Still I wish there was a looking-glass handy!"
All the same Mr. Baggins kept his head more clear of the bewitchment of the hoard than
the dwarves did. Long before the dwarves were tired of examining the treasures he became
wary of it and sat down on the floor; and he began to wonder nervously what the end
of it all would be "I would give a good many of these precious goblets, thought, "for a
drink of something cheering out of one Beorn's wooden bowls!" "Thorin!" he cried aloud. "What
next? We are armed, but what good has any armour ever been before against Smaug the
Dreadful? This treasure is not yet won back. We are not looking for gold yet, but for a
way of escape; and we have tempted luck too long!"
'"You speak the truth!" answered Thorin, recovering his wits. "Let us go! I will guide you. Not
in a thousand years should I forget the ways of this palace." Then he hailed the others,
and they gathered together, and holding their torches above their heads they passed through
the gaping doors, not without many a backward glance of longing.
Their glittering mail they had covered again with their old cloaks and their bright helms
with their tattered hoods, and one by one they walked behind Thorin, a line of little
lights in the darkness that halted often, listening in fear once more for any rumour
of the dragon's coming. Though all the old adornments were long mouldered or destroyed,
and though all was befouled and blasted with the comings and goings of the monster, Thorin
knew every passage and every turn. They climbed long stairs, and turned and went down wide
echoing ways, and turned again and climbed yet more stairs, and yet more' stairs again.
These were smooth, cut out of the living rock broad and lair; and up, up, the dwarves went,
and they met no sign of any living thing, only furtive shadows that fled from the approach
of their torches fluttering in the draughts. The steps were not made, all the same, for
hobbit-legs, and Bilbo was just feeling that he could go on no longer, when suddenly the
roof sprang high and far beyond the reach of their torch-light. A white glimmer could
be seen coming through some opening far above, and the air smelt sweeter. Before them light
came dimly through great doors, that hung twisted on their hinges and half burnt.
"This is the great chamber of Thror," said Thorin; "the hall of feasting and of council.
Not far off now is the Front Gate."
They passed through the ruined chamber. Tables were rotting there; chairs and benches were
lying there overturned, charred and decaying. Skulls and bones were upon the floor among
flagons and bowls and broken drinking-horns and dust. As they came through yet more doors
at the further end, a sound of water fell upon their ears, and the grey light grew suddenly
more full. "There is the birth of the Running River," said Thorin. "From here it hastens
to the Gate. Let us follow it!"
Out of a dark opening in a wall of rock there issued a boiling water, and it flowed swirling
in a narrow channel, carved and made straight and deep by the cunning of ancient hands.
Beside it ran a stone-paved road, wide enough for many men abreast. Swiftly along this they
ran, and round a wide-sweeping turn-and behold! before them stood the broad light of day.
In front there rose a tall arch, still showing the fragments of old carven work within, worn
and splintered and blackened though it was. A misty sun sent its pale light between the
arms of the Mountain, and beams of gold fell on the pavement at the threshold.
A whirl of bats frightened from slumber by their smoking torches flurried over them;
as they sprang forward their feet slithered on stones rubbed smooth and slimed by the
passing of the dragon. Now before them the water fell noisily outward and foamed down
towards the valley. They flung their pale torches to the ground, and stood gazing out
with dazzled eyes. They were come to the Front Gate, and were looking out upon Dale.
"Well!" said Bilbo, "I never expected to be looking out of this door. And I never expected
to be so pleased to see the sun again, and to feel the wind on my face. But, ow! this
wind is cold!"
It was. A bitter easterly breeze blew with a threat of oncoming winter. It swirled over
and round the arms of the Mountain into the valley, and sighed among the rocks. After
their long time in the stewing depths of the dragon-haunted caverns, they shivered in the
sun. Suddenly Bilbo realized that he was not only tired but also very hungry indeed. "It
seems to be late morning," he said, "and so I suppose it is more or less breakfast-time
- if there is any breakfast to have. But I don't feel that Smaug's front doorstep is
the safest place for a meal. Do let's go somewhere where we can sit quiet for a bit!" "Quite
right!" said Balin. "And I think I know which way we should go: we ought to make for the
old look-out post at the Southwest corner of the Mountain."
"How far is that?" asked the hobbit.
"Five hours march, I should think. It will be rough going. The road from the Gate along
the left edge of the stream seems all broken up. But look down there! The river loops suddenly
east across Dale in front of the ruined town. At that point there was once a bridge, leading
to steep stairs that climbed up the right bank, and so to a road running towards Ravenhill.
There is (or was) a path that left the road and climbed up to the post. A hard climb,
too, even if the old steps are still there."
"Dear me!" grumbled the hobbit. "More walking and more climbing without breakfast! I wonder
how many breakfasts, and other meals, we have missed inside that nasty clockless, timeless
hole?"
As a matter of fact two nights and the day between had gone by (and not altogether without
food) since the dragon smashed the magic door, but Bilbo had quite lost count, and it might
have been one night or a week of nights for all he could tell.
"Come, come!" said Thorin laughing - his spirits had begun to rise again, and he rattled the
precious stones in his pockets. "Don't call my place a nasty hole! You wait till it has
been cleaned and redecorated!" "That won't be till Smaug's dead," said Bilbo glumly.
"In the meanwhile where is he? I would give a good breakfast to know. I hope he is not
up on the Mountain looking down at us!"
That idea disturbed the dwarves mightily, and they quickly decided that Bilbo and Balin
were right.
"We must move away from here," said Don. "I feel as if his eyes were on the back of my
head."
"It's a cold lonesome place," said Bombur. "There may be drink, but I see no sign of
food. A dragon would always be hungry in such parts." "Come on! Come on!" cried the others.
"Let us follow Balm's path!" Under the rocky wall to the right there was no path, so on
they trudged among the stones on the left side of the river, and the emptiness and desolation
soon sobered even Thorin again. The bridge that Balin had spoken of they found long fallen,
and most of its stones were now only boulders in the shallow noisy stream; but they forded
the water without much difficulty, and found the ancient steps, and climbed the high bank.
After going a short way they struck the old road, and before long came to a deep dell
sheltered among the rocks; there they rested for a while and had such a breakfast as they
could, chiefly cram and water. (If you want to know what cram is, I can only say that
I don't know the recipe; but it is biscuitish, keeps good indefinitely, is supposed to be
sustaining, and is certainly not entertaining, being in fact very uninteresting except as
a chewing exercise. It was made by the Lake-men for long journeys).
After that they went on again; and now the road struck westwards and left the river,
and the great shoulder of the south-pointing mountain-spur drew ever nearer. At length
they reached the hill path. It scrambled steeply up, and they plodded slowly one behind the
other, till at last in the late afternoon they came to the top of the ridge and saw
the wintry sun going downwards to the West.
Here they found a flat place without a wall on three sides, but backed to the North by
a rocky face in which there was an opening like a door. From that door there was a wide
view East and South and West. "Here," said Balin, "in the old days we used always to
keep watchmen, and that door behind leads into a rock-hewn chamber that was made here
as a guardroom. There were several places like it round the Mountain. But there seemed
small need for watching in the days of our prosperity, and the guards were made over
comfortable, perhaps - otherwise we might have had longer warnings of the coming of
the dragon, and things might have been different. Still, "here we can now lie hid and sheltered
for a while, and can see much without being seen."
"Not much use, if we have been seen coming here," said Dori, who was always looking up
towards the Mountain's peak, as if he expected to see Smaug perched there like a bird on
a steeple.
"We must take our chance of that," said Thorin. "We can go no further to-day."
"Hear, hear!" cried Bilbo, and flung himself on the ground.
In the rock-chamber there would have been room for a hundred, and there was a small
chamber further in, more removed from the cold outside. It was quite deserted; not even
wild animals seemed to have used it in all the days of Smaug's dominion. There they laid
their burdens; and some threw themselves down at once and slept, but the others sat near
the outer door and discussed their plans.
In all their talk they came perpetually back to one thing: where was
Smaug? They looked West and there was nothing, and East there was nothing, and in the South
there was no sign of the dragon, but there was a gathering of very many birds. At that
they gazed and wondered; but they were no nearer understanding it, when the first cold
stars came out.
Chapter 14 Fire and Water
Now if you wish, like the dwarves, to hear news of Smaug, you must go back again to the
evening when he smashed the door and flew off in rage, two days before.
The men of the lake-town Esgaroth were mostly indoors, for the breeze was from the black
East and chill, but a few were walking on the quays, and watching, as they were fond
of doing, the stars shine out from the smooth patches of the lake as they opened in the
sky. From their town the Lonely Mountain was mostly screened by the low hills at the far
end of the lake, through a gap in which the Running River came down from the North. Only
its high peak could they see in clear weather, and they looked seldom at it, for it was ominous
and dreary even in the light of morning. Now it was lost and gone, blotted in the dark.
Suddenly it flickered back to view; a brief glow touched it and faded. "Look!" said one.
"The lights again! Last night the watchmen saw them start and fade from midnight until
dawn. Something is happening up there." "Perhaps the King under the Mountain is forging gold,"
said another. "It is long since he went north. It is time the songs began to prove themselves
again."
"Which king?" said another with a grim voice. "As like as not it is the marauding fire of
the Dragon, the only king under the Mountain we have ever known."
"You are always foreboding gloomy things!" said the others. "Anything from floods to
poisoned fish. Think of something cheerful!" Then suddenly a great light appeared in the
low place in the hills and the northern end of the lake turned golden.
"The King beneath the Mountain!" they shouted. "His wealth is like the Sun, his silver like
a fountain, his rivers golden run! The river is running gold from the Mountain!" they cried,
and everywhere windows were opening and feet were hurrying.
There was once more a tremendous excitement and enthusiasm. But the grim-voiced fellow
ran hotfoot to the Master. "The dragon is coming or I am a fool!" he cried. "Cut the
bridges! To arms! To arms!"
Then warning trumpets were suddenly sounded, and echoed along the rocky shores. The cheering
stopped and the joy was turned to dread. So it was that the dragon did not find them quite
unprepared. Before long, so great was his speed, they could see him as a spark of fire
rushing towards them and growing ever huger and more bright, and not the most foolish
doubted that the prophecies had gone rather wrong. Still they had a little time. Every
vessel in the town was filled with water, every warrior was armed, every arrow and dart
was ready, and the bridge to the land was thrown down and destroyed, before the roar
of Smaug's terrible approach grew loud, and the lake rippled red as fire beneath the awful
beating of his wings.
Amid shrieks and wailing and the shouts of men he came over them, swept
towards the bridges and was foiled! The bridge was gone, and his enemies were on an island
in deep water-too deep and dark and cool for his liking. If he plunged into it, a vapour
and a steam would arise enough to cover all the land with a mist for days; but the lake
was mightier than he, it would quench him before he could pass through.
Roaring he swept back over the town. A hail of dark arrows leaped up and snapped and rattled
on his scales and jewels, and their shafts fell back kindled by his breath burning and
hissing into the lake. No fireworks you ever imagined equalled the sights that night. At
the twanging of the bows and the shrilling of the trumpets the dragon's wrath blazed
to its height, till he was blind and mad with it. No one had dared to give battle to him
for many an age; nor would they have dared now, if it had not been for the grim-voiced
man (Bard was his name), who ran to and fro cheering on the archers and urging the Master
to order them to fight to the last arrow.
Fire leaped from the dragon's jaws. He circled for a while high in the air above them lighting
all the lake; the trees by the shores shone like copper and like blood with leaping shadows
of dense black at their feet. Then down he swooped straight through the arrow-storm,
reckless in his rage, taking no heed to turn his scaly sides towards his foes, seeking
only to set their town ablaze.
Fire leaped from thatched roofs and wooden beam-ends as he hurtled down and past and
round again, though all had been drenched with water before he came. Once more water
was flung by a hundred hands wherever a spark appeared. Back swirled the dragon. A sweep
of his tail and the roof of the Great House crumbled and smashed down. Flames unquenchable
sprang high into the night. Another swoop and another, and another house and then another
sprang afire and fell; and still no arrow hindered Smaug or hurt him more than a fly
from the marshes. Already men were jumping into the water on every side. Women and children
were being huddled into laden boats in the market-pool. Weapons were flung down. There
was mourning and weeping, where but a little time ago the old songs of mirth to come had
been sung about the dwarves. Now men cursed their names. The Master himself was turning
to his great gilded boat, hoping to row away in the confusion and save himself. Soon all
the town would be deserted and burned down to the surface of the lake. That was the dragon's
hope. They could all get into boats for all he cared. There he could have fine sport hunting
them, or they could stop till they starved. Let them try to get to land and he would be
ready. Soon he would set all the shoreland woods ablaze and wither every field and pasture.
Just now he was enjoying the sport of town-baiting more than he had enjoyed anything for years.
But there was still a company of archers that held their ground among the burning houses.
Their captain was Bard, grim-voiced and grim-faced, whose friends had accused him of prophesying
floods and poisoned fish, though they knew his worth and courage. He was a descendant
in long line of Girion, Lord of Dale, whose wife and child had escaped down the Running
River from the ruin long ago. Now he shot with a great yew bow, till all his arrows
but one were spent. The flames were near him. His companions were leaving him. He bent his
bow for the last time. Suddenly out of the dark something fluttered to his shoulder.
He started-but it was only an old thrush. Unafraid it perched by his ear and it brought
him news. Marvelling he found he could understand its tongue, for he was of the race of Dale.
"Wait! Wait!" it said to him. "The moon is rising. Look for the hollow of the left breast
as he flies and turns above you!" And while Bard paused in wonder it told him of tidings
up in the Mountain and of all that it had heard. Then Bard drew his bow-string to his
ear. The dragon was circling back, flying low, and as he came the moon rose above the
eastern shore and silvered his great wings.
"Arrow!" said the bowman. "Black arrow! I have saved you to the last. You have never
failed me and always I have recovered you. I had you from my father and he from of old.
If ever you came from the forges of the true king under the Mountain, go now and speed
well!"
The dragon swooped once more lower than ever, and as he turned and dived down his belly
glittered white with sparkling fires of gems in the moon-but not in one place. The great
bow twanged. The black arrow sped straight from the string, straight for the hollow by
the left breast where the foreleg was flung wide. In it smote and vanished, barb, shaft
and feather, so fierce was its flight. With a shriek that deafened men, felled trees and
split stone, Smaug shot spouting into the air, turned over and crashed down from on
high in ruin.
Full on the town he fell. His last throes splintered it to sparks and gledes. The lake
roared in. A vast steam leaped up, white in the sudden dark under the moon. There was
a hiss, a gushing whirl, and then silence. And that was the end of Smaug and Esgaroth,
but not of Bard. The waxing moon rose higher and higher and the wind grew loud and cold.
It twisted the white fog into bending pillars and hurrying clouds and drove it off to the
West to scatter in tattered shreds over the marshes before Mirkwood. Then the many boats
could be seen dotted dark on the surface of the lake, and down the wind came the voices
of the people of Esgaroth lamenting their lost town and goods and ruined houses. But
they had really much to be thankful for, had they thought of it, though it could hardly
be expected that they should just then: three quarters of the people of the town had at
least escaped alive; their woods and fields and pastures and cattle and most of their
boats remained undamaged; and the dragon was dead. What that meant they had not yet realized.
They gathered in mournful crowds upon the western shores, shivering in the cold wind,
and their first complaints and anger were against the Master, who had left the town
so soon, while some were still willing to defend it. "He may have a good head for business-especially
his own business," some murmured, "but he is no good when anything serious happens!"
And they praised the courage of Bard and his last mighty shot. "If only he had not been
killed," they all said, "we would make him a king. Bard the Dragon-shooter of the line
of Girion! Alas that he is lost!"
And in the very midst of their talk, a tall figure stepped from the shadows. He was drenched
with water, his black hair hung wet over his face and shoulders, and a fierce light was
in his eyes.
"Bard is not lost!" he cried. "He dived from Esgaroth, when the enemy was slain. I am Bard,
of the line of Girion; I am the slayer of the dragon!" "King Bard! King Bard!" they
shouted; but the Master ground his chattering teeth.
"Girion was lord of Dale, not king of Esgaroth," he said. "In the Lake-town we have always
elected masters from among the old and wise, and have not endured the rule of mere fighting
men. Let 'King Bard' go back to his own kingdom-Dale is now freed by his valour, and nothing binders
his return. And any that wish can go with him, if they prefer the cold shores under
the shadow of the Mountain to the green shores of the lake. The wise will stay here and hope
to rebuild our town, and enjoy again in time its peace and riches." "We will have King
Bard!" the people near at hand shouted in reply. "We have had enough of the old men
and the money-counters!" And people further off took up the cry: "Up the Bowman, and down
with Moneybags," till the clamour echoed along the shore.
"I am the last man to undervalue Bard the Bowman," said the Master warily (for Bard
now stood close beside him). "He has tonight earned an eminent place in the roll of the
benefactors of our town; and he is worthy of many imperishable songs. But, why O People?"-and
here the Master rose to his feet and spoke very loud and clear - "why do I get all your
blame? For what fault am I to be deposed? Who aroused the dragon from his slumber, I
might ask? Who obtained of us rich gifts and ample help, and led us to believe that old
songs could come true? Who played on our soft hearts and our pleasant fancies? What sort
of gold have they sent down the river to reward us? Dragon-fire and ruin! From whom should
we claim the recompense of our damage, and aid for our widows and orphans?"
As you see, the Master had not got his position for nothing. The result of his words was that
for the moment the people quite forgot their idea of a new king, and turned their angry
thoughts towards Thorin and his company. Wild and bitter words were shouted from many sides;
and some of those who had before sung the old songs loudest, were now heard as loudly
crying that the dwarves had stirred the dragon up against them deliberately! "Fools!" said
Bard. "Why waste words and wrath on those unhappy creatures? Doubtless they perished
first in fire, before Smaug came to us." Then even as he was speaking, the thought came
into his heart of the fabled treasure of the Mountain lying without guard or owner, and
he fell suddenly silent. He thought of the Master's words, and of Dale rebuilt, and filled
with golden bells, if he could but find the men.
At length he spoke again: "This is no time for angry words. Master, or for considering
weighty plans of change. There is work to do. I serve you still-though after a while
I may think again of your words and go North with any that will follow me."
Then he strode off to help in the ordering of the camps and in the care of the sick and
the wounded. But the Master scowled at his back as he went, and remained sitting on the
ground. He thought much but said little, unless it was to call loudly for men to bring him
fire and food. Now everywhere Bard went he found talk running like fire among the people
concerning the vast treasure that was now unguarded. Men spoke of the recompense for
all their harm that they would soon get from it, and wealth over and to spare with which
to buy rich things from the South; and it cheered them greatly in their plight. That
was as well, for the night was bitter and miserable. Shelters could be contrived for
few (the Master had one) and there was little food (even the Master went short). Many took
ill of wet and cold and sorrow that night, and afterwards died, who had escaped uninjured
from the ruin of the town; and in the days that followed there was much sickness and
great hunger. Meanwhile Bard took the lead, and ordered things as he wished, though always
in the Master's name, and he had a hard task to govern the people and direct the preparations
for their protection and housing. Probably most of them would have perished in the winter
that now hurried after autumn, if help had not been to hand. But help came swiftly; for
Bard at once had speedy messengers sent up the river to the Forest to ask the aid of
the King of the Elves of the Wood, and these messengers had found a host already on the
move, although it was then only the third day after the fall of Smaug. The Elvenking
had received news from his own messengers and from the birds that loved his folk, and
already knew much of what had happened. Very great indeed was the commotion among all things
with wings that dwelt on the borders of the Desolation of the Dragon. The air was filled
with circling flocks, and their swift-flying messengers flew here and there across the
sky. Above the borders of the Forest there was whistling, crying and piping. Far over
Mirkwood tidings spread: "Smaug is dead!" Leaves rustled and startled ears were lifted.
Even before the Elvenking rode forth the news had passed west right to the pinewoods of
the Misty Mountains; Beorn had heard it in his wooden house, and the goblins were at
council in their caves.
"That will be the last we shall hear of Thorin Oakenshield, I fear," said the king. "He would
have done better to have remained my guest. It is an ill wind, all the same," he added,
"that blows no one any good." For he too had not forgotten the legend of the wealth of
Thror. So it was that Bard's messengers found him now marching with many spearmen and bowmen;
and crows were gathered thick, above him, for they thought that war was awakening again,
such as had not been in those parts for a long age. But the king, when he received the
prayers of Bard, had pity, for he was the lord of a good and kindly people; so turning
his march, which had at first been direct towards the Mountain, he hastened now down
the river to the Long Lake. He had not boats or rafts enough for his host, and they were
forced to go the slower way by foot; but great store of goods he sent ahead by water. Still
elves are light-footed, and though they were not in these days much used to the marches
and the treacherous lands between the Forest and the Lake, their going was swift. Only
five days after the death of the dragon they came upon the shores and looked on the ruins
of the town. Their welcome was good, as may be expected, and the men and their Master
were ready to make any bargain for the future in return for the Elvenking's aid.
Their plans were soon made. With the women and the children, the old and the unfit, the
Master remained behind; and with him were some men of crafts and many skilled elves;
and they busied themselves felling trees, and collecting the timber sent down from the
Forest. Then they set about raising many huts by the shore against the oncoming winter;
and also under the Master's direction they began the planning of a new town, designed
more fair and large even than before, but not in the same place. They removed northward
higher up the shore; for ever after they had a dread of the water where the dragon lay.
He would never again return to his golden bed, but was stretched cold as stone, twisted
upon the floor of the shallows. There for ages his huge bones could be seen in calm
weather amid the ruined piles of the old town. But few dared to cross the cursed spot, and
none dared to dive into the shivering water or recover the precious stones that fell from
his rotting carcass. But all the men of arms who were still able, and the most of the Elvenking's
array, got ready to march north to the Mountain. It was thus that in eleven days from the ruin
of the town the head of their host passed the rock-gates at the end of the lake and
came into the desolate lands.
Chapter 15 The Gathering of the Clouds
Now we will return to Bilbo and the dwarves. All night one of them had watched, but when
morning came they had not heard or seen any sign of danger. But ever more thickly the
birds were gathering. Their companies came flying from the South; and the crows that
still lived about the Mountain were wheeling and crying unceasingly above.
"Something strange is happening," said Thorin. "The time has gone for the autumn wanderings;
and these are birds that dwell always in the land; there are starlings and flocks of finches;
and far off there are many carrion birds as if a battle were afoot!"
Suddenly Bilbo pointed: "There is that old thrush again!" he cried. "He seems to have
escaped, when Smaug smashed the mountain-side, but I don't suppose the snails have!"
Sure enough the old thrush was there, and as Bilbo pointed, he flew towards them and
perched on a stone near by. Then he fluttered his wings and sang; then he cocked his head
on one side, as if to listen; and again he sang, and again he listened.
"I believe he is trying to tell us something," said Balin; "but I cannot follow the speech
of such birds, it is very quick and difficult. Can you make it out Baggins?"
"Not very well," said Bilbo (as a matter of fact, he could make nothing of it at all);
"but the old fellow seems.very excited."
"I only wish he was a raven!" said Balin.
"I thought you did not like them! You seemed very shy of them, when we came this way before."
"Those were crows! And nasty suspicious-looking creatures at that, and rude as well. You must
have heard the ugly names they were calling after us. But the ravens are different. There
used to be great friendship between them and the people of Thror; and they often brought
us secret news, and were rewarded with such bright things as they coveted to hide in their
dwellings. "They live many a year, and their memories are long, and they hand on their
wisdom to their children. I knew many among the ravens of the rocks when I was a dwarf
- lad. This very height was once named Ravenhill, because there was a wise and famous pair,
old Care and his wife, that lived here above the guard-chamber. But I don't suppose that
any of that ancient breed linger here now."
No sooner had he finished speaking than the old thrush gave a loud call, and immediately
flew away.
"We may not understand him, but that old bird understands us, I am sure," said Balin. "Keep
watch now, and see what happens!" Before long there was a fluttering of wings, and back
came the thrush; and with him came a most decrepit old bird. He was getting blind, he
could hardly fly, and the top of his head was bald. He was an aged raven of great size.
He alighted stiffly on the ground before them, slowly flapped his wings, and bobbed towards
"O Thorin son of Thrain, and Balin son of Fundin," he croaked (and Bilbo could understand
what he said, for he used ordinary language and not bird-speech). "I am 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 care-chiefly cram, of course, and they were very tired
of it; but cram is much better than nothing-and already the gate was blocked with a wall of
squared stones laid dry, but very thick and high across the opening. There were holes
in the wall through which they could see (or shoot) but no entrance. They climbed in or
out with ladders, and hauled stuff up with ropes. For the issuing of the stream they
had contrived a small low arch under the new wall; but near the entrance they had so altered
the narrow bed that a wide pool stretched from the mountain-wall to the head of the
fall over which the stream went towards Dale. Approach to the Gate was now only possible,
without swimming, along a narrow ledge of the cliff, to the right as one looked outwards
from the wall. The ponies they had brought only to the head of the steps above the old
bridge, and unloading them there had bidden them return to their masters and sent them
back riderless to the South. There came a night when suddenly there were many lights
as of fires and torches away south in Dale before them.
"They have come!" called Balin. "And their camp is very great. They must have come into
the valley under the cover of dusk along both banks of the river."
That night the dwarves slept little. The morning was still pale when they saw a company approaching.
From behind their wall they watched them come up to the valley's head and climb slowly up.
Before long they could see that both men of the lake armed as if for war and elvish bowmen
were among them. At length the foremost of these climbed the tumbled rocks and appeared
at the top of the falls; and very great was their surprise to see the pool before them
and the Gate blocked with a wall of new-hewn stone.
As they stood pointing and speaking to one another Thorin hailed them:
"Who are you," he called in a very loud voice, "that come as if in war to the gates of Thorin
son of Thrain, King under the Mountain, and what do you desire?"
But they answered nothing. Some turned swiftly back, and the others after gazing for a while
at the Gate and its defences soon followed them. That day the camp was moved and was
brought right between the arms of the Mountain. The rocks echoed then with voices and with
song, as they had not done for many a day. There was the sound, too, of elven-harps and
of sweet music; and as it echoed up towards them it seemed that the chill of the air was
warmed, and they caught faintly the fragrance of woodland flowers blossoming in spring.
Then Bilbo longed to escape from the dark fortress and to go down and join in the mirth
and feasting by the fires. Some of the younger dwarves were moved in their hearts, too, and
they muttered that they wished things had fallen out otherwise and that they might welcome
such folk as friends; but Thorin scowled.
Then the dwarves themselves brought forth harps and instruments regained from the hoard,
and made music to soften his mood; but their song was not as elvish song, and was much
like the song they had sung long before in Bilbo's little hobbit-hole.
"Under the Mountain dark and tall
The King has come unto his hall!
His foe is dead, the Worm of Dread,
And ever so his foes shall fall.
The sword is sharp, the spear is long,
The arrow swift, the Gate is strong;
The heart is bold that looks on gold;
The dwarves no more shall suffer wrong.
The dwarves of yore made mighty spells,
While hammers fell like ringing bells
In places deep, where dark things sleep,
In hollow halls beneath the fells.
On silver necklaces they strung
The light of stars, on crowns they hung
The dragon-fire, from twisted wire
The melody of harps they wrung.
The mountain throne once more is freed!
O! wandering folk, the summons heed!
Come haste! Come haste! across the waste!
The king of friend and kin has need.
Now call we over mountains cold,
'Come hack unto the caverns old'!
Here at the Gates the king awaits,
His hands are rich with gems and gold.
The king is come unto his hall
Under the Mountain dark and tall.
The Worm of Dread is slain and dead,
And ever so our foes shall fall!"
This song appeared to please Thorin, and he smiled again and grew merry; and he began
reckoning the distance to the Iron Hills and how long it would be before Dain could reach
the Lonely Mountain, if he had set out as soon as the message reached him. But Bilbo's
heart fell, both at the song and the talk: they sounded much too warlike. The next morning
early a company of spearmen was seen crossing the river, and marching up the valley. They
bore with them the green banner of the Elvenking and the blue banner of the Lake, and they
advanced until they stood right before the wall at the Gate. Again Thorin hailed them
in a loud voice: "Who are you that come armed for war to the gates of Thorin son of Thrain,
King under the Mountain?" This time he was answered.
A tall man stood forward, dark of hair and grim of face, and he cried:
"Hail Thorin! Why do you fence yourself like a robber in his hold? We are not yet foes,
and we rejoice that you are alive beyond our hope. We came expecting to find none living
here; yet now that we are met there is matter for a parley and a council."
"Who are you, and of what would you parley?"
"I am Bard, and by my hand was the dragon slain and your treasure delivered. Is that
not a matter that concerns you? Moreover I am by right descent the heir of Girion of
Dale, and in your hoard is mingled much of the wealth of his halls and town, which of
old Smaug stole. Is not that a matter of which we may speak? Further in his last battle Smaug
destroyed the dwellings of the men of Esgaroth, and I am yet the servant of their Master.
I would speak for him and ask whether you have no thought for the sorrow and misery
of his people. They aided you in your distress, and in recompense you have thus far brought
ruin only, though doubtless undesigned."
Now these were fair words and true, if proudly and grimly spoken; and Bilbo thought that
Thorin would at once admit what justice was in them. He did not, of course, expect that
any one would remember that it was he who discovered all by himself the dragon's weak
spot; and that was just as well, for no one ever did. But also he did not reckon with
the power that gold has upon which a dragon has long brooded, nor with dwarvish hearts.
Long hours in the past days Thorin had spent in the treasury, and the *** 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 *** little creature
that is said to be their servant."
"Servant, indeed!" snorted Bilbo; and in the middle of his snort he sneezed loudly, and
the elves immediately gathered towards the sound. "Let's have a light!" he said. "I am
here, if you want me!" and he slipped off his ring, and popped from behind a rock.
They seized him quickly, in spite of their surprise. "Who are you? Are you the dwarves'
hobbit? What are you doing? How did you get so far past our sentinels?" they asked one
after another.
"I am Mr. Bilbo Baggins," he answered, "companion of Thorin, if you want to know. I know your
king well by sight, though perhaps he doesn't know me to look at. But Bard will remember
me, and it is Bard I particularly want to see."
"Indeed!" said they, "and what may be your business?" "Whatever it is, it's my own, my
good elves. But if you wish ever to get back to your own woods from this cold cheerless
place," he answered shivering, "you will take me along quiet to a fire, where I can dry-and
then you will let me speak to your chiefs as quick as may be. I have only an hour or
two to spare."
That is how it came about that some two hours after his escape from the Gate, Bilbo was
sitting beside a warm fire in front of a large tent, and there sat too, gazing curiously
at him, both the Elvenking and Bard. A hobbit in elvish armour, partly wrapped in an old
blanket, was something new to them. "Really you know," Bilbo was saying in his best business
manner, "things are impossible. Personally I am tired of the whole affair. I wish I was
back in the West in my own home, where folk are more reasonable. But I have an interest
in this matter-one fourteenth share, to be precise, according to a letter, which fortunately
I believe I have kept." He drew from a pocket in his old jacket (which he still wore over
his mail), crumpled and much folded, Thorin's letter that had been put under the clock on
his mantelpiece in May! "A share in the profits, mind you," he went on. "I am aware of that.
Personally I am only too ready to consider all your claims carefully, and deduct what
is right from the total before putting in my own claim. However you don't know Thorin
Oakenshield as well as I do now. I assure you, he is quite ready to sit on a heap of
gold and starve, as long as you sit here." "Well, let him!" said Bard. "Such a fool deserves
to starve." "Quite so," said Bilbo. "I see your point of view. At the same time winter
is coming on fast. Before long you will be having snow and what not, and supplies will
be difficult - even for elves I imagine. Also there will be other difficulties. You have
not heard of Dain and the dwarves of the Iron Hills?"
"We have, a long time ago; but what has he got to do with us?" asked the king.
"I thought as much. I see I have some information you have not got. Dain, I may tell you, is
now less than two days' march off, and has at least five hundred grim dwarves with him
- a good many of them have had experience in the dreadful dwarf and goblin wars, of
which you have no doubt heard. When they arrive there may be serious trouble."
"Why do you tell us this? Are you betraying your friends, or are you threatening us?"
asked Bard grimly.
"My dear Bard!" squeaked Bilbo. "Don't be so hasty! I never met such suspicious folk!
I am merely trying to avoid trouble for all concerned. Now I will make you an offer!!"
"Let us hear it!" they said.
"You may see it!" said he. "It is this!" and he drew forth the Arkenstone, and threw away
the wrapping.
The Elvenking himself, whose eyes were used to things of wonder and beauty, stood up in
amazement. Even Bard gazed marvelling at it in silence. It was as if a globe had been
filled with moonlight and hung before them in a net woven of the glint of frosty stars.
"This is the Arkenstone of Thrain," said Bilbo, "the Heart of the Mountain; and it is also
the heart of Thorin. He values it above a river of gold. I give it to you. It will aid
you in your bargaining." Then Bilbo, not without a shudder, not without a glance of longing,
handed the marvellous stone to Bard, and he held it in his hand, as though dazed. "But
how is it yours to give?" he asked at last with an effort. "O well!" said the hobbit
uncomfortably. "It isn't exactly; but, well, I am willing to let it stand against all my
claim, don't you know. I may be a burglar-or so they say: personally I never really felt
like one-but I am an honest one, I hope, more or less. Anyway I am going back now, and the
dwarves can do what they like to me. I hope you will find it useful." The Elvenking looked
at Bilbo with a new wonder.
"Bilbo Baggins!" he said. "You are more worthy to wear the armour of elf-princes than many
that have looked more comely in it. But I wonder if Thorin Oakenshield will see it so.
I have more knowledge of dwarves in general than you have perhaps. I advise you to remain
with us, and here you shall be honoured and thrice welcome."
"Thank you very much I am sure," said Bilbo with a bow. "But I don't think I ought to
leave my friends like this, after all we have gone through together. And I promised to wake
old Bombur at midnight, too! Really I must be going, and quickly."
Nothing they could say would stop him; so an escort was provided for him, and as he
went both the king and Bard saluted him with honour. As they passed through the camp an
old man wrapped in a dark cloak, rose from a tent door where he was sitting and came
towards them.
"Well done! Mr. Baggins!" he said, clapping Bilbo on the back. "There is always more about
you than anyone expects!" It was Gandalf. For the first time for many a day Bilbo was
really delighted. But there was no time for all the questions that he immediately wished
to ask. "All in good time!" said Gandalf. "Things are drawing towards the end now, unless
I am mistaken. There is an unpleasant time just in front of you; but keep your heart
up! You may come through all right. There is news brewing that even the ravens have
not heard. Good night!"
Puzzled but cheered. Bilbo hurried on. He was guided to a safe ford and set across dry,
and then he said farewell to the elves and climbed carefully back towards the Gate. Great
weariness began to come over him; but it was well before midnight when he clambered up
the rope again - it was still where he had left it. He untied it and hid it, and then
he sat down on the wall and wondered anxiously what would happen next.
At midnight he woke up Bombur; and then in turn rolled himself up in his corner, without
listening to old dwarfs thanks (which he felt he had hardly earned). He was soon fast asleep
forgetting all his worries till the morning. As matter of fact he was dreaming of eggs
and bacon.
Chapter 17 The Clouds Burst
Next day the trumpets rang early in the camp. Soon a single runner was seen hurrying along
the narrow path. At a distance he stood and hailed them, asking whether Thorin would now
listen to another embassy, since new tidings had come to hand, and matters were changed.
"That will be Dain!" said Thorin when he heard. "They will have got wind of his coming. I
thought that would alter their mood! Bid them come few in number and weaponless, and I will
hear," he called to the messenger. About midday the banners of the Forest and the Lake were
seen to be borne forth again. A company of twenty was approaching. At the beginning of
the narrow way they laid aside sword and spear, and came on towards the Gate. Wondering, the
dwarves saw that among them were both Bard and the Elvenking, before whom an old man
wrapped in cloak and hood bore a strong casket of iron-bound wood.
"Hail Thorin!" said Bard. "Are you still of the same mind?" "My mind does not change with
the rising and setting of a few suns," answered Thorin. "Did you come to ask me idle questions?
Still the elf-host has not departed as I bade! Till then you come in vain to bargain with
me." "Is there then nothing for which you would yield any of your gold?"
"Nothing that you or your friends have to offer."
"What of the Arkenstone of Thrain?" said he, and at the same moment the old man opened
the casket and held aloft the jewel. The light leapt from his hand, bright and white in the
morning.
Then Thorin was stricken dumb with amazement and confusion. No one spoke for a long while.
Thorin at length broke the silence, and his voice was thick with wrath. "That stone was
my father's, and is mine," he said. "Why should I purchase my own?" But wonder overcame him
and he added: "But how came you by the heirloom of my house-if there is need to ask such a
question of thieves?" "We are not thieves," Bard answered. "Your own we will give back
in return for our own."
'How came you by it?" shouted Thorin in gathering rage. "I gave it them!" squeaked Bilbo, who
was peeping over the wall, by now, in a dreadful fright.
"You! You!" cried Thorin, turning upon him and grasping him with both hands. "You miserable
hobbit! You undersized-burglar!" he shouted at a loss for words, and he shook poor Bilbo
like a rabbit.
"By the beard of Durin! I wish I had Gandalf here! Curse him for his choice of you! May
his beard wither! As for you I will throw you to the rocks!" he cried and lifted Bilbo
in his arms.
"Stay! Your wish is granted!" said a voice. The old man with the casket threw aside his
hood and cloak. "Here is Gandalf! And none too soon it seems. If you don't like my Burglar,
please don't damage him. Put him down, and listen first to what he has to say!"
"You all seem in league!" said Thorin dropping Bilbo on the top of the wall. "Never again
will I have dealings with any wizard or his friends. What have you to say, you descendant
of rats?"
"Dear me! Dear me!" said Bilbo. "I am sure this is all very uncomfortable. You may remember
saying that I might choose my own fourteenth share? Perhaps I took it too literally -1
have been told that dwarves are sometimes politer in word than in deed. The time was,
all the same, when you seemed to think that I had been of some service. Descendant of
rats, indeed! Is this ail the service of you and your family that I was promised. Thorin?
Take it that I have disposed of my share as I wished, and let it go at that!" "I will,"
said Thorin grimly. "And I will let you go at that-and may we never meet again!" Then
he turned and spoke over the wall. "I am betrayed," he said. "It was rightly guessed that I could
not forbear to redeem the Arkenstone, the treasure of my house. For it I will give one
fourteenth share of the hoard in silver and gold, setting aside the gems; but that shall
be accounted the promised share of this traitor, and with that reward he shall depart, and
you can divide it as you will. He will get little enough, I doubt not. Take him, if you
wish him to live; and no friendship of mine goes with him.
"Get down now to your friends!" he said to Bilbo, "or I will throw you down."
"What about the gold and silver?" asked Bilbo.
"That shall follow after, as can be arranged," said he.
"Get down!"
"Until then we keep the stone," cried Bard.
"You are not making a very splendid figure as King under the Mountain," said Gandalf.
"But things may change yet."
"They may indeed," said Thorin. And already, so strong was the bewilderment of the treasure
upon him, he was pondering whether by the help of Dain he might not recapture the Arkenstone
and withhold the share of the reward.
And so Bilbo was swung down from the wall, and departed with nothing for all his trouble,
except the armour which Thorin had given him already. More than one of the dwarves 'in
their hearts felt shame and pity at his going. "Farewell!" he cried to them. "We may meet
again as friends." "Be off!" called Thorin. "You have mail upon you, which was made by
my folk, and is too good for you. It cannot be pierced.by arrows; but if you do not hasten,
I will sting your miserable feet. So be swift!" "Not so hasty!" said Bard. "We will give you
until tomorrow. At noon we will return, and see if you have brought from the hoard the
portion that is to be set against the stone. If that is done without deceit, then we will
depart, and the elf-host will go back to the Forest. In the meanwhile farewell!" With that
they went back to the camp; but Thorin sent messengers by 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
*** the heels of Dain. Not even the ravens knew of their coming until they came out in
the broken lands which divided the Lonely Mountain from the hills behind. How much Gandalf
knew cannot be said, but it is plain that he had not expected this sudden assault.
This is the plan that he made in council with the Elvenking and with Bard; and with Dain,
for the dwarf-lord now joined them: the Goblins were the foes of all, and at their coming
all other quarrels were forgotten. Their only hope was to lure the goblins into the valley
between the arms of the Mountain; and themselves to man the great spurs that struck south and
east. Yet this would be perilous, if the goblins were in sufficient numbers to overrun the
Mountain itself, and so attack them also from behind and above; but there was no time for
make any other plan, or to summon any help. Soon the thunder passed, rolling away to the
South-East; but the bat-cloud came, flying lower, over the shoulder of the Mountain,
and whirled above them shutting out the light and filling them with dread. "To the Mountain!"
called Bard. "To the Mountain! Let us take our places while there is yet time!"
On the Southern spur, in its lower slopes and in the rocks at its feet, the Elves were
set; on the Eastern spur were men and dwarves. But Bard and some of the nimblest of men and
elves climbed to the height of the Eastern shoulder to gain a view to the North. Soon
they could see the lands before the Mountain's feet black with a hurrying multitude. Ere
long the vanguard swirled round the spur's end and came rushing into Dale. These were
the swiftest wolf-riders, and already their cries and howls rent the air afar. A few brave
men were strung before them to make a feint of resistance, and many there fell before
the rest drew back and fled to either side. As Gandalf had hoped, the goblin army had
gathered behind the resisted vanguard, and poured now in rage into the valley, driving
wildly up between the arms of the Mountain, seeking for the foe. Their banners were countless,
black and red, and they came on like a tide in fury and disorder.
It was a terrible battle. The most dreadful of all Bilbo's experiences, and the one which
at the time he hated most - which is to say it was the one he was most proud of, and most
fond of recalling long afterwards, although he was quite unimportant in it. Actually I
must say he put on his ring early in the business, and vanished from sight, if not from all danger.
A magic ring of that sort is not a complete protection in a goblin charge, nor does it
stop flying arrows and wild spears; but it does help in getting out of the way, and it
prevents your head from being specially chosen for a sweeping stroke by a goblin swordsman.
The elves were the first to charge. Their hatred for the goblins is cold and bitter.
Their spears and swords shone in the gloom with a gleam of chill flame, so deadly was
the wrath of the hands that held them. As soon as the host of their enemies was dense
in the valley, they sent against it a shower of arrows, and each flickered as it fled as
if with stinging fire. Behind the arrows a thousand of their spearmen leapt down and
charged. The yells were deafening. The rocks were stained black with goblin blood. Just
as the goblins were recovering from the onslaught and the elf-charge was halted, there rose
from across the valley a deep-throated roar. With cries of "Moria!" and "Dain, Dain!" the
dwarves of the Iron Hills plunged in, wielding their mattocks, upon the other side; and beside
them came the men of the Lake with long swords. Panic came upon the Goblins; and even as they
turned to meet this new attack, the elves charged again with renewed numbers. Already
many of the goblins were flying back down the river to escape from the trap: and many
of their own wolves were turning upon them and rending the dead and the wounded. Victory
seemed at hand, when a cry rang out on the heights above. Goblins had scaled the Mountain
from the other side and already many were on the slopes above the Gate, and others were
streaming down recklessly, heedless of those that fell screaming from cliff and precipice,
to attack the spurs from above. Each of these could be reached by paths that ran down from
the main mass of the Mountain in the centre; and the defenders had too few to bar the way
for long. Victory now vanished from hope. They had only stemmed the first onslaught
of the black tide.
Day drew on. The goblins gathered again in the valley. There a host of
Wargs came ravening and with them came the bodyguard of Bolg, goblins of huge size with
scimitars of steel. Soon actual darkness was coming into a stormy sky; while still the
great bats swirled about the heads and ears of elves and men, or fastened vampire-like
on the stricken. Now Bard was fighting to defend the Eastern spur, and yet giving slowly
back; and the elf-lords were at bay about their king upon the southern arm, near to
the watch-post on Ravenhill. Suddenly there was a great shout, and from the Gate came
a trumpet call. They had forgotten Thorin! Part of the wall, moved by levers, fell outward
with a crash into the pool. Out leapt the King under the Mountain, and his companions
followed him. Hood and cloak were gone; they were in shining armour, and red light leapt
from their eyes. In the gloom the great dwarf gleamed like gold in a dying fire.
Rocks were buried down from on high by the goblins above; but they held on. leapt down
to the falls' foot, and rushed forward to battle. Wolf and rider fell or fled before
them. Thorin wielded his axe with mighty strokes, and nothing seemed to harm him.
"To me! To me! Elves and Men! To me! O my kinsfolk!" he cried, and his voice shook like
a horn in the valley.
Down, heedless of order, rushed all the dwarves of Dain to his help. Down too came many of
the Lake-men, for Bard could not restrain them; and out upon the other side came many
of the spearmen of the elves. Once again the goblins were stricken in the valley; and they
were piled in heaps till Dale was dark and hideous with their corpses. The Wargs were
scattered and Thorin drove right against the bodyguards of Bolg. But he could not pierce
their ranks. Already behind him among the goblin dead lay many men and many dwarves,
and many a fair elf that should have lived yet long ages merrily in the wood. And as
the valley widened his onset grew ever slower. His numbers were too few. His flanks were
unguarded. Soon the attackers were attacked, and they were forced into a great ring, facing
every way, hemmed all about with goblins and wolves returning to the assault. The bodyguard
of Bolg came howling against them, and drove in upon their ranks like waves upon cliffs
of sand. Their friends could not help them, for the assault from the Mountain was renewed
with redoubled force, and upon either side men and elves were being slowly beaten down.
On all this Bilbo looked with misery. He had taken his stand on Ravenhill among the Elves-partly
because there was more chance of escape from that point, and partly (with the more Tookish
part of his mind) because if he was going to be in a last desperate stand, he preferred
on the whole to defend the Elvenking. Gandalf, too, I may say, was there, sitting on the
ground as if in deep thought, preparing, I suppose, some last blast of magic before the
end. That did not seem far off. "It will not be long now," thought Bilbo, "before the goblins
win the Gate, and we are all slaughtered or driven down and captured. Really it is enough
to make one weep, after all one has gone through. I would rather old Smaug had been left with
all the wretched treasure, than that these vile creatures should get it, and poor old
Bombur, and Balin and Fili and Kili and all the rest come to a bad end; and Bard too,
and the Lake-men and the merry elves. Misery me! I have heard songs of many battles, and
I have always understood that defeat may be glorious. It seems very uncomfortable, not
to say distressing. I wish I was well out of it." The clouds were torn by the wind,
and a red sunset slashed the West.
Seeing the sudden gleam in the gloom Bilbo looked round. He gave a great cry:
he had seen a sight that made his heart leap, dark shapes small yet majestic against the
distant glow.
"The Eagles! The Eagles!" he shouted. "The Eagles are coming!" Bilbo's eyes were seldom
wrong. The eagles were coming down the wind, line after line, in such a host as must have
gathered from all the eyries of the North.
"The Eagles! the Eagles!" Bilbo cried, dancing and waving his arms. If the elves could not
see him they could hear him. Soon they too took up the cry, and it echoed across the
valley. Many wondering eyes looked up, though as yet nothing could be seen except from the
southern shoulders of the Mountain.
"The Eagles!" cried Bilbo once more, but at that moment a stone hurtling from above smote
heavily on his helm, and he fell with a crash and knew no more.
Chapter 18 The Return Journey
When Bilbo came to himself, he was literally by himself. He was lying on the flat stones
of Ravenhill, and no one was near. A cloudless day, but cold, was broad above him. He was
shaking, and as chilled as stone, but his head burned with fire.
"Now I wonder what has happened?" he said to himself. "At any rate I am not yet one
of the fallen heroes; but I suppose there is still time enough for that!"
He sat up painfully. Looking into the valley he could see no living goblins. After a while
as his head cleared a little, he thought he could see elves moving in the rocks below.
He rubbed his eyes. Surely there was a camp still in the plain some distance off; and
there was a coming and going about the Gate? Dwarves seemed to be busy removing the wall.
But all was deadly still. There was no call and no echo of a song. Sorrow seemed to be
in the air. "Victory after all, I suppose!" he said, feeling his aching head. "Well, it
seems a very gloomy business."
Suddenly he was aware of a man climbing up and coming towards him.
"Hullo there!" he called with a shaky voice. "Hullo there! What news?" "What voice is it
that speaks among the stones?" said the man halting and peering about him not far from
where Bilbo sat.
Then Bilbo remembered his ring! "Well I'm blessed!" said he. "This invisibility has
its drawbacks after all. Otherwise I suppose I might have spent a warm and comfortable
night in bed!"
"It's me, Bilbo Baggins, companion of Thorin!" he cried, hurriedly taking off the ring.
"It is well that I have found you!" said the man striding forward. "You are needed and
we have looked for you long. You would have been numbered among the dead, who are many,
if Gandalf the wizard had not said that your voice was last heard in this place. I have
been sent to look here for the last time. Are you much hurt?"
"A nasty knock on the head, I think," said Bilbo. "But I have a helm and a hard skull.
All the same I feel sick and my legs are like straws." "I will carry you down to the camp
in the valley," said the man, and picked him lightly up.
The man was swift and sure-footed. It was not long before Bilbo was set down before
a tent in Dale; and there stood Gandalf, with his arm in a sling. Even the wizard had not
escaped without a wound; and there were few unharmed in all the host.
When Gandalf saw Bilbo, he was delighted. "Baggins!" he exclaimed. "Well I never! Alive
after all - 1 am glad! I began to wonder if even your luck would see you through! A terrible
business, and it nearly was disastrous. But other news can wait. Come!" he said more gravely.
"You are called for;" and leading the hobbit he took him within the tent.
"Hail! Thorin," he said as he entered. "I have brought him." There indeed lay Thorin
Oakenshield, wounded with many wounds, and his rent armour and notched axe were cast
upon the floor. He looked up as Bilbo came beside him.
"Farewell, good thief," he said. "I go now to the halls of waiting to sit beside my fathers,
until the world is renewed. Since I leave now all gold and silver, and go where it is
of little worth, I wish to part in friendship from you, and I would take back my words and
deeds at the Gate."
Bilbo knelt on one knee filled with sorrow. "Farewell, King under the
Mountain!" he said. "This is a bitter adventure, if it must end so; and not a mountain of gold
can amend it. Yet I am glad that I have shared in your perils - that has been more than any
Baggins deserves."
"No!" said Thorin. "There is more in you of good than you know, child of the kindly West.
Some courage and some wisdom, blended in measure. If more of us valued food and cheer and song
above hoarded gold, it would be a merrier world. But sad or merry, I must leave it now.
Farewell!" Then Bilbo turned away, and he went by himself, and sat alone wrapped in
a blanket, and, whether you believe it or not, he wept until his eyes were red and his
voice was hoarse. He was a kindly little soul. Indeed it was long before he had the heart
to make a joke again. "A mercy it is," he said at last to himself, "that I woke up when
I did. I wish Thorin were living, but I am glad that we parted in kindness. You are a
fool, Bilbo Baggins, and you made a great mess of that business with the stone; and
there was a battle, in spite of all your efforts to buy peace and quiet, but I suppose you
can hardly be blamed for that."
All that had happened after he was stunned, Bilbo learned later; but it gave him more
sorrow than joy, and he was now weary of his adventure. He was aching in his bones for
the homeward journey. That, however, was a little delayed, so in the meantime I will
tell something of events. The Eagles had long had suspicion of the goblins' mustering; from
their watchfulness the movements in the mountains could not be altogether hid. So they too had
gathered in great numbers, under the great Eagle of the Misty Mountains; and at length
smelling battle from afar they had come speeding down the gale in the nick of time. They it
was who dislodged the goblins from the mountain-slopes, casting them over precipices, or driving them
down shrieking and bewildered among their foes. It was not long before they had freed
the Lonely Mountain, and elves and men on either side of the valley could come at last
to the help of the battle below.
But even with the Eagles they were still outnumbered. In that last hour Beorn himself had appeared
- no one knew how or from where. He came alone, and in bear's shape; and he seemed to have
grown almost to giant-size in his wrath. The roar of his voice was like drums and guns;
and he tossed wolves and goblins from his path like straws and feathers. He fell upon
their rear, and broke like a clap of thunder through the ring. The dwarves were making
a stand still about their lords upon a low rounded hill. Then Beorn stooped and lifted
Thorin, who had fallen pierced with spears, and bore him out of the fray. Swiftly he returned
and his wrath was redoubled, so that nothing could withstand him, and no weapon seemed
to bite upon him. He scattered the bodyguard, and pulled down Bolg himself and crushed him.
Then dismay fell on the Goblins and they fled in all directions. But weariness left their
enemies with the coming of new hope, and they pursued them closely, and prevented most of
them from escaping where they could. They drove many of them into the Running River,
and such as fled south or west they hunted into the marshes about the Forest River; and
there the greater part of the last fugitives perished, while those that came hardly to
the Wood-elves' realm were there slain, or drawn in to die in the trackless dark of Mirkwood.
Songs have said that three parts of the goblin warriors of the North perished on that day,
and the mountains had peace for many a year.
Victory had been assured before the fall of night, but the pursuit was still on foot,
when Bilbo returned to the camp; and not many were in the valley save the more grievously
wounded.
"Where are the Eagles?" he asked Gandalf that evening, as he lay wrapped in many warm blankets.
"Some are in the hunt," said the wizard, "but most have gone back to their eyries. They
would not stay here, and departed with the first light of morning. Dain has crowned their
chief with gold, and sworn friendship with them for ever."
"I am sorry. I mean, I should have liked to see them again," said Bilbo sleepily; "perhaps
I shall see them on the way home. I suppose I shall be going home soon?"
"As soon as you like," said the wizard.
Actually it was some days before Bilbo really set out. They buried Thorin deep beneath the
Mountain, and Bard laid the Arkenstone upon his breast.
"There let it lie till the Mountain falls!" he said. "May it bring good fortune to all
his folk that dwell here after!" Upon his tomb the Elvenking then laid Orcrist, the
elvish sword that had been taken from Thorin in captivity. It is said in songs that it
gleamed ever in the dark if foes approached, and the fortress of the dwarves could not
be taken by surprise. There now Dain son of Nain took up his abode, and he became King
under the Mountain, and in time many other dwarves gathered to his throne in the ancient
halls. Of the twelve companions of Thorin, ten remained. Fili and Kili had fallen defending
him with shield and body, for he was their mother's elder brother. The others remained
with Dain; for Dain dealt his treasure well. There was, of course, no longer any question
of dividing the hoard in such shares as had been planned, to Balin and Dwalin, and Dori
and Nori and Ori, and Oin and Gloin, and Bifur and Bofur and Bombur-or to Bilbo. Yet a fourteenth
share of all the silver and gold, wrought and unwrought, was given up to Bard; for Dain
said: "We will honour the agreement of the dead, and he has now the Arkenstone in his
keeping."
Even a fourteenth share was wealth exceedingly great, greater than that of many mortal kings.
From that treasure Bard sent much gold to the Master of Lake-town; and he rewarded his
followers and friends freely. To the Elvenking he gave the emeralds of Girion, such jewels
as he most loved, which Dain had restored to him. To Bilbo he said: "This treasure is
as much yours as it is mine; though old agreements cannot stand, since so many have a claim in
its winning and defence. Yet even though you were willing to lay aside all your claim,
I should wish that the words of Thorin, of which he repented, should not prove true:
that we should give you little. I would reward you most richly of all."
"Very kind of you," said Bilbo. "But really it is a relief to me. How on earth should
I have got all that treasure home without war and *** 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 inhis 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 '***'-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.